Hastos, squints his eyes at Buckeran, his face stoney and calculating. In a fraction of a second Hastos glances over to his axe then back to Buckeran. In a split second determining the time it would take to reach it. “The item is not for sale.” Hastos says quickly. “What would you do with such an item?”
Buckeran ignores the implied threat and bows with a flourish. "I am Buckeran! Grand Archivist of Santekh, keeper and protector of artifacts, relics, and wondrous items of mystery and power! My goal is to procure, collect, curate, and study the wonders of Khur. I have collected many such fascinating items and I delight in their study. We can learn much from marvels such as these, and that knowledge... all knowledge in fact, can only serve as a boon to our cause!" After he's finished glorifying himself, his posture relaxes a bit. He smiles in a way that is meant to be disarming, but comes across as a teensy bit condescending.
"And besides, my dear boy! If you won't sell it, and you won't touch it... what on Krynn do you intend to do with the thing? Have this young man sit on it for the rest of his natural life? If I wanted to, I could simply employ the town guards to force it from you, but we both know that would only cause a bloodbath, and I'd say you've bathed in quite enough blood for one day. And I could hardly steal it from you..." he holds up his hands with the missing fingers... "not anymore." he clarifies with a playful wink. "I'm offering you the deal of a lifetime. To be rid of something that clearly frightens you, and bring it to my archives where it can be kept safe... protected, and studied. And if there is an evil curse upon it, perhaps a way could be found to remove such evil from it, while filling your pockets with something you can use." He rubs his thumb and finger together greedily. "Coin... cold, hard, uncursed."
Kaylan shrugs. "He's... different."
Buckeran's playful bravado changes to mild offence.
"But he's trustworthy. He's one of the founding members, and he does have a knack for keeping and safely storing powerful artifacts. If you wish to see how he preserves them, he holds office in headquarters."
Hastos relaxes a bit. Only slightly more put at ease. “Impressive credentials.”
”I yield the decision to my friends. To sell or otherwise. They’re wiser than I am.”
Hastos looks around to each of his team members with a nod. For the first time since the attack, Hastos examines the front of his armor, the blood already drying into a thicker consistency. He examines his hands to see the blood already drying into the cracks of his hands. He looks over at Glynnis.
”Perhaps when this situation is concluded… is there a bath available?”
"Can't sell it to you as it's not mine, matter of fact that seemed to be what it wanted, for me to say it was mine and that ain't happening after what it did to the poor kid there." Merkas looks over the older kender (19 insight check, judging how trustworthy he is)thinking through the situation"I am willing to take a finders fee though, coin really isn't something I am overly concerned about, that ring you mentioned or something like it would be great. Dont' want any other living weapons trying to take hold of my mind."
At Hastos statement Merkas holds back for a minute...
"Why that's an outrage! You offend me with such a high ransom! I won't pay a copper more than- wait what? This ring? For the scythe? My good man, we have a deal!!"
Hastos relaxes a bit. Only slightly more put at ease. “Impressive credentials.”
”I yield the decision to my friends. To sell or otherwise. They’re wiser than I am.”
Hastos looks around to each of his team members with a nod. For the first time since the attack, Hastos examines the front of his armor, the blood already drying into a thicker consistency. He examines his hands to see the blood already drying into the cracks of his hands. He looks over at Glynnis.
”Perhaps when this situation is concluded… is there a bath available?”
Glynnis nods and doles out 4 keys. "Water's fer drinkin' an' we ain't got much o' that. We got oil and a scouring stone ye can use ta wash up. There's coals fer the fire, an' a stove ta heat the oil. I'm sure Kaylan can take it from here."
Kaylan returns with some acolytes who cover the body in ceremonial wraps and take the corpse away. "I'm really sorry all this happened to you on my watch. I hope the rest of your night is peaceful." With that, she salutes and escorts the acolytes away.
"Why that's an outrage! You offend me with such a high ransom! I won't pay a copper more than- wait what? This ring? For the scythe? My good man, we have a deal!!"
Looking over the older treasure hunter Merkas starts to smile and laugh. Then in Kender speech he says jovially
"You're Bucky Bone Hunter! Gee we heard all about you while my sis and I were chasing after treasures ourselves. So if you figure this things not worth a copper over whatever amount you figured I would ask, but happily trade your ring, I would say you can have this scythe, but I would that you keep us in mind for the future if you come across anything or hear of anything that would fit our skillsets.
After the offer he states
"That seem fair enough to you? For our future endeavours together!"
Sharn raised a finger, the deal seemingly almost done.
"My good Buckeran and Merkas, I feel like whoever becomes the owner of this weapon will be subject to a slow, horrifying and excruciating death."
The worry in his face looks legitimate, but Sharn knows that people have the freedom of choice.
"My inquiry would've been if you could destroy it. But you don't seem to wish its destruction. I can respect your curiosity, venerable kender, but I worry about your safety. If nothing else is left to be done, I can bear the curse until we can bring an end to the scythe's evil."
Sera had quickly sheathed her sword after the beheading, but the weight of her actions lingered. The others referred to him as “the poor child,” “the kid,” and guilt coiled in her chest. She took a step back, watching the commotion unfold around the dead fanatic and his cursed weapon.
The discussion shifted to what to do with the scythe. The arrival of a mature kender, Buckeran—a collector of magical artifacts and a librarian of sorts—only added to the tension. He seemed eager to take the weapon off their hands, offering a ring in trade, one that supposedly protected its wearer from mind control.
Sera folded her arms, listening as Merkas’ eyes gleamed at the mention of the ring. She finally cut in.
“Perhaps… it is not wise to trade away the one thing that protects you from its influence, Buckeran?” Her voice was calm but firm. “But a deal for something equally useful—potions, another magic item—would be smart.”
She glanced at Merkas, who looked like he already considered the ring his. Her lips curled in a teasing smirk.
“Or maybe… a rope that knots itself.”
A pointed jab at the kender’s unfortunate knot-tying skills, which had failed to keep the fanatic restrained. She looked between the two kenders, making sure they truly thought this over.
Deciding the matter was out of her hands, she shifted her focus elsewhere.
Hastos had been almsot pleading for a bath, he was blood stained and would stink even more very soon, and Glynnis’ news that there wasn’t enough drinking water made her stomach sink. It was cruel, this place—where thirst and hunger were as much an enemy as a blade.
Sera herself felt the grime on her skin, the sweat clinging to her, the stain of many days journey with dust and mules.
She exhaled and flipped over an empty barrel, repurposed as a chair, then crouched beside it. Scooping up a handful of dry sand from the floor, she mixed it with a few drops of leftover water from an abandoned cup from a nearby table. The gritty mud sat in her palm and stood next to the barrel as she closed her eyes and whispered.
“Paladine… give us water. Please.”
The moment the words left her lips, the air shifted. A sudden hush fell over the room, as if the world itself held its breath. The sand in her hands trembled, and then—like glass shattering in reverse—it melted into pure, crystal-clear liquid. It slipped between her fingers, hitting the empty barrel with a resonant splash.
Then, in an instant, a torrent of water erupted, gushing forth as if an unseen force had struck a mountain spring. The barrel filled within seconds, the water impossibly clear, impossibly fresh. The scent of morning dew and rain-soaked earth filled the air.
Sera stood, fingers still damp with the divine gift, and brushed the last of the dust from her palms.
