As of 1/24/98
TURN 4: Amidst the Ruins
Hroknar looked at the Alasion - an almost humorous sight, assaulted from too many sides by the prickly bushes; the man could free himself, given time, but the effort would have caused a great deal of commotion and required the painful separation of more than a few patches of skin.
"Tseld demands that I render aid to those in need," Hroknar announced. "My mentor taught me that I shouldn't rush in stupidly to a call for help, since it may very well be a trap. Life has taught me to listen to both Tseld and Trona-h'rar, and I have good reason to be especially jumpy this morning." He relaxed a little, dropping the head of his axe to a less threatening position.
The Dervatear then turned and waved at the others on the opposite bank, hopefully letting them know that all was well. Turning back to Ethan, he leaned his axe against a tree and studied the bush that seemed to entrap the unlucky bowman. Reaching down, Hroknar drew forth one of his throwing axes. "If you will hold still for a moment, I'll have you free of that infernal bush." He stepped forward and spoke quietly, reverently - apparently to his axe, "I know it's not your place to cut wood, but to cleave flesh. However, it is just this one time. Next time, I shall use your mate." He then reached out and grasped the branches that were holding Ethan and, taking care not to strike the bowman, hacked him loose one branch at a time.
Once he had finished, Hroknar said, "Why don't you come back down and meet my companions? We can wait for more formal introductions till then, but it won't hurt to tell you my name." He bowed deeply, as if the bowman was of the nobility. "Hroknar of the Second Warren, at your service."
Ethan extended his hand toward the Dervatear. "The Second Warren, eh? Well, you look too honest to be a trader or merchant, so I'll bet you're a miner." He glanced around the landscape, nodding his head slowly. "Good place for you, too." Ethan turned back to Hroknar. "At any rate, my thanks to you, Hroknar of the Second Warren. As they say, I owe you one. Now, before your companions begin to worry for your safety, why don't I go introduce myself. Hroknar, my friend, you lead the way."
Hroknar smiled broadly at Ethan's words. "Ahhh, so you know something of my people? Yes, I was once a miner, but when my father died in a cave-in, my mother begged me to change careers. So I became an Akmatar Initiate. She wasn't exactly overjoyed with that choice either, but I seem to be doing all right with it." Turning, he started back down to the stream. He paused at the edge of the stream, turning to Ethan. "The current is a little swift, but if one such as I can handle it, surely a person as stretched out as you are can manage the crossing."
Ethan laughed, following the Dervatear across the stream. The water flow was not all that fast, nor was it apparently all that deep, given that his "rescuer" had traversed it with little trouble minutes before. When they had reached the other side, they scrambled up the incline. Ethan bowed his head at Hroknar's three companions as he reached level ground. "Greetings to you all," he said in the King's Tongue. "I am Ethan de Nomestra, in debt with friend Hroknar here, and at your service."
Once again, Hroknar rummaged in his pack and took out his wineskin. "Now it is time for a more formal introduction." He then uncorked it, brought it to his lips, and drank from it. Lowering the flask, he said, "In the name of Tseld, the Forger of the Gods, I, Hroknar of the Second Warren, greet you and wish you a trouble free road." He then handed the flask to Ethan.
Hesitantly at first, Ethan took the wineskin from Hroknar, pausing to smile down at the gruff Dervatear, and drank deeply. "Excellent vintage," Ethan said, smacking his lips as he handed the wineskin back to Hroknar. "I only wish I had more than a skin full of water to offer you. Alas, my wine ran dry several days back. I can, however, call upon Kallissa, Goddess of the Forests and All Who Dwell, and ask for a blessing for you and your companions. May life's journey be filled with happiness, security, and profit." With that, Ethan extended his hand toward Hroknar for a second time. "And now, I should think it a good time for a round of introductions."
The half-elf bard smiled and tipped his head at Ethan in a gesture of introduction and said, in his melodic, alto voice, "Good day, Ethan de Nomestra, I am Ysoltre Illmak'r, minstrel and traveler of the allied realms of Langington." Never knowing when to keep his mouth shut and forever loving to hear his own voice, Ysoltre continued: "Let me present my associates, Aulkarissaleigh N'Qol'Teriss, scholar in both the art and teachings of Celestial Theavia; Rogmund Malatreides, archer and wayfarer; and I think you have already met Hroknar.
Hroknar took the wineskin from the newcomer and then passed it on to Karissa, saying as he did so, "The drinking from a common source is a formal greeting for my people. It is to show that the wine was not poisoned and that I hold no ill feelings toward you. It is much like the human custom of shaking hands. It is to show that the wine is not poisoned and that I hold no ill feelings toward you. The human custom is to show that the hand does not contain a weapon. It is also a custom that I do not often get the chance to practice." He then extended his hand toward Ethan.
