Markus nods. "I'm not looking to rise with the sun stand sentry and patrol every day. I'm too old. But I could help with organising, recruiting, planning. Those things. You should start with some defences. Even on my old bones, if I'd wanted to walk in here unseen I could have. I announced myself at the main road because it's polite like."
Bründir gives a smile, personally relieved that he has a potential advisor rather than political rival, "Yer help is welcome. Leave yer weapons, we'll get ye settled at an inn along with a good meal, then we'll take a walk tomorrow."
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Val nods at Brundir and Hurrig, speaking quietly. "I like him! Seems like he knows what he's talking about, Sheercleft could really use someone like him helping take charge while we are gone. I know Seid will be here, but... let's be honest, he's not a warrior. This one," she gestures towards Markus. "Is a warrior. We should gather the others and maybe speak with him over dinner and a couple jugs of mead. You wanna get to know a real person? Get them drunk." She grins.
Hurrig stares at Markus long and hard, trying to get a sense of the man. Bearing a solid, straight face, the dwarf listens to Markus' story and reads over the letter. Something feels fishy about the story but Hurrig isn't one to judge about lies of omission, in Hurrig's experience the truth always comes to light eventually. "Well Brundir is right. Settle in and rest for tha day and we can talk about things tomorrow." His face softens and the friendly smile returns to Hurrigs face. "Val has the right idea, we should eat! And drink!
Pulling Brundir aside before seeing Markus to the inn, "Brundir, we've done some good things in this town. And I know there is more to come. We have some big plans in store for this town. But we need a leader, and you've got the voice. The people will listen to you." Hurrig reaches into the bag a pulls out a cloth. "I will follow you; where you may take the Acharnost and Sheercleft only Moradin knows. But I will be there, by your side, hammer at the ready." Hurrig unwraps the cloth to reveal the half-shield broach. "But every great clan and leader needs a sigil for his friends to rally behind. And now you have yours." Hurrig pins the sigil to the jacket that Brundir is wearing. Hurrig laughs, "And thats not like the mirror, I didn't make that with Moradin's blessing. Blood and sweat went into making that!"
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Bründir turns over the brooch several times, smiling and laughing through a stark loss for words. After several attempts to find proper gratitude, Bründir grabbed Hurrig with an arm and hugged him, "Ye don' know what this means fer me. Hell, ye prob'ly do since ye're from a hold. This right here," he holds the pendant between them like a treasured coin, "This will fly on banners, it'll be mounted above homes. I've never had a clan, but by Moradin I made one! Gods...I need a tailor. Shite, I'll 'ave this on all my clothes an' flyin' over my head ev'rywhere." Like a child with in a fairy tale story, Bründir clasps the brooch to his cloak and takes in the feeling of declaring himself to the world.
"So much to do...Need t'get Markus settled, an' I need t'get this town watch in order. Now I've got to see someone about embroiderin'....let's start with Markus. I want'im known to th' watch as much as me. An' we'll need a town meetin'. Best we talk this over a drink..." Bründir ushers Hurrig back into town, toward an inn for Markus to stay in. So much to do before setting off again. He figured it would be best to stay realistic. The guard, though disorganized, was not going to turn the city into a civil war. Best to take these days to make himself known to the watch.
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Thank you sir, that would be splendid." Markus thanks Hurrig. "And a drink is a good idea, it's been a tough journey." He gives Val a cheerful smile. He steps back as Hurrig and Brundir talk, averting his eyes from what is clearly a personal moment.
Hurrig seeing the excitement and speechless joy from his friend brings a warm smile to his face. “That was the idea. We can find a tailor, the Halfshield sigil should fly high above this here town. You have done so much for the people here.” Hurrig places his hands on Brundirs shoulder. “I’m off to find Vark and Jex, I will meet up with you at the tavern tonight.” With that Hurrig grabs his bag of goodies and his off to find the half elf and half orc.
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Watching the exchange between Hurrig and Brundir causes Val to smile, but a bittersweet sting pierces her as Brundir talks about having his own clan now and she cannot help to think about her own tribe... gone now, save for her... lost to the frozen wastes... The temperature around her drops as she walks along silently and suddenly sullen... She glances to Markus, a hard set in her eyes now. "Come, Markus, we shall drink. You can tell me your story while we wait for the others. You seem like a good warrior."
Markus nods. "I've seen better days for certain, but I still know a thing or two, and experience has to count for something. I've seen some things." There is a slight glint in his eye, as though the sun is reflecting on some water, but he blinks and it is gone.
Over the coming days as the Acharnost prepares for their next journey, Bründir makes it a point to tour Sheercleft and make himself known. He speaks with families working too repair their homes, craftsmen and merchants, guards in every neighborhood and district. After only a couple of short days, the dwarf found that many people were greeting him or at least giving a pleasant smile or wave as he passed. The time came for him to check in at the mines. Even though he wasn't a miner per se anymore, he was still known to the foreman. The guards in the area were also well known for going down with mining teams to sweep tunnels before digging began each day, then standing guard to make sure nothing came up.
Since Bründir spent nearly as much as a human's lifetime in those tunnels, he pleaded his case to the guard sergeant, someone he'd been told was an ambitious authoritarian. With some clever wording and a trick or two learned from Brynja about wordplay and a subtle cantrip, the dwarf secured his place as a leader of one such guard team. The found little in the two days of patrol, but he got to know many of the guards in the mine area and they even consulted him on his knowledge of the tunnels and inhabitants more than once. It wasn't any large political step, but he felt himself becoming a minor celebrity in the community.