“Let’s freshen up, get a good rest,” she said, rolling the tension from her shoulders. Then, with a steady gaze, she added, “At dawn, we set out.” ( Cast create water 2x for 20 gallons of water )
“I think this makes the most sense. I’m sorry, Merkas. But perhaps making sure the person handling the scythe has every protection will keep us from having to deal with that thing again. Potions that would help us get through our next mission might more prudent.”
Hastos watched in astonishment as Sera summoned water from what seemed to be the very air around them. The sudden existence of the water seemed to change everything about the room as if life itself breathed a sigh of relief. “Wow” is all he could bring himself to utter as he stared into the barrel. Washing blood off in it seemed somehow sacrilegious. He became embarrassed at his calloused request for a bath. Taking for granted something that’s so rare and precious to those suffering in this town.
”The blood will taint that water permanently.” Hastos carefully dips one of the mugs into the barrel and retrieves a small amount and drinks slowly. His eyes closed as he felt the water go down. After the events of the day, the water seemed to carry with it a promise.
Hastos gestures to the others “I would enjoy this precious gift. Thank you Sera.” Hastos picks up his axe, the weight of the day causing the tip to drag a moment across the floor. A slight ringing emits like a bell tolling the end of a day. He takes one of the keys. “Thank you Glynnis. I’ll go heat up the oil and see if I can get cleaned up.”
Hastos holds the key in his palm. Looking back at the group he says “I’ll be in room 3. Should anyone need me.”
Did his eyes hang on Sera a fraction longer than the others? Did the corner of his mouth smile slightly? Someone not paying close attention would easily miss the micro expressions. He made them without hope or expectation.
Hastos throws his bag over his shoulder and walks to his room to heat some oil, clean up, and get a decent nights rest.
Sera stared at the barrel, at the water that had come forth like a blessing, like a miracle. She had wanted it for drinking, for life—but washing in something so pure, so holy, felt almost improper.
Glynnis, ever practical, suggested using oil and a scouring stone instead. The alternative made sense, and Sera nodded absently—until she caught Hastos’ gaze. Or had she? It was fleeting, unreadable, gone before she could be sure.
Shaking the thought away, she turned to Handar. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around the old dwarf in a long, lingering hug. He smelled of sweat, ale, and home.
“I’ll withdraw now…” she murmured, pulling back slightly. “Verhanna mentioned a cart for retrieving the crates. Maybe it could be ready by morning?”
She glanced between him and Glynnis, feeling the weight of the day settle into her bones. When they nodded, she let go, fingers trailing for a second longer than needed, then grabbed the key to room number one.
Inside, she stripped off her gear and scrubbed away the grime with oil and a rough scouring stone. The harshness of it grounded her, stripping away sweat, blood, and the stink of the road. The herbal scent left behind was preferable, even if it could never cleanse what truly clung to her.
The room was warm, the hum of cicadas thick in the night air. Sera tossed and turned beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling, her sword hilt resting within reach. Sleep refused to take her. The battle replayed in her mind—the fanatic’s wild eyes, the way her blade had burned through flesh, the way his head had fallen.
She exhaled sharply. She didn’t want to be alone tonight.
She wanted to forget.
Throwing off the covers, she grabbed her sword, the only thing she’d never leave behind, and slipped out into the hallway, clad only in her tunic. She padded silently to room number three, hesitating only for a moment before smirking to herself.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” she whispered. “He doesn’t open, and I just continue flirting tomorrow.”
Still, she knew Hastos. He had faded during the battle, lost in old ghosts. Waking him suddenly might end with a dagger to her throat.
Better to make her presence known first.
Lifting a hand, she tapped lightly on the door.
“Hastos…?”
Her voice was just above a whisper, low and inviting. Then, after a pause—one heartbeat, two—she leaned in slightly, grinning.
The door opens slowly. The light from the hallway spilling slightly into the room and across Hastos’ face. He clearly had not been sleeping either. His expression was a mix of gratitude and relief. His smile was warm.
From the darkness of the room his hand reaches out, inviting her to take it and join him.
“So what you figure Bucky? My friends got a good point. If you got lots of articles that would be helpful to use we can be helpful to you.”Merkas climbs off the pack and moves it aside for the collector“I got blue chasing after artifacts myself so I know a thing or two of what to look for so you got something needing finding we can help with that, just give us first dibs and preferred prices in the future?” Reaching out a hand to shake
"Why that's an outrage! You offend me with such a high ransom! I won't pay a copper more than- wait what? This ring? For the scythe? My good man, we have a deal!!"
Looking over the older treasure hunter Merkas starts to smile and laugh. Then in Kender speech he says jovially
"You're Bucky Bone Hunter! Gee we heard all about you while my sis and I were chasing after treasures ourselves. So if you figure this things not worth a copper over whatever amount you figured I would ask, but happily trade your ring, I would say you can have this scythe, but I would that you keep us in mind for the future if you come across anything or hear of anything that would fit our skillsets.
After the offer he states
"That seem fair enough to you? For our future endeavours together!"
Buckeran winces at the name.
In kenderspeak
"I haven't been Bucky Bone Hunter in a long time, my friend. And I'm trying my best not to advertise it. But yes, that's me. Those were younger, wilder times, and the fingers lost is what I have to show for it. Well... that and my massive collection of artifacts! HA!"
He looks at the group that is clearly dragging themselves off to bed, then back to Merkas.
In kenderspeak
"Tell you what... I don't get out much these days, but I do like to hire brave adventurers such as yourselves. Bring your friends to my office at the headquarters during daylight hours. I always know where good treasure is to be found, provided I can get my cut," he says with a wink.
With that, Buckeran shakes Merkas's hand, leaving the ring in his palm. He throws his cloak over the scythe and absconds merrily with it towards his office, humming a very joyful tune. But he stops at Sharn's warning.
Sharn raised a finger, the deal seemingly almost done.
"My good Buckeran and Merkas, I feel like whoever becomes the owner of this weapon will be subject to a slow, horrifying and excruciating death."
The worry in his face looks legitimate, but Sharn knows that people have the freedom of choice.
"My inquiry would've been if you could destroy it. But you don't seem to wish its destruction. I can respect your curiosity, venerable kender, but I worry about your safety. If nothing else is left to be done, I can bear the curse until we can bring an end to the scythe's evil."
Buckeran eyes the dwarf as if to size him up. "A trade has been made, and I'm rather happy with the outcome. But I understand that the scythe seems to have multiple claimers. If you are to bare the burden of this weapon, I shall require my ring back, you know."
Sera folded her arms, listening as Merkas’ eyes gleamed at the mention of the ring. She finally cut in.
“Perhaps… it is not wise to trade away the one thing that protects you from its influence, Buckeran?” Her voice was calm but firm. “But a deal for something equally useful—potions, another magic item—would be smart.”
She glanced at Merkas, who looked like he already considered the ring his. Her lips curled in a teasing smirk.
“Or maybe… a rope that knots itself.”
A pointed jab at the kender’s unfortunate knot-tying skills, which had failed to keep the fanatic restrained. She looked between the two kenders, making sure they truly thought this over.
Buckeran barely stifled a chuckle at the implication that he was unprotected. "Young lady. I assure you, this coat is more than protection enough to bring it to my office. Most everything on me wards against one thing or another. And besides, as I mentioned earlier, the scythe didn't call to me. I don't have whatever it is the scythe seeks. If I had to guess, it seeks warriors... those who are willing, and able... to kill. I am neither willing, nor able. Did you, perchance, hear its call? What did it promise you, I wander?"