Ethan grasped Hroknar's hand again, tipping his head slightly. He extended his hand to Rogmund Malatreides and bowed toward Aulkarissaleigh N'Qol'Teriss. Ethan then turned to the one who called himself Ysoltre Illmak'r and said, "A minstrel from Langington, eh? I, myself, am from that great kingdom, although my profession is about as far from that of a minstrel as one could get. Though if memory serves, I once had to capture a minstrel. Wicked sort of fellow, if I'm not mistaken; vile in mind and heart, with the nasty habit of killing and robbing those he charmed with his music. In time, though, I caught up with him."
Ethan nodded his head slowly, remembering past events and, as he did so, noticing what appeared to be a degree of wariness on the faces of the four strangers before him. "Oh, forgive me, friends. I seem to have left out what it is I call as my profession. If you know of the prison Orr-Natel, found on a small island of the same name, within the confines of Lake Gideon, then you might have heard of the Collectors. We're a small band of, how you might say, bounty hunters, although we don't collect the bounty on the heads of those we capture. I like to think of myself as a talented jailer who enjoys roaming the confines of the Kingdom of Langington." Ethan slipped his fingers through his short, brown hair before slipping his bow and pack off. Although not homely in appearance, Ethan was far from being what many would call attractive. He did, however, carry a warmth and ease within his blue-gray eyes.
"I'm currently on vacation away from Orr-Natel," Ethan said as he undid the top strap of his studded leather armor. He sighed and smiled, twisting his neck first to the left, and then the right. As he slipped his hands out of a pair of thin leather gloves, tucking the gloves under his belt, Ethan continued with his tale: "I was en route to a small grouping of Pseithen villages I know of located at the base of the Perrin Towers when I came upon orc poachers." Ethan seemed to snarl slightly when he said "orc poachers," his face flushing slightly. "They had been hunting unicorns in the southeastern regions of the Tempec Forest. When I had caught up with them, they had already slaughtered one of the magical beasts and were in the process of removing its horn. They spotted me and retreated into the foothills of the Innocus."
Ethan knelt down and reached into his pack, removing a small strip of jerked beef. He took a bite of the dried meat and continued: "I followed the two orcs for a bit until I came upon their camp. There, about a dozen more orcs were awaiting the arrival of their companions. After that, the chase was on. I ran for days, picking off a couple of the orc poachers while heading deeper and deeper into the foothills, and, eventually, the Innocus Mountains themselves. About four days back, I came upon an orc village and would have been captured if it weren't for the fact that orcs can't scale sheer rock surfaces as quickly as I. Several days later, I came upon this stream and you four. The rest, as they say, is history."
Ethan reached back into his pack and pulled out four more strips of the jerked beef, offering the four strangers before him each a piece of the dried meat. "Now, if I may coin a phrase, what's a nice-looking group of wanderers such as yourselves doing in a place like this?"
The figure in the billowing hooded green cloak seemed to blanch momentarily at Ethan's offer. One hand rose - the hand and arm thus shown obviously not those of a man - in a motion of polite refusal. The wineskin held disappeared for a moment within the folds of the hood, tipping upward in what was obviously a quick sip. She then passed Hroknar's wineskin on to the armored archer before turning her attention toward the ruined hamlet.
Rogmund took the offered wineskin and stepped forward, also accepting Ethan's offered victual. "At the moment, we're shopping. Hroknar thinks that Ysoltre needs new attire. I must concur, since our resident bard's old garb seems to be a bit travel-worn these days." The archer took a deep drink of wine, then offered it up to whomever wished it.
Ysoltre smiled at the archer's comment and said, "To say the least, Rogmund." The bard grasped the wineskin, telling himself that is was proper and just to respect the traditions of Hroknar's race, and took a conservative drink before returning the skin to its owner.
Unlike Rogmund, the half-elf minstrel declined the jerky. "My belly is still full of Karissa's wonderful breakfast." Sensing the cleric's desire to continue with her mission, the bard added, "I would love to exchange tales with you, Ethan; I am a devote enthusiast for a good story, and, by the Celestial Powers, I have a few of my own to tell, but I am afraid we are in a bit of a rush." The bard smiled and continued, gesturing over Karissa's shoulder to the village, "It is not only a wardrobe that we seek. The ruined hamlet is haunted by an unnatural beast Karissa named a Yeth Hound. Sunlight is its weakness. Perhaps you have heard of it?" Ysoltre paused for a second but didn't let the ranger answer. "Rogmund and Karissa wish to put it out of our misery. Hroknar and I mean to help. Perhaps you could join our party, that is, unless anyone objects."