On the sixth day since their return, Bründir checked in with the few main gates along the city perimeter. He made himself known as well as his intent to rebuild the strength of the town watch, but also that he wanted to work personally with the guards rather than be another faceless politician. Reception was not exactly warm, but his reputation of fighting in the liberation battle convinced the gate sergeants that he could handle himself with the guards. It would have to wait until his return from Khaz a Gungron.
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Hurrig sees Vark, returning to Sheercleft and runs over to him. “I have a gift for ya, boy.” Reaching into the bag he pulls out the spear head he forged. “I finished this today. That was the easy part. Putting it together will be the tough part, I’ll need Seids help making sure the magic in the staff accepts this blade.”
After flourishing the blade a little, he turns toward the half-orc. “I know we give ya a hard time over this whole Matthew thing… we’re really just trying to look out for ya. I know what it feels like to be told what to do with ya life. But we have to forge our own paths.” He points to the runes along the blade, “Path Maker. Go and make your own path Vark, don’t let the others tell you what to do.” Hurrig taps his temple, “Though use your head, you’ve got a good one on those shoulders. If you have sound logic when you explain something to the group when you make a decision, I will stand by you a hundred parcent
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Thurston spends the next week working hard at the forge with Hurrig and learning as much as he can about the dwarven techniques with the alloys, the forge and the anvil.
The rest of his time he spends teaching the guard how to fight, how to form and behave like a coherent unit. He always teach them shirtless, as they used to do in his homeland, and after the first day he understood that training almost naked in the open field, with the cold mountain wind around them, is not for everyone, so he allow them to keep their clothes.
He did everything he asked them to do, every mile ran, every push up, every exercise. Soon, the figure of the big human, running shirtless in front of the guard members on training that day were knonw by the whole settlement. The fourth day, some of the boldest members ran shirtless too. The guard started to call themselves "The Naked Guard". Thurston smiled, that kind of things, that created a bond between the men and make them proud is what they needed to act as a unit.
On the last day of training a new rite of passage were set. In order to be able to part of the guard of Sheercleft, the new candidate had to complete a whole training circuit with only a pair of boots and their pants on. Thurston, blushing and completely red, ordered to two women candidates to put something on to cover their femenine attributes. Laughing they use some clothes to bandage their breast and ran shirtless too.
Far from looking a position at the chain of command, Thurston found himself treated as a well respected captain, even if he was a little bit oblivious of that.
Already riding a high from his successful experimentation, the sudden appearance of Hurrig bearing gifts makes Vark even more elated. One hand runs through his hair and his eyes go wide at the sight of the blade. “Oh my- H-h-hurrig this is... this is amazing!” It seems like the young man might tear up, but instead he throws his arms around the dwarf and brings him in for a warm hug. “Thank you... really I mean it, this is so cool!” He grins as he inspects the craftsmanship and the runes. “Path Maker”, he echoes softly to himself. “I’ll... I’ll go grab Seid and see what he thinks, and we can come by the forge later.”
Here he was, the day before the Archarnost planned to leave for Khaz a Gungron, and Bründir was mounting up with an official guard patrol. The territory was a relatively familiar stretch of mountain pass, and was to be traversed by horseback. A half-dozen guards plus a sergeant set out, each more formidably armed than anyone within Sheercleft. The dangers of a patrol were much greater, so extra armor and weaponry were given accordingly. The newer watchmen were armed with spears, shields, and mail shirts. Two were given light crossbows rather than spears. In addition, everyone carried a war axe except the sergeant who wore a broadsword. Bründir didn't entirely stand out as half the newer riders were dwarves as well, but quality of the bard's armour and shield made him stand out from the rest.
Less than five miles out from the city gates, the patrol was moving through a pass which rose up a short cliff face on the right. The road wound along the cliff to the right and overlooked a short drop on the opposite side. As they rounded to the end of the curve, a strange sight came into view: An overturned wagon with a plume of smoke billowing from one side. The obstacle came upon them too quickly for lengthy inspection, but luckily they could immediately see it was empty with no nearby owners. The sergeant gave an order for the watchmen to move the wagon to the side. Bründir, however wondered how and why someone would take their entire wagon's goods but leave the vehicle behind. Even overturned or damaged, it was still expensive property to go without. "Sergeant, I think it's best if we move slower an' keep two fer road watchin'. Seen a few ambushes 'round here all start with bein' too focused on somethin'." The sergeant, a young and headstrong soldier, was quick to dismiss the dwarf saying that more hands on the obstacle would clear it before an ambush could be sprung. Sadly, it was also apparent that he didn't know how heavy an upside-down wagon was, even for a team.
The guards had decided among themselves to pivot the wagon so it didn't immediately block the whole road, then deal with flipping or moving it to the side. In his youthful impatience, the sergeant ordered them to leave the abandoned vehicle as there was enough space to drive another through without leaving the road. While some may grumble about doing a job with half of one's ass, the order to do less work was gratefully received. However as the Sergeant moved to the obstacle, he felt a sudden impact that nearly unseated him. The blow hit him in the back over his left shoulder blade. It struck with such force that he lurched over and gasped for breath while wheeling his steed around. Bründir had watched from behind and pinpointed the shooter on the cliff above. The dwarf caught a glimpse of a furry head, but the shouting gave them away even more.
A large bush just off the road erupted as a trio of short, vicious green savages charged for two of the guards mounting their horses. One steed panicked and ran for home before the guard could get on, and the other threw its rider before following the first. The fall was