Buckeran turns to the party, still holding the scythe in his cloak like a swaddled baby that's far too large for his diminutive frame. "I live to haggle, and I could do this all night. But I think, even if you wish to change your mind and reclaim the scythe, my office is the safest place to keep it for the night. I'll tell you what. I'll keep it locked in an anti-magic field chamber. If you change your mind, bring the ring back and claim it for yourself tomorrow. Cursed or not, a powerful weapon such as this could do much good in the right hands. Cursed weapons have such a terrible reputation. But cursed weapons, especially sentient ones, can be tamed. A strong will can command such a thing, knowing it will never leave the wielder's side... because it can't. That's the primary function of a curse, and quite handy if you find yourself around those who have sticky fingers." He offers a playful wink at Merkas.
She exhaled and flipped over an empty barrel, repurposed as a chair, then crouched beside it. Scooping up a handful of dry sand from the floor, she mixed it with a few drops of leftover water from an abandoned cup from a nearby table. The gritty mud sat in her palm and stood next to the barrel as she closed her eyes and whispered.
“Paladine… give us water. Please.”
The moment the words left her lips, the air shifted. A sudden hush fell over the room, as if the world itself held its breath. The sand in her hands trembled, and then—like glass shattering in reverse—it melted into pure, crystal-clear liquid. It slipped between her fingers, hitting the empty barrel with a resonant splash.
Then, in an instant, a torrent of water erupted, gushing forth as if an unseen force had struck a mountain spring. The barrel filled within seconds, the water impossibly clear, impossibly fresh. The scent of morning dew and rain-soaked earth filled the air.
Sera stood, fingers still damp with the divine gift, and brushed the last of the dust from her palms.
“Let’s freshen up, get a good rest,” she said, rolling the tension from her shoulders. Then, with a steady gaze, she added, “At dawn, we set out.” ( Cast create water 2x for 20 gallons of water )
"Besides, it seems you already have the most valuable treasure in town. The ability to create spring fresh water in town is a power that Santekh... indeed this whole region needs greatly." He sighs... "A pity no one has claimed my own bounty to seek a portable geyser. Must be too dangerous for most mercenaries. Ah well."
Glynnis drops her mop at the sight of the water-filled barrel and gasps... "I'll... be... damned."
“I think this makes the most sense. I’m sorry, Merkas. But perhaps making sure the person handling the scythe has every protection will keep us from having to deal with that thing again. Potions that would help us get through our next mission might more prudent.”
Buckeran sags a little at Hastos's statement. "Unfortunately, potions are a thing I do not have to trade with. You'll have to see the witchdoctor for that." Seeing Hastos leave to his room, he considers the deal in suspense, and therefore unable to conclude. Gently, he sets the scythe down and unwraps it without touching it. "My ring, please?" He requests, looking at Merkas.
“So what you figure Bucky? My friends got a good point. If you got lots of articles that would be helpful to use we can be helpful to you.”Merkas climbs off the pack and moves it aside for the collector“I got blue chasing after artifacts myself so I know a thing or two of what to look for so you got something needing finding we can help with that, just give us first dibs and preferred prices in the future?” Reaching out a hand to shake
Buckeran loves an opportunist, and perks up a bit at the offer. "I leave the scythe with you tonight. And... on second thought... the ring. But the ring is not yours to keep. It's collateral, and I have witnesses to that fact!" He points at Glynnis, Handar, and Sharn, nodding. "Ye-heh-hes I do! My request in return is that you come to me for work before you leave in the morning, and bring the ring! I have many fine bounties to be completed, and I need brave adventurers for such tasks." He takes your hand and gives it a rapid shake.
Sharn took a deep breath and smiled. It seemed like there would be a lot to do tomorrow.
"Good Buckeran, I trust we'll be able to pick up the items tomorrow? For now, if you will be taking that scythe, please be careful and keep it secret, keep it safe."
He knocked on the floor with his staff.
"For now, I wonder if fate has changed ... I will be outside, before I turn in for the night. Good night everyone."
Sharn walked slow and precise steps to the street, and then around it. It was as if the dwarf was looking for the best patch of dirt he could find. Then, he sat cross-legged and looked up, his staff scratching gently the dirt in front of him. Tonight the stars where bright, no doubt the dirt would be just the same.
Buckeran leaves. whistling his merry tune, and the night settles in, bringing a welcome chill to the air.
Sharn can see the tent community to his left, candles, provided by the gentle and caring candlemaker of Santekh, Dana, light the community like stars. People huddle together for warmth and comfort until sleep claims them one by one.
Inside the dance hall, Glynnis and Handar finish the last of their chores and retire to their own chambers. And for once all day... there is peace over Santekh... aside from the rhythmic bumping sounds coming from room 3.
Hastos and Sera had a wonderful and rejuvenating night, and awaken with Heroic Inspiration.
You awaken with the dawn to the sounds of horses and a murmur of bustle in the streets. The tent community is starting to stir, and workers are rising and gathering their tools for the day. A halfling woman is shouting out orders to the volunteers who are rationing out food and water to the community, and trying her best to get the people to form a line so everyone gets a fair share.
Officials are calling out job offers for workers who wish to learn how to reinforce structures and rebuild Santekh. And a few other well-armed bounty hunters (currently serving as town guards) patrol the area to keep order. The shops are also starting to open.
(I have to assume a little but how Hastos move to make this love scene. It kinda must be a "we" point of participation here ;) Hope you forgive me MrUncleTio and DM ).
They didn’t need words. They both knew why she was here. Why she had come to him in the dead of night, barefoot and wrapped only in her tunic. The pull between them was undeniable—a desperate, unspoken need to escape. To forget.
Sera let the fabric slip from her shoulders, and it pooled at her feet as she stepped toward him, claiming his lips with a fevered hunger. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her in, their bodies pressing together, skin against skin, heat against heat. They staggered back, breathless, until the backs of his legs met the bed, and they collapsed onto it, the wooden frame creaking beneath their weight.
Like a dam breaking, everything poured out—fear, frustration, longing, the weight of war and death. She didn’t want to think. She only wanted to feel.
She moved over and lay on her back and invited him over her, needing no hesitation, no slow caress or teasing touch—just the rush of being joined with him. A gasp slipped from her lips as he connected, a quiet moan of pleasure before she caught herself, biting down on her lower lip. The windows were open, the warm night air filling the room, but the last thing she needed was the entire town hearing them.
The bed knocked against the wall with each thrust, she chuckled a bit and shared looks with Hastos. The inn would know what happen here, but she hardly cared any more. The sensation built fast, and when the release came, it left her trembling in each his arms. Breathing hard and a rush of wonderful emotions from top to toe.
With barely a moment to catch her breath, he turned her onto her hands and knees, his grip firm on her waist , this time slower, deeper. Sera let herself sink into the feeling, her fingers gripping the sheets as pleasure coursed through her.
When she finally straddled him, her hands splayed against his chest, she looked down at him, a passionate gleam in her eyes and a joyful grin. She was setting the pace now, watching as his composure unraveled beneath her. Both touching each other and moving toward the inevitable climax once more.
The moment it hit, her fingers clenched against his skin, her body arching as his name slipped from her lips in a hushed whisper. "...Hastos...." The night air was thick with the scent of sweat and herbs, the distant hum of cicadas filling the silence between their shuddering breaths.