Ethan smiled at the bard's offer as he returned the uneaten bits of jerky into his pack. "Well, seeing as though I still have another two months left before I'll be needed back at Orr-Natel, and seeing as though traveling by myself through these mountains has caused me nothing but harm, and seeing as though I'm getting rather tired of having nightly conversations with rocks and small lizards, I would love to join your little adventuring company. That is, if there are no objections."
"A wise choice, Ethan de Nomestra," Rogmund replied. "Though you might find yourself going into danger by our side, the alternative is better than meeting this beast on your own, in the wild, without the presence of those who might render aid." The armored archer smiled. "Welcome, and let's hope that it's past stories you tell tonight, and not a tale of bereavement about this day's activities."
"Then Rogmund, if thee will maintain vigil 'gainst possible attack from yonder hamlet, we might proceed apace," Karissa interjected. "Hroknar can bespeak of our battle codes to our new-found ally, and I can tend Ysoltre's injury. Once both are done, and once Ethan hath given us some indication as to any appropriate skills he might employ on the group's behalf, then we can brave whate'er unknown perils might lurk beyond."
Karissa pushed back the enveloping hood of her cloak and shook loose her long, dark tresses. "Ysoltre, thy wound seemed well on the way to healing when thou didst show it 'ere Ethan did call out to us, though I imagine 'tis causing thee a semblance of discomfort at excessive toil. Aye, perchance e'en enow to slow thy reflexes or rob thee of needed maneuverability should some threat arise. Though I possess mystical abilities which might heal thee completely, these we might need to succor our bodies from greater dangers which may yet await us within the hamlet."
"I have suffered worse." The bard lied; the ugly, scarring wound and his discomfort betrayed him.
The brunette's brow knitted as if in thought. "Yet a Theavian's knowledge and skill is not limited merely to the wielding of forces arcane or holy."
Violet eyes seemed to stare off into infinity, as if Ysoltre and the others were not even present. "White cabbage leaves would absorb any pus present, yet such would require the leaves be broken down along the large thread veins, then heated, then placed on the affected area," Karissa said absently. "No fire hath we at this time, and to build one would be to herald our location as if with trumpets blaring."
She spun suddenly and moved to the saddlebags astride her mount. "My herbal pouch doth contain cloves. Those I might bruise. Thou canst apply them externally to thy injury, for such will deaden skin pain, and provide thee with greater ease of movement. A slice of lemon also will I give thee. If thou dost begin to bleed anew, squeeze the lemon and let the juices flow o'er thy injury. 'Twill sting when applied, but lemon hath an immediate styptic effect and will cause the bleeding to slow and eventually cease, lest thy movements continue toward excessive stress and hardship."
Ysoltre grimaced at the mention of applying lemon juice to a fresh wound but smiled in sincere gratitude and respect for Karissa's knowledge of the healing arts. "I have never met an unwise Theavian," Ysoltre remarked. The minstrel smiled and winked as he accepted the items from her. "You are no exception, milady. My thanks."
The half-elven bard applied the cloves to the wound and tucked his blouse back in. "You should keep the lemon, I haven't a pocket to put it in."
Karissa shrugged and held out her hand, palm upward.
Taking Ethan aside, Hroknar said, "Rogmund over there and Ysoltre, the minstrel getting his wounds looked after, came up with a few signals to indicate our intentions without giving up information to whomever we may be combating at the moment. If, in the middle of a fight, you hear the words 'Red Raven', that means to retreat. If you hear 'Black Crow', that indicates that someone wants you to concentrate your efforts on a single target. And the last one they came up with is, if you become separated from the others, take a dagger and etch the figure of a bird in a circle. That will tell everyone else that you got separated and that you are going to go to the stone circle. It will afford some protection from the beast. At least, that is what Karissa thinks, and, so far, she has the most knowledge of this Yeth Hound."