And for a little while, there was no war. No looming battles or burdens.
Just this. Just them.
...the sound of a town outside the window awake Sera. Shouts about getting in line for water and food. Apply for work. Donkeys protesting. Children playing...
Hastos opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling of the room. The makeshift wooden beams and plaster tinted various shades after years of damage and repairs. The wooden beams looked very old and were probably beautiful in years past. The sounds of the town were beginning to fill the room. If he stayed right here, right as he lay, he could easily imagine this room being in a distant place far from the horrors waiting just outside. A place in the mountains maybe where the smell of evergreens fill the air and water ran free, cold, and clear.
Right here. Beside her. He could feel her warmth pressed next to him. The sunlight bounced off her exposed shoulder and slender neck. The intense events of the night still echo in his mind. He runs the back of his finger down the nape of her neck and over her shoulder. Down her arm to her side. He puts his hand on her side and moves it across to her stomach and pulls her close. There are parts of him that want a repeat of last night. His hands find softer areas and Sera stirs, smiling. Clearly also interested in perhaps one more round before their shared fantasy come crashing down into reality.
But her smile fades. The sounds have brought reality of the town into their sanctuary. The fantasy fades as they lock into one more passionate embrace. They pull apart, staring at each other.
Sera starts to speak and Hastos interrupts “I know. We’ve got work to do.” Sera smiles and nods then gets up and starts dressing for the day ahead of them. Hastos stays in bed and watches up until the last inch of Sera’s exposed body was clothed. And with a heavy sigh he throws the covers off.
Gently, he sets the scythe down and unwraps it without touching it.
Buckeran loves an opportunist, and perks up a bit at the offer. "I leave the scythe with you tonight. And... on second thought... the ring. But the ring is not yours to keep. It's collateral, and I have witnesses to that fact!" He points at Glynnis, Handar, and Sharn, nodding. "Ye-heh-hes I do! My request in return is that you come to me for work before you leave in the morning, and bring the ring! I have many fine bounties to be completed, and I need brave adventurers for such tasks." He takes your hand and gives it a rapid shake.
Inside the dance hall, Glynnis and Handar finish the last of their chores and retire to their own chambers. And for once all day... there is peace over Santekh
You awaken with the dawn to the sounds of horses and a murmur of bustle in the streets. The tent community is starting to stir, and workers are rising and gathering their tools for the day. A halfling woman is shouting out orders to the volunteers who are rationing out food and water to the community, and trying her best to get the people to form a line so everyone gets a fair share.
Officials are calling out job offers for workers who wish to learn how to reinforce structures and rebuild Santekh. And a few other well-armed bounty hunters (currently serving as town guards) patrol the area to keep order. The shops are also starting to open.
Slightly crestfallen at the way his interaction went with such a legend in the scavenger community, Merkas uses his staff to push the scythe back into the corner and sets his pack back on top of it, climbing up onto his gear that serves so many purposes in his life he leans back into the corner, letting it support him while he guards the scythe. Glynnis and Handar give him a questioning look as they finish up their chores and douse the lights, he waves back and says quietly"Really don't wanna leave this to chance, so I will sleep here, if I get there. Lots to think through" With that they snuff the last lantern and head for their rest while Merkas ponders the days events.
As a dawn breaks the Kender opens his eyes and chuckles to himself,"Dawnbound, guess we get that reminder everyday from now on. Hope we don't spend to much time underground where we can't get that reminder." Getting off the scythe he grabs a spare shirt to pick it up and lash it to his pack, careful to cover the entire thing, blade down into the pack, to hide it's shape in case others are looking for it. He then gets on the move to Buckeran's place, trying to tackle this problem before the others awake or it slows their departure time. (Merkas has attuned to the ring, This night during downtime he will try to simply rest though he will be thinking over all the faces he saw in town, trying to sort out how they were painted and targeted the night before. Tapping Criminal Background as a way to spot other criminals)
After asking a couple guards he gets a set of direction and raps on the collectors door"Morning Bucky, hope I'm not to early and you slept well enough"
The morning hum of the town seeped through the open window, the sound of town awake drifting in with the warm air. But in the quiet of the room, Sera barely noticed. Dancing fingertips moved over her body. A strong arm moved around her waist, pulling her back against the firm heat of his body.
She stirred slightly, only to feel his breath at the back of her neck, warm and deliberate. A lazy hand traced over her stomach, fingers brushing lower, teasing. The evidence of his desire pressed against her, making it clear he wouldn’t mind a repeat of last night’s passion.
She exhaled softly as his hand explored further, stroking sensitive places that sent a pleasant shiver through her. For a moment, she considered indulging, letting the morning slip away in pleasure before the reality of the day set in.
But duty called.
With a deep breath, she shifted in his grasp, turning onto her back to meet his gaze. His beautiful elven eyes smoldered with heat, and for a heartbeat, she almost caved. Almost.
Instead, she smirked, brushing her fingers over his jaw before pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. A promise, but not now.
She sat up, reaching for her tunic, and felt his gaze follow her every movement. There was no shyness between them anymore, no hesitation—just the shared knowledge of what had passed between them. He sighed and stretched, clearly energized despite being denied another round. She is about to speak and he interupts " I know. We’ve got work to do." and dshe nods and adds"..I enjoyed it very much..." she said with a tender voice. Then took a deep breath.
“I’ll check on Glynnis’ cart and horse,” she said as she went to the door. “Wonder if Sharn arranged for the kobold guide… And Merkas…” She let the words trail off with a chuckle. Who knew what trouble that little rascal had already found, done or borrowed?
They both knew duty called.
She slipped out of his room and into the corridor—only to be met with knowing glances from the other patrons. Some subtle, some not. The unmistakable bumping of the bed against the wall due tolast night’s activities had clearly not gone unnoticed.
Heat rose to her cheeks, but she refused to shrink under their smirks. She straightened her back and moved forward, only muttering a hasty, “Pardon,” when a particularly amused guest passed her with an exaggerated smirk.
Once inside her own room, she freshened up quickly, donning her proper traveling gear. The weight of her sword and the feel of sturdy boots on her feet grounded her. Last night had been a moment of escape, but today, reality resumed.
She made her way downstairs, hoping the scent of breakfast would be welcoming her. With any luck, Handar and Glynnis had something hearty prepared. If not the lizard stew would do—and the cart and horse would be ready. There was work to do, and she intended to face it head-on.