"Good idea with the signals," Ethan announced aloud. "Let us hope that this Yeth Hound of yours stays hidden. At least, for a while." Ethan turned to Karissa. "With regards to my skills, milady, let me assure you that you'll not find a better tracker in all of Western Glashia. Prior to becoming a jailer at Orr-Natel, I spent several years of service in Langington's Royal Guard. I was trained in the woodlands outside of Gideon by some of the finest rangers and woodsmen around. Although not as experienced as most thieves, I can conceal myself in shadows and traverse natural surrounding silently with some skill. I have an understanding of sorts with some animals, and can even speak with several different types, but only once per day. I'm a keen shot with my long bow, and possess the ability to wield a hand-weapon while attacking with my long sword. If you need help predicting the weather, I'm your man; if you need someone to do a bit of writing or reading in the King's Tongue, I'm your man; if you need someone capable of swimming in rivers and lakes, and surviving rather well within woodland terrain, I'm your man; and finally, if you need someone to do a decent job of translating conversations from the King's Tongue to Fpathen or Pseithen, or back again, I'm your man. Some have called me a jack-of-all-trades. Problem is, I hate the name Jack." With that, Ethan tossed Karissa a wink and took a hearty bite of his jerked beef.
A tentative smile played about Karissa's lips as she looked at the newcomer, a somewhat perplexed look on her face. The Theavian's eyes shifted first to Rogmund, then to Ysoltre, who stood still holding the lemon wedge. Ysoltre dropped the fruit into her hand and awaited the group's departure.
The brunette turned and returned the lemon wedge to the pouch inside her saddlebag, pausing to gaze momentarily at her horse, then Rogmund's. "Since only two of us might take advantage of mounted speed and maneuverability, 'twould be the wisest course for each of us to walk, with either horse on the outside of any configuration. 'Twould offer greater security 'gainst arrow or bolt as we traverse the streets, and Rogmund and Ethan might nock their arrows to bows for quick release, thus enhancing our own ability at ranged warcraft."
Rogmund nodded his agreement. "A sound plan, provided Ysoltre will lead my mount. Hroknar confessed this morning that horsemanship is not his strong suit. Trollbait and Ysoltre can form our outside contingent; Ethan and I can employ our bows to shoot fore, aft, or over the horses; and Hroknar can keep axe and shield at ready, moving to offer melee support as needed or performing any preliminary scouting of a building interior we might wish to enter - under protection of our arrow flight."
"Sound decision," Ethan said as he slipped his pack on and took up his long bow, retrieving a flight arrow from its quiver. "By the looks, Rogmund, I'd say you're a fair shot with a bow," he said, nocking the arrow, holding it and the bow loosely with one hand. "Where, then, should we take up position?" Ethan approached the two horses, visually inspecting each creature.
"Not so close that we all trip over one another," Rogmund replied. "We should keep several paces between the mounts. My horse is familiar with me, so I'll stay near it and Ysoltre. You can walk along beside Trollbait. Hroknar can move in between we four, about level with each horse's head. The tactic is not meant to cover every angle of fire, which would be an impossibility, but simply to make it more difficult from side angles and such."
Ethan nodded, even as he turned his attention to the sky. "Weather should hold. That's good, if we are set upon outdoors."
Ysoltre's brow furrowed at the mention of such tactics. His apathetic expression revealed either his lack of interest in the like or the lack of understanding of such necessities. It almost appeared as if he weren't even listening to a word either speaker said. He did, however, tune in at the mention of his name and take heed at his part in the strategy. The minstrel strolled over to Rogmund's mount and smiled as he stroked the beast's neck and mane. Ysoltre gripped the reins and looked to each of the members of the small party with a facial cast of eagerness to get started.
Hroknar nodded at Karissa's suggested marching order, saying, "That would make sense. Rogmund and Ethan will be able to cover us against any bows, and if needs be, I could throw an axe or two at any attackers, if they are close enough. Or, they can fire as the attackers are charging. I can meet their charge, while they then get their hand-to-hand weapons readied. You and Ysoltre can attack when the opportunity arises, or hold the animals so they do not bolt. It sounds to me like an acceptable plan."
He then jerked a thumb toward Ysoltre and said, "It looks as if our minstrel friend here is ready to go find out why this hamlet is deserted. Let's not disappoint him. I am somewhat eager to go myself!"
The five adventurers started off, moving alongside the stream bed until they came to a copse of trees, beyond which lay the battered and broken remains of what had once been a presumably thriving hamlet.
"Where to begin?" Rogmund asked. "I saw no obvious evidence of strange tracks when Trollbait and I rode through earlier, only what one would expect of an abandoned community that might have been traversed by some lone wayfarer or traveling group during a period of weeks, possibly as much as a month."
"There is the inn of which Ysoltre spoke, for by his tale we know that evidence exists as to a struggle of some type," Karissa remarked. "If any miscreant was to make these ruins his or her home, the twin towers yonder seem a likely place as well. They provide the advantage of height, and thus increased visibility, and might well provide greater security if the structures remain largely intact."