As a dawn breaks the Kender opens his eyes and chuckles to himself,"Dawnbound, guess we get that reminder everyday from now on. Hope we don't spend to much time underground where we can't get that reminder." Getting off the scythe he grabs a spare shirt to pick it up and lash it to his pack, careful to cover the entire thing, blade down into the pack, to hide it's shape in case others are looking for it. He then gets on the move to Buckeran's place, trying to tackle this problem before the others awake or it slows their departure time. (Merkas has attuned to the ring, This night during downtime he will try to simply rest though he will be thinking over all the faces he saw in town, trying to sort out how they were painted and targeted the night before. Tapping Criminal Background as a way to spot other criminals)
After asking a couple guards he gets a set of direction and raps on the collectors door"Morning Bucky, hope I'm not to early and you slept well enough"
Buckeran opens his office door, and perks up at the site of Merkas. "Come in! Come in! I've brewed some coffee, if you'd like some. It's a delicacy of this region, and we have to ration it, but I was certainly hoping you'd stop by, so I figured I could treat us just this once." He guides you in and you see a menagerie... both of exquisite rare artifacts, and... a pseudodragon! It perches high atop a shining adamantine gauntlet and watches you with a curious eye. It flutters its wings a bit, when the door swings wide, then settles back in. "Don't mind Jasper. She's harmless. A rare breed in these parts." Buckeran's voice switches to baby talk, "and she's shuch a shweet bwaby, isn't she?" He says, looking at Jasper with loving eyes. Any dragon would be envious of this horde. Magic items and relics of all forms of rarity sit on trophy stands on shelves and display sconces. Some are encased in cages that throb with a magical energy. There are also lock boxes and chests for presumably even more powerful artifacts. His desk is small, suited to his size, and highly mechanical in design, with hidden compartments, special tools for examining and studying items, and a map of Krynn pasted down that stretches across its width. He toddles over to the glass percolator and pours two delicate looking cups, painting in gnomish designs. "I acquired this from a travelling band of tinker gnome merchants back in my glory days. I'd never seen glass before that day, and thought it would be worth a fortune." He laughs heartily at himself. "Few people see the value in things that shatter so easily, but it's served me well over the decades."
He opens a jar and presents you a strange brown bulb. "I don't have much food. But I have konjac root. It helps suppress the appetite until we can get a shipment of supplies in. The Hachakee grow it. Not much flavor, but it gets the job done. Want one?"
Back at the Laughing Dwarf Dance Hall with Hastos and Sera...
You make your way downstairs, to a once-again empty dance hall. Handar is doing his best with meager supplies. But thanks to the water you made last night, the stew is brothier, and he's mixing up dough to make fresh flatbread. He greets you with a friendly wave. "G'mornin'! Glynnis is out back settin' up the horses fer ye. Come, come! Have a seat! Ye want water, tea, coffee? Thanks to yer barrel o' water spell ye cast, we got enough to serve sumpin' up nice today. Get ye properly fixed up afore yer big trip."
He notices only the two of you, and looks a bit confused. "Where's Merkas and that other fella... Shawn, was it? Ya know, the dwarf what talks about stars and dirt."
Finally stopping to listen to what Buckeran has to say, he closes his mouth, accepting the coffee and konjac root. “A psuedodragon? Wow! It’s nice to meet you Jasper” Sipping at the drink he looks around the room, every time he made a pass he found something new he wanted to ask about, the sheer volume of questions kept his mouth from forming complete sentences. “You have..is that…where’d you…four, no five…huh?” After slowly spinning on the spot a few times he finally stops to look at the archivist“Oh, right, the scythe and ring. I looked over the ring and decided that it would be fine to keep it in exchange for the scythe, as long as the collateral with the scythe is a friendly working relationship.” Setting the pack down as he talks he pulls the wrapped weapon out and sets it across the desk/counter“I don’t think I am at a place to keep something like this under control right now but I will keep your advice in mind.” Opening the clothes wrapped around it and sitting back he continues“We’re heading back towards where the caravan was attacked and the supplies taken, searching for some kobolds, you have a map or info of the area that can help us? Guessing we’re gonna be in some caves so some sort of light will be helpful to. Also anything in that area you may want me to watch for or bring back?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Loyalty Begets Honour
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Buckeran ignores the implied threat and bows with a flourish. "I am Buckeran! Grand Archivist of Santekh, keeper and protector of artifacts, relics, and wondrous items of mystery and power! My goal is to procure, collect, curate, and study the wonders of Khur. I have collected many such fascinating items and I delight in their study. We can learn much from marvels such as these, and that knowledge... all knowledge in fact, can only serve as a boon to our cause!" After he's finished glorifying himself, his posture relaxes a bit. He smiles in a way that is meant to be disarming, but comes across as a teensy bit condescending.
"And besides, my dear boy! If you won't sell it, and you won't touch it... what on Krynn do you intend to do with the thing? Have this young man sit on it for the rest of his natural life? If I wanted to, I could simply employ the town guards to force it from you, but we both know that would only cause a bloodbath, and I'd say you've bathed in quite enough blood for one day. And I could hardly steal it from you..." he holds up his hands with the missing fingers... "not anymore." he clarifies with a playful wink. "I'm offering you the deal of a lifetime. To be rid of something that clearly frightens you, and bring it to my archives where it can be kept safe... protected, and studied. And if there is an evil curse upon it, perhaps a way could be found to remove such evil from it, while filling your pockets with something you can use." He rubs his thumb and finger together greedily. "Coin... cold, hard, uncursed."
Kaylan shrugs. "He's... different."
Buckeran's playful bravado changes to mild offence.
"But he's trustworthy. He's one of the founding members, and he does have a knack for keeping and safely storing powerful artifacts. If you wish to see how he preserves them, he holds office in headquarters."
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
Hastos relaxes a bit. Only slightly more put at ease. “Impressive credentials.”
”I yield the decision to my friends. To sell or otherwise. They’re wiser than I am.”
Hastos looks around to each of his team members with a nod. For the first time since the attack, Hastos examines the front of his armor, the blood already drying into a thicker consistency. He examines his hands to see the blood already drying into the cracks of his hands. He looks over at Glynnis.
”Perhaps when this situation is concluded… is there a bath available?”
Character: Hastos, Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread
"Why that's an outrage! You offend me with such a high ransom! I won't pay a copper more than- wait what? This ring? For the scythe? My good man, we have a deal!!"
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
Glynnis nods and doles out 4 keys. "Water's fer drinkin' an' we ain't got much o' that. We got oil and a scouring stone ye can use ta wash up. There's coals fer the fire, an' a stove ta heat the oil. I'm sure Kaylan can take it from here."
Kaylan returns with some acolytes who cover the body in ceremonial wraps and take the corpse away. "I'm really sorry all this happened to you on my watch. I hope the rest of your night is peaceful." With that, she salutes and escorts the acolytes away.
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
Looking over the older treasure hunter Merkas starts to smile and laugh. Then in Kender speech he says jovially
After the offer he states
"That seem fair enough to you? For our future endeavours together!"
Loyalty Begets Honour
Sharn raised a finger, the deal seemingly almost done.
"My good Buckeran and Merkas, I feel like whoever becomes the owner of this weapon will be subject to a slow, horrifying and excruciating death."
The worry in his face looks legitimate, but Sharn knows that people have the freedom of choice.
"My inquiry would've been if you could destroy it. But you don't seem to wish its destruction. I can respect your curiosity, venerable kender, but I worry about your safety. If nothing else is left to be done, I can bear the curse until we can bring an end to the scythe's evil."
Sera had quickly sheathed her sword after the beheading, but the weight of her actions lingered. The others referred to him as “the poor child,” “the kid,” and guilt coiled in her chest. She took a step back, watching the commotion unfold around the dead fanatic and his cursed weapon.
The discussion shifted to what to do with the scythe. The arrival of a mature kender, Buckeran—a collector of magical artifacts and a librarian of sorts—only added to the tension. He seemed eager to take the weapon off their hands, offering a ring in trade, one that supposedly protected its wearer from mind control.
Sera folded her arms, listening as Merkas’ eyes gleamed at the mention of the ring. She finally cut in.
“Perhaps… it is not wise to trade away the one thing that protects you from its influence, Buckeran?” Her voice was calm but firm. “But a deal for something equally useful—potions, another magic item—would be smart.”
She glanced at Merkas, who looked like he already considered the ring his. Her lips curled in a teasing smirk.