Ethan nodded his head slowly as he examined the ruined hamlet. "Yes, I agree with Karissa. We should have a look at those towers, but check out some of the hamlet as we go. If anything, we don't want to pass by someone, or something, that could sneak up behind us. As we progress, I'll keep a watchful eye out for tracks of any sort. If need be, we might want to wait until dark before advancing on the towers. In fact, we should probably make our way through the hamlet as concealed as possible."
Hroknar nodded as well, but when Ethan was finished, he said, "According to Karissa, the beast which she named a Yeth Hound is a powerful nocturnal creature. She has said that it can only be harmed by enchanted or silver-forged weapons. None of us own such a weapon, do you? If you do not, then the only weapons we have against the creature would be Karissa's and Ysoltre's spells, and our own wits. She has said that this creature is capable of flight and that it strikes without sound. The ruins that we spent the night in just a short distance away might be the best place to be when the sun goes down, since they appear to offer some protection against the Yeth Hound. She has also said that if the Yeth Hound were to find itself caught in the sunlight, it would be sent back into the ethereal. When we awoke this morning, Rogmund took the horses out to graze a little before we broke camp, and he found some evidence that something laid in wait while we slept inside. For these reasons, I would prefer that we conduct any and all searches during the light of day."
"The inn would seem to be the best bet," Ysoltre offered as he studied the buildings, trying to locate the familiar structure. "Or at least a good place to start. We have plenty of daylight to work under so we could search each building on the way to the towers." The bard turned toward Ethan. "And I agree with Hroknar." A soft chuckle rose from his throat, as if to say any other suggestion would be suicidal. "When the sun goes down, we had better be within the stones."
Rogmund looked to his companions. "The inn, then, unless somebody has some great desire to start elsewhere?"
As Ysoltre called out the general direction to the inn - at least as best as he could remember, given his admittedly addled senses at the time - the five adventurers made their way through the abandoned streets of what once surely must have been a thriving, if somewhat remote, community.
"That must have been an armory, or at least a crafter of edged weapons," Hroknar said as he pointed to one squat square-shaped building.
"And that had to be an inn," Rogmund added, gesturing with his nocked bow and arrow toward the "T" shaped structure next door.
"Mayhap," Ysoltre remarked, a pensive look evident on his face. "However, it is not the inn in which I sought food and drink. That one stands further on, across the main village square, almost on a side street. I..I came across a bridge - I think - and made my way," the bard paused, deep in thought, "my way in a fairly straight line of movement. The inn is a two-story structure. 'L' shaped, I believe, with a gaping hole in one wall of the upper story. The hole should be facing an alleyway between the inn and another structure."
"Then lead on, Ysoltre," Rogmund replied. "However, we might wish to retrace our steps if any of us notices a compelling building. The inn looks sturdy enough, though I'd be afraid to enter that blasted-out-cinder Hroknar thinks might have been an armory. Damn ceiling and walls look as though they might collapse if a mouse skittered through there."
Karissa patted and stroked the neck of her mount. "If our prey is a Yeth Hound, then many of these ruined buildings would seem to offer insufficient succor from the sun's influence."
Hroknar grunted his agreement as he nodded his head. "As was said previously, there exists daylight aplenty if fortune is with us and our search is uneventful. The other structures can be examined after Ysoltre's inn and the two towers. Are we in agreement?"
The Dervatear's gaze fell on each of his companions, finally coming to a halt on the newcomer, whose attention seemed focused on the street before them. "You've been silent on the matter at hand, Ethan de Nomestra. What's your opinion?"
Ethan shrugged. The ranger shifted his attention from the street back to his fellows. "I've been trying to determine if there are any tell-tale signs of travel that might provide some indication of who or what might still reside in this hamlet, if anyone besides this mysterious beast of yours still does."
"And?"
"Time and weather have obscured what tracks might once have existed, and the ground is hard and packed," Ethan replied. "I've yet to notice anything of particular interest."
Rogmund gestured toward the roof line with his bow. "Just so you don't forget to look up as much as down. If this hamlet is not as abandoned as it looks, a likely spot for an ambush by missile fire would be a combined attack from the rooftops and a few side buildings."
Ethan's gaze drifted toward the skyline. He smiled and gave a quick nod of acknowledgment to Rogmund, even as the ranger absently tested the fit of his nocked arrow nestled amidst line and bow.