“Or maybe… a rope that knots itself.”
A pointed jab at the kender’s unfortunate knot-tying skills, which had failed to keep the fanatic restrained. She looked between the two kenders, making sure they truly thought this over.
Deciding the matter was out of her hands, she shifted her focus elsewhere.
Hastos had been almsot pleading for a bath, he was blood stained and would stink even more very soon, and Glynnis’ news that there wasn’t enough drinking water made her stomach sink. It was cruel, this place—where thirst and hunger were as much an enemy as a blade.
Sera herself felt the grime on her skin, the sweat clinging to her, the stain of many days journey with dust and mules.
She exhaled and flipped over an empty barrel, repurposed as a chair, then crouched beside it. Scooping up a handful of dry sand from the floor, she mixed it with a few drops of leftover water from an abandoned cup from a nearby table. The gritty mud sat in her palm and stood next to the barrel as she closed her eyes and whispered.
“Paladine… give us water. Please.”
The moment the words left her lips, the air shifted. A sudden hush fell over the room, as if the world itself held its breath. The sand in her hands trembled, and then—like glass shattering in reverse—it melted into pure, crystal-clear liquid. It slipped between her fingers, hitting the empty barrel with a resonant splash.
Then, in an instant, a torrent of water erupted, gushing forth as if an unseen force had struck a mountain spring. The barrel filled within seconds, the water impossibly clear, impossibly fresh. The scent of morning dew and rain-soaked earth filled the air.
Sera stood, fingers still damp with the divine gift, and brushed the last of the dust from her palms.
“Let’s freshen up, get a good rest,” she said, rolling the tension from her shoulders. Then, with a steady gaze, she added, “At dawn, we set out.”
( Cast create water 2x for 20 gallons of water )
“I think this makes the most sense. I’m sorry, Merkas. But perhaps making sure the person handling the scythe has every protection will keep us from having to deal with that thing again. Potions that would help us get through our next mission might more prudent.”
Hastos watched in astonishment as Sera summoned water from what seemed to be the very air around them. The sudden existence of the water seemed to change everything about the room as if life itself breathed a sigh of relief. “Wow” is all he could bring himself to utter as he stared into the barrel. Washing blood off in it seemed somehow sacrilegious. He became embarrassed at his calloused request for a bath. Taking for granted something that’s so rare and precious to those suffering in this town.
”The blood will taint that water permanently.” Hastos carefully dips one of the mugs into the barrel and retrieves a small amount and drinks slowly. His eyes closed as he felt the water go down. After the events of the day, the water seemed to carry with it a promise.
Hastos gestures to the others “I would enjoy this precious gift. Thank you Sera.” Hastos picks up his axe, the weight of the day causing the tip to drag a moment across the floor. A slight ringing emits like a bell tolling the end of a day. He takes one of the keys. “Thank you Glynnis. I’ll go heat up the oil and see if I can get cleaned up.”
Hastos holds the key in his palm. Looking back at the group he says “I’ll be in room 3. Should anyone need me.”
Did his eyes hang on Sera a fraction longer than the others? Did the corner of his mouth smile slightly? Someone not paying close attention would easily miss the micro expressions. He made them without hope or expectation.
Hastos throws his bag over his shoulder and walks to his room to heat some oil, clean up, and get a decent nights rest.
Character: Hastos, Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread
Sera stared at the barrel, at the water that had come forth like a blessing, like a miracle. She had wanted it for drinking, for life—but washing in something so pure, so holy, felt almost improper.
Glynnis, ever practical, suggested using oil and a scouring stone instead. The alternative made sense, and Sera nodded absently—until she caught Hastos’ gaze. Or had she? It was fleeting, unreadable, gone before she could be sure.
Shaking the thought away, she turned to Handar. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around the old dwarf in a long, lingering hug. He smelled of sweat, ale, and home.
“I’ll withdraw now…” she murmured, pulling back slightly. “Verhanna mentioned a cart for retrieving the crates. Maybe it could be ready by morning?”
She glanced between him and Glynnis, feeling the weight of the day settle into her bones. When they nodded, she let go, fingers trailing for a second longer than needed, then grabbed the key to room number one.
Inside, she stripped off her gear and scrubbed away the grime with oil and a rough scouring stone. The harshness of it grounded her, stripping away sweat, blood, and the stink of the road. The herbal scent left behind was preferable, even if it could never cleanse what truly clung to her.
The room was warm, the hum of cicadas thick in the night air. Sera tossed and turned beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling, her sword hilt resting within reach. Sleep refused to take her. The battle replayed in her mind—the fanatic’s wild eyes, the way her blade had burned through flesh, the way his head had fallen.
She exhaled sharply. She didn’t want to be alone tonight.
She wanted to forget.
Throwing off the covers, she grabbed her sword, the only thing she’d never leave behind, and slipped out into the hallway, clad only in her tunic. She padded silently to room number three, hesitating only for a moment before smirking to herself.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” she whispered. “He doesn’t open, and I just continue flirting tomorrow.”
Still, she knew Hastos. He had faded during the battle, lost in old ghosts. Waking him suddenly might end with a dagger to her throat.
Better to make her presence known first.
Lifting a hand, she tapped lightly on the door.
“Hastos…?”
Her voice was just above a whisper, low and inviting. Then, after a pause—one heartbeat, two—she leaned in slightly, grinning.
“…It’s just me.”
The door opens slowly. The light from the hallway spilling slightly into the room and across Hastos’ face. He clearly had not been sleeping either. His expression was a mix of gratitude and relief. His smile was warm.
From the darkness of the room his hand reaches out, inviting her to take it and join him.
Character: Hastos, Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread
“So what you figure Bucky? My friends got a good point. If you got lots of articles that would be helpful to use we can be helpful to you.” Merkas climbs off the pack and moves it aside for the collector “I got blue chasing after artifacts myself so I know a thing or two of what to look for so you got something needing finding we can help with that, just give us first dibs and preferred prices in the future?” Reaching out a hand to shake
Loyalty Begets Honour
Buckeran winces at the name.
In kenderspeak
"I haven't been Bucky Bone Hunter in a long time, my friend. And I'm trying my best not to advertise it. But yes, that's me. Those were younger, wilder times, and the fingers lost is what I have to show for it. Well... that and my massive collection of artifacts! HA!"
He looks at the group that is clearly dragging themselves off to bed, then back to Merkas.
In kenderspeak
"Tell you what... I don't get out much these days, but I do like to hire brave adventurers such as yourselves. Bring your friends to my office at the headquarters during daylight hours. I always know where good treasure is to be found, provided I can get my cut," he says with a wink.
Merkas receives a Ring of Protection +1
With that, Buckeran shakes Merkas's hand, leaving the ring in his palm. He throws his cloak over the scythe and absconds merrily with it towards his office, humming a very joyful tune. But he stops at Sharn's warning.
Buckeran eyes the dwarf as if to size him up. "A trade has been made, and I'm rather happy with the outcome. But I understand that the scythe seems to have multiple claimers. If you are to bare the burden of this weapon, I shall require my ring back, you know."
Buckeran barely stifled a chuckle at the implication that he was unprotected. "Young lady. I assure you, this coat is more than protection enough to bring it to my office. Most everything on me wards against one thing or another. And besides, as I mentioned earlier, the scythe didn't call to me. I don't have whatever it is the scythe seeks. If I had to guess, it seeks warriors... those who are willing, and able... to kill. I am neither willing, nor able. Did you, perchance, hear its call? What did it promise you, I wander?"
Buckeran turns to the party, still holding the scythe in his cloak like a swaddled baby that's far too large for his diminutive frame. "I live to haggle, and I could do this all night. But I think, even if you wish to change your mind and reclaim the scythe, my office is the safest place to keep it for the night. I'll tell you what. I'll keep it locked in an anti-magic field chamber. If you change your mind, bring the ring back and claim it for yourself tomorrow. Cursed or not, a powerful weapon such as this could do much good in the right hands. Cursed weapons have such a terrible reputation. But cursed weapons, especially sentient ones, can be tamed. A strong will can command such a thing, knowing it will never leave the wielder's side... because it can't. That's the primary function of a curse, and quite handy if you find yourself around those who have sticky fingers." He offers a playful wink at Merkas.
"Besides, it seems you already have the most valuable treasure in town. The ability to create spring fresh water in town is a power that Santekh... indeed this whole region needs greatly." He sighs... "A pity no one has claimed my own bounty to seek a portable geyser. Must be too dangerous for most mercenaries. Ah well."
Glynnis drops her mop at the sight of the water-filled barrel and gasps... "I'll... be... damned."
Buckeran sags a little at Hastos's statement. "Unfortunately, potions are a thing I do not have to trade with. You'll have to see the witchdoctor for that." Seeing Hastos leave to his room, he considers the deal in suspense, and therefore unable to conclude. Gently, he sets the scythe down and unwraps it without touching it. "My ring, please?" He requests, looking at Merkas.
Buckeran loves an opportunist, and perks up a bit at the offer. "I leave the scythe with you tonight. And... on second thought... the ring. But the ring is not yours to keep. It's collateral, and I have witnesses to that fact!" He points at Glynnis, Handar, and Sharn, nodding. "Ye-heh-hes I do! My request in return is that you come to me for work before you leave in the morning, and bring the ring! I have many fine bounties to be completed, and I need brave adventurers for such tasks." He takes your hand and gives it a rapid shake.
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
Sharn took a deep breath and smiled. It seemed like there would be a lot to do tomorrow.
"Good Buckeran, I trust we'll be able to pick up the items tomorrow? For now, if you will be taking that scythe, please be careful and keep it secret, keep it safe."
He knocked on the floor with his staff.
"For now, I wonder if fate has changed ... I will be outside, before I turn in for the night. Good night everyone."
Sharn walked slow and precise steps to the street, and then around it. It was as if the dwarf was looking for the best patch of dirt he could find. Then, he sat cross-legged and looked up, his staff scratching gently the dirt in front of him. Tonight the stars where bright, no doubt the dirt would be just the same.
Buckeran leaves. whistling his merry tune, and the night settles in, bringing a welcome chill to the air.
Sharn can see the tent community to his left, candles, provided by the gentle and caring candlemaker of Santekh, Dana, light the community like stars. People huddle together for warmth and comfort until sleep claims them one by one.
Inside the dance hall, Glynnis and Handar finish the last of their chores and retire to their own chambers. And for once all day... there is peace over Santekh... aside from the rhythmic bumping sounds coming from room 3.
Hastos and Sera had a wonderful and rejuvenating night, and awaken with Heroic Inspiration.
You awaken with the dawn to the sounds of horses and a murmur of bustle in the streets. The tent community is starting to stir, and workers are rising and gathering their tools for the day. A halfling woman is shouting out orders to the volunteers who are rationing out food and water to the community, and trying her best to get the people to form a line so everyone gets a fair share.
Officials are calling out job offers for workers who wish to learn how to reinforce structures and rebuild Santekh. And a few other well-armed bounty hunters (currently serving as town guards) patrol the area to keep order. The shops are also starting to open.
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
(I have to assume a little but how Hastos move to make this love scene. It kinda must be a "we" point of participation here ;) Hope you forgive me MrUncleTio and DM ).
They didn’t need words. They both knew why she was here. Why she had come to him in the dead of night, barefoot and wrapped only in her tunic. The pull between them was undeniable—a desperate, unspoken need to escape. To forget.
Sera let the fabric slip from her shoulders, and it pooled at her feet as she stepped toward him, claiming his lips with a fevered hunger. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her in, their bodies pressing together, skin against skin, heat against heat. They staggered back, breathless, until the backs of his legs met the bed, and they collapsed onto it, the wooden frame creaking beneath their weight.
Like a dam breaking, everything poured out—fear, frustration, longing, the weight of war and death. She didn’t want to think. She only wanted to feel.
She moved over and lay on her back and invited him over her, needing no hesitation, no slow caress or teasing touch—just the rush of being joined with him. A gasp slipped from her lips as he connected, a quiet moan of pleasure before she caught herself, biting down on her lower lip. The windows were open, the warm night air filling the room, but the last thing she needed was the entire town hearing them.
The bed knocked against the wall with each thrust, she chuckled a bit and shared looks with Hastos. The inn would know what happen here, but she hardly cared any more. The sensation built fast, and when the release came, it left her trembling in each his arms. Breathing hard and a rush of wonderful emotions from top to toe.
With barely a moment to catch her breath, he turned her onto her hands and knees, his grip firm on her waist , this time slower, deeper. Sera let herself sink into the feeling, her fingers gripping the sheets as pleasure coursed through her.
When she finally straddled him, her hands splayed against his chest, she looked down at him, a passionate gleam in her eyes and a joyful grin. She was setting the pace now, watching as his composure unraveled beneath her. Both touching each other and moving toward the inevitable climax once more.
The moment it hit, her fingers clenched against his skin, her body arching as his name slipped from her lips in a hushed whisper. "...Hastos...." The night air was thick with the scent of sweat and herbs, the distant hum of cicadas filling the silence between their shuddering breaths.
And for a little while, there was no war. No looming battles or burdens.
Just this. Just them.
...the sound of a town outside the window awake Sera. Shouts about getting in line for water and food. Apply for work. Donkeys protesting. Children playing...
Hastos opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling of the room. The makeshift wooden beams and plaster tinted various shades after years of damage and repairs. The wooden beams looked very old and were probably beautiful in years past. The sounds of the town were beginning to fill the room. If he stayed right here, right as he lay, he could easily imagine this room being in a distant place far from the horrors waiting just outside. A place in the mountains maybe where the smell of evergreens fill the air and water ran free, cold, and clear.
Right here. Beside her. He could feel her warmth pressed next to him. The sunlight bounced off her exposed shoulder and slender neck. The intense events of the night still echo in his mind. He runs the back of his finger down the nape of her neck and over her shoulder. Down her arm to her side. He puts his hand on her side and moves it across to her stomach and pulls her close. There are parts of him that want a repeat of last night. His hands find softer areas and Sera stirs, smiling. Clearly also interested in perhaps one more round before their shared fantasy come crashing down into reality.
But her smile fades. The sounds have brought reality of the town into their sanctuary. The fantasy fades as they lock into one more passionate embrace. They pull apart, staring at each other.
Sera starts to speak and Hastos interrupts “I know. We’ve got work to do.” Sera smiles and nods then gets up and starts dressing for the day ahead of them. Hastos stays in bed and watches up until the last inch of Sera’s exposed body was clothed. And with a heavy sigh he throws the covers off.