"This way," Ysoltre said, finally deciding that he was indeed on the correct path. The bard led his compatriots along the street and through the village square. Ethan pointed out the bridge evident in the distance, indicating that Ysoltre's remembrance seemed to be bearing fruit. Beyond the village square were several side streets. The minstrel picked one and led the group to the remains of what once obviously had been an inn.
"No obvious signs of impending doom," Rogmund offered, his gaze darting this way and that, from the skyline to the surrounding buildings.
The inn seemed abandoned. A small covered walkway was apparent in front of the inn. The doorway was expansive, no longer having any doors to bar entrance. Likewise, the two, wide windows piercing the front wall were devoid of shutters. Above the covered walkway, small windows indicating a second story were evident.
"The footsteps I found led upstairs," Ysoltre announced as he gestured to the second story windows, "and then to several rooms, one of which had the wall blown outward. I just hope my own movements have not obscured any clues." Ysoltre began to tether Rogmund's horse to the pillar holding up the covered walkway. "Shall we have a look around?"
Hroknar cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the others. "There is something else I would like to take a look at, and that would be a couple of the houses in this hamlet. If we were to search one or two of the houses, it would serve two purposes: first, we might be able to locate some good clothing for friend Ysoltre, or perhaps even a better weapon than the dagger and cleaver he now carries; the other purpose would be to try and determine the haste the former residents of this village left. If we find clothing still in closets, food in the pantries, or the remains of livestock in the yards, that would tell us that they left with some urgency. Whereas, if they were able to take their time about leaving, they would be able to pack everything up and take it with them."
"Bowen the Warder did bespeak that the tales of the beast began about a fortnight past," Karissa remarked. "Perchance an examination of the hamlet might lend credence to this belief." She paused, violet eyes taking in those of her fellows as she secured her mount to one of the walkway posts. "Many a structure hath the appearance of decrepitude that seemingly could come from only one or two ways: the passage of months, years e'en; or conflagration brought about by conflict both volatile and brutal. The passage of time would not seem consistent with Bowen's tale."
"How shall we enter the inn?" Hroknar inquired. "I am not opposed to leading this expedition into the building. In fact, I think it might be better if I do. I am most proficient in close fighting. Rogmund and Ethan can cover with their bows, or move forward if they are unable to use them. Likewise, Karissa can cover those forward with her specialties, and Ysoltre can move forward as well, or stay with Karissa to protect her, when conditions require it."
"Actually, bows aren't all that great for inside fighting - in most circumstances anyway," Rogmund replied, "and while I freely admit to being skillful in the art, I'm better still with a sword in hand." The armored human loosened the arrow from his bow as he stepped under the covered walkway, though his eyes continued to survey the roofline and street as he replaced the arrow in his quiver. Rogmund shouldered his bow and drew forth his long sword, a slight smile playing about his lips before a mask of grim resolution settled onto his face. "Hroknar should lead. Ethan can loose an arrow or two over his frame with little trouble, lending missile support to break up any charge we might face. Hroknar and I then can settle in, one beside the other, he on my left side since his shield will protect his own left."
"Yes, a good plan," Ethan said to Rogmund as the ranger took up position behind Hroknar. "I agree with the Dervatear, though, that we might want to check out a few other buildings before entering the inn. I have a feeling that Hroknar wants to have a look at the armory, or what's left of it. Besides, it sounds like this Bowen the Warder's tale doesn't agree with the condition of the hamlet." Ethan smiled at Karissa, tossing her a wink. "Sounds like a bit of a mystery to me, eh? Since we've got the daylight, we should take full advantage of it. What say the rest of you?"
"Well, I for one would like to get a look at whatever signs this beast left behind," Rogmund replied. "Frankly, I've been trying to imagine what it is we might be facing based on Trollbait's...ummmm...rather disturbing description. The signs Ysoltre said he saw within the inn might provide us with a more realistic assessment, of the beast's size, if nothing else. Plus the armory is on the far side of the village square."
Rogmund's gaze switched suddenly from Ethan to Karissa, the latter of whom looked pensive; the whole sequence seeming to be as if some type of alarm had awakened the armored swordsman. "Theavian's are rarely mum, except when trouble approaches. Your lot is kind of like wild animals in that regard. Why the silence, Trollbait?"
"Thou shalt accuse me of seeing menace in shadow."
Her armored cohort's visage altered itself in seamless contortion; his look one of fleeting confusion, then concern, and finally somewhat forced amusement. "Probably. I usually do." Rogmund paused, and seemed to begin to address the others, but stopped himself. He smiled at the woman, his manner gentle and reassuring. "Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Say your piece."
The dark-haired beauty looked from Rogmund to Ethan to Hroknar and, finally, to Ysoltre. "We should not leave the horses unattended on the street. Our mounts we should secure in a more sheltered area, in a place less likely to be frequented by prying eyes, yet close enow at hand should we require them. I...I like not this place. This hamlet hath the essence of something...unnatural."
"Something unnatural, eh?" Ethan asked as his eyes scanned the area. "Kind of sounds like this tavern I happened upon down in Aarenki. But no matter, Karissa is right; we should secure the horses somewhere safe. Why don't we check out the inn first and those markings Ysoltre was talking about. Maybe we could bring the horses into the inn's lobby and tie them down there. At least they wouldn't be left outside, and we would have quick access to them."
Karissa stiffened noticeably. "Thou wert in Aarenki?"
"My work took me there once," Ethan explained, a dark mood suddenly evident in his stance and visage. "Langington has an alliance with Aarenki, which means that I had to go down there and retrieve a criminal. A dirty place, Aarenki is, no matter what anyone says. Poverty the likes of which you have never seen. And the slavery . . . "
Ethan shook his head slowly. "Pitiful. My stay within the confines of Aarenki was short, but not short enough. If memory serves, it was three days in and three days out, and not a happy moment in between." The Langington bowman glanced at Karissa and smiled. "No, Langington is my home; the woods and forested glens surrounding Lake Gideon are where I feel the most at peace. And, I must say, they're a far cry from where we are right now. Let us move on, friends, and see what this excuse for an inn has to offer us."
"A foul and loathsome trade, slavery," Hroknar spat, his voice akin to that of an angry hiss. "The world would be better off without the sale and ownership of people. Take the plight of my people in Arvandus, with that worm Tearsac as her ruler! Ever since that Fpathen gultraught murdered his way into power, my people, hard workers one and all, have been less than nothing in their own homeland - while the lazy buy slaves to do the work that they won't do for themselves! Mark my words! One day, Arvandus will be free, for all her people!"
Hroknar looked down, noticing that his fists were clenched to the point that his knuckles had turned several shades paler. The Dervatear turned to the building, apparently trying to control his passion. "Please accept my apologies. For far too long have the Dervatear sat idly by, hiding from the slavers deep in their warrens. But change is coming. I can feel it." He turned back to his compatriots, a slight smile playing about his lips, a noticeable glint in his eye.
Ysoltre looked pensive. "Though mine and my family's travels have taken me to many places, I have never traveled to Aarenki," he said absently. "Despite its nasty reputation, I would like to visit; I am forever intrigued by different cultures." The minstrel began to untether Rogmund's horse from the walkway post. "But there is plenty of time for chit-chat later. We should make a decision before the moon and stars chase away the sun."
The Dervatear Axemaster nodded in a direction across the street. "Why don't you just leave the animals in the yard of that building? They would be close enough in case they are needed, but at the same time, they will also be secured from wandering off."
Rogmund's gaze seemed to linger on Karissa for several long moments, the Theavian having grown silent for reasons he was well aware. "The yard across the way seems a wise choice; secure, yet not readily evident to prying eyes. There also appears to be some new springtime growth on which the horses can graze if we remove the bits from their mouths. It should be a treat for them; horses generally find new growth to be more palatable than old."
Karissa untethered her mount, her hands releasing the reins a bit more forcefully than required. She maneuvered the horse around, and began to lead it across the street. "Aarenkian culture is not something to be embraced, e'en if such intent is to but view its nature; 'tis something to be avoided...or, for those who possess not ignorance or who profit not from heartless disdain and cruelty, eradicated," the woman said as she moved past Ysoltre, her eyes fixed firmly on the yard across the street the whole time.
Ysoltre smiled at first, seemingly amused at the Theavian's demeanor, but then paused and changed to a serious expression. He quickly loosened the second mount's reins and caught up to the woman.
"My apologies, Lady Karissa, I meant no offense." He matched her pace and walked along side the Theavian. The minstrel looked in her eye and brandished the smile that had changed many minds of the fairer sex. For some reason, he did not believe his charm would collect the spoils this time.
"But what of the pleasantries the land may have to offer? The sights, the sounds, the music, the food, the art and crafts. One bad apple cannot spoil the bunch. To eradicate an entire way of life, regardless of its evils, is illogical and a judgment not for such as us two." Ysoltre spoke in a smooth, amiable tone and smiled throughout, offering his opinion just as it was meant; an opinion which could be agreed or disagreed with without offense.