Character: Hastos, Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread
Slightly crestfallen at the way his interaction went with such a legend in the scavenger community, Merkas uses his staff to push the scythe back into the corner and sets his pack back on top of it, climbing up onto his gear that serves so many purposes in his life he leans back into the corner, letting it support him while he guards the scythe. Glynnis and Handar give him a questioning look as they finish up their chores and douse the lights, he waves back and says quietly "Really don't wanna leave this to chance, so I will sleep here, if I get there. Lots to think through" With that they snuff the last lantern and head for their rest while Merkas ponders the days events.
As a dawn breaks the Kender opens his eyes and chuckles to himself, "Dawnbound, guess we get that reminder everyday from now on. Hope we don't spend to much time underground where we can't get that reminder." Getting off the scythe he grabs a spare shirt to pick it up and lash it to his pack, careful to cover the entire thing, blade down into the pack, to hide it's shape in case others are looking for it. He then gets on the move to Buckeran's place, trying to tackle this problem before the others awake or it slows their departure time. (Merkas has attuned to the ring, This night during downtime he will try to simply rest though he will be thinking over all the faces he saw in town, trying to sort out how they were painted and targeted the night before. Tapping Criminal Background as a way to spot other criminals)
After asking a couple guards he gets a set of direction and raps on the collectors door "Morning Bucky, hope I'm not to early and you slept well enough"
Loyalty Begets Honour
The morning hum of the town seeped through the open window, the sound of town awake drifting in with the warm air. But in the quiet of the room, Sera barely noticed. Dancing fingertips moved over her body. A strong arm moved around her waist, pulling her back against the firm heat of his body.
She stirred slightly, only to feel his breath at the back of her neck, warm and deliberate. A lazy hand traced over her stomach, fingers brushing lower, teasing. The evidence of his desire pressed against her, making it clear he wouldn’t mind a repeat of last night’s passion.
She exhaled softly as his hand explored further, stroking sensitive places that sent a pleasant shiver through her. For a moment, she considered indulging, letting the morning slip away in pleasure before the reality of the day set in.
But duty called.
With a deep breath, she shifted in his grasp, turning onto her back to meet his gaze. His beautiful elven eyes smoldered with heat, and for a heartbeat, she almost caved. Almost.
Instead, she smirked, brushing her fingers over his jaw before pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. A promise, but not now.
She sat up, reaching for her tunic, and felt his gaze follow her every movement. There was no shyness between them anymore, no hesitation—just the shared knowledge of what had passed between them. He sighed and stretched, clearly energized despite being denied another round. She is about to speak and he interupts " I know. We’ve got work to do." and dshe nods and adds"..I enjoyed it very much..." she said with a tender voice. Then took a deep breath.
“I’ll check on Glynnis’ cart and horse,” she said as she went to the door. “Wonder if Sharn arranged for the kobold guide… And Merkas…” She let the words trail off with a chuckle. Who knew what trouble that little rascal had already found, done or borrowed?
They both knew duty called.
She slipped out of his room and into the corridor—only to be met with knowing glances from the other patrons. Some subtle, some not. The unmistakable bumping of the bed against the wall due tolast night’s activities had clearly not gone unnoticed.
Heat rose to her cheeks, but she refused to shrink under their smirks. She straightened her back and moved forward, only muttering a hasty, “Pardon,” when a particularly amused guest passed her with an exaggerated smirk.
Once inside her own room, she freshened up quickly, donning her proper traveling gear. The weight of her sword and the feel of sturdy boots on her feet grounded her. Last night had been a moment of escape, but today, reality resumed.
She made her way downstairs, hoping the scent of breakfast would be welcoming her. With any luck, Handar and Glynnis had something hearty prepared. If not the lizard stew would do—and the cart and horse would be ready. There was work to do, and she intended to face it head-on.
Buckeran opens his office door, and perks up at the site of Merkas. "Come in! Come in! I've brewed some coffee, if you'd like some. It's a delicacy of this region, and we have to ration it, but I was certainly hoping you'd stop by, so I figured I could treat us just this once." He guides you in and you see a menagerie... both of exquisite rare artifacts, and... a pseudodragon! It perches high atop a shining adamantine gauntlet and watches you with a curious eye. It flutters its wings a bit, when the door swings wide, then settles back in. "Don't mind Jasper. She's harmless. A rare breed in these parts." Buckeran's voice switches to baby talk, "and she's shuch a shweet bwaby, isn't she?" He says, looking at Jasper with loving eyes. Any dragon would be envious of this horde. Magic items and relics of all forms of rarity sit on trophy stands on shelves and display sconces. Some are encased in cages that throb with a magical energy. There are also lock boxes and chests for presumably even more powerful artifacts. His desk is small, suited to his size, and highly mechanical in design, with hidden compartments, special tools for examining and studying items, and a map of Krynn pasted down that stretches across its width. He toddles over to the glass percolator and pours two delicate looking cups, painting in gnomish designs. "I acquired this from a travelling band of tinker gnome merchants back in my glory days. I'd never seen glass before that day, and thought it would be worth a fortune." He laughs heartily at himself. "Few people see the value in things that shatter so easily, but it's served me well over the decades."
He opens a jar and presents you a strange brown bulb. "I don't have much food. But I have konjac root. It helps suppress the appetite until we can get a shipment of supplies in. The Hachakee grow it. Not much flavor, but it gets the job done. Want one?"
Back at the Laughing Dwarf Dance Hall with Hastos and Sera...
You make your way downstairs, to a once-again empty dance hall. Handar is doing his best with meager supplies. But thanks to the water you made last night, the stew is brothier, and he's mixing up dough to make fresh flatbread. He greets you with a friendly wave. "G'mornin'! Glynnis is out back settin' up the horses fer ye. Come, come! Have a seat! Ye want water, tea, coffee? Thanks to yer barrel o' water spell ye cast, we got enough to serve sumpin' up nice today. Get ye properly fixed up afore yer big trip."
He notices only the two of you, and looks a bit confused. "Where's Merkas and that other fella... Shawn, was it? Ya know, the dwarf what talks about stars and dirt."
My DM Registry
My Campaigns:
Ibahalii Vriwhulth, the Reaper of Glory v2: IC Thread (PbP); Secrets of the Island (On Discord); Lost Mine of Phendelver (tabletop)
My Characters:
Krik-tul, Thri-kreen monk; Mme Cragmaw, Goblin Artificer; River Kuthraeann, Wood Elf Paladin
Finally stopping to listen to what Buckeran has to say, he closes his mouth, accepting the coffee and konjac root. “A psuedodragon? Wow! It’s nice to meet you Jasper” Sipping at the drink he looks around the room, every time he made a pass he found something new he wanted to ask about, the sheer volume of questions kept his mouth from forming complete sentences. “You have..is that…where’d you…four, no five…huh?” After slowly spinning on the spot a few times he finally stops to look at the archivist “Oh, right, the scythe and ring. I looked over the ring and decided that it would be fine to keep it in exchange for the scythe, as long as the collateral with the scythe is a friendly working relationship.” Setting the pack down as he talks he pulls the wrapped weapon out and sets it across the desk/counter “I don’t think I am at a place to keep something like this under control right now but I will keep your advice in mind.” Opening the clothes wrapped around it and sitting back he continues “We’re heading back towards where the caravan was attacked and the supplies taken, searching for some kobolds, you have a map or info of the area that can help us? Guessing we’re gonna be in some caves so some sort of light will be helpful to. Also anything in that area you may want me to watch for or bring back?”
Loyalty Begets Honour