Hroknar leveled a stare at the minstrel that could have frozen an attacking cave bear, even as the conversation tugged at his body and forced the Dervatear to accompany man and woman in their erstwhile trek. "While your argument seems one to which many persons might agree, on this subject I must speak against you. This 'way of life' you speak of may be deeply ingrained into the society, but what of the slaves? Do they not also deserve the same protection you wish to bestow upon the Aarenkians? Don't get me wrong, they should punish their criminals, but to force them into a life of servitude is wrong. Life imprisonment is acceptable, but to beat them on a daily basis is not. I have also heard that the leader of Aarenki is a just and kindly man toward his slaves, but that still makes him an owner of people!"
The Dervatear paused for a few moments, letting these words sink in before he finished. "Tearsac is not kind toward my people in Arvandus. However, it would make owning people no more right or wrong if he was. I wonder if your tune would change if the slave were a close friend, or relative of yours? Would you then still want to protect that way of life?"
Ysoltre had a rebuttal in mind before Hroknar was through speaking, but the bard let the Dervatear finish. A lesson taught him long ago by his parents drifted forth: To interrupt during an argument is to admit defeat. The minstrel smiled and said, in a soothing, patient, but somewhat annoyed tone, "I do not think you were listening to me, friend. To the hells with the slavers and let Abilloth sort them out. But do you mean to tell me that every last Aarenkian is a cruel-hearted slave owner? I think not." The half-elf offered Hroknar another smile to reassure his friend that he meant no offense. "Despite this conversation, I still wish to visit, for one should seek to learn new things and at least attempt to understand other cultures."
Karissa opened the gate of the fenced-in area, her movements betraying what might have been a certain tenseness or strain as she removed the bit from her gelding's mouth. The brunette motioned for Ysoltre to follow suit and likewise remove the bit from Rogmund's horse as well. "Aarenki's ruling caste delights in domination and submission. They are pariahs, one and all, devastators of goodly folk - body, mind, and soul - for their own entertainment and twisted designs. Ne'er trust one of that ilk, nor those who profit from dealing with Aarenkians, else thy curiosity at learning more about Aarenkian culture may be fraught with personal peril."
Ysoltre followed the Theavian into the yard and repeated her actions with Rogmund's horse. He couldn't hold back a quiet laugh as she stated her mind again. This time he was certain the very-much-opinionated woman amused him. "My dear Karissa," his kindly smile turning to an almost sarcastic one, "prejudice is not a trait becoming of you. I would th..." he stopped when he realized he was teetering on the edge of teasing his female compatriot.
The minstrel laughed, looking to Hroknar and then back to Karissa. "Look at us! We are arguing about a country that lies hundreds upon hundreds of miles away, when there is urgent business at hand." Ysoltre finished with Rogmund's horse and held open the gate for Karissa. He tried flashing his most charming smile once again. "A silly way to begin a friendship, wouldn't you say?"
Across the street, but still clearly within earshot, Ethan placed one foot on a step and rested his elbow across his bent knee. "I think I may have rustled a few feathers here. Best to keep my mouth shut, eh?" he asked Rogmund. "I think I'll just wait right hear until they're ready to move on." With that, Ethan reached into his pack for two strips of jerked beef. As he took a bite of one of the strips, he offered Rogmund the other.
Rogmund turned toward Ethan, accepting the strip of jerked beef. "You couldn't have known. Trollbait's reaction I expected. Hroknar's was a bit of a surprise, though it makes sense given that he hails from Arvandus." The armored warrior stiffened as his gaze shifted back to their compatriots. "Let it go, Trollbait," he mumbled softly, "the bard has no idea he's on such dangerous ground."
The archer fought off an impulse to walk across the street as he noticed Karissa glaring silently at the minstrel. "Silly?" she said, the sound of the word a bit harsh, even as it seemed to break the subtle context the group had found itself mired in. "Aye, for the nonce; yet know that Aarenki's influence can be felt well beyond its borders, e'en in Langington, e'en here."
Karissa forced a tentative smile to her lips as she walked through the opened gate. "Mine own emotions betray me. Talk of this matter hath led us all to ignore where we stand, and the possible ramifications of such blatant disregard. If there were brigands secreted about, easy prey would we be counted."
Hroknar's gaze shot to the abandoned buildings and their rooftops. "You are both right; this is neither the time nor the place to be arguing the rights or wrongs of slavery, or of world affairs. Let us take up this talk around the campfire tonight." Then, with a cold look he added, "But know this. I am on a quest to end the enslavement of my people! The only thing that will stop me from completing that quest is death!"
Ysoltre simply offered another smile as he followed Karissa out of the neighboring yard and to the inn.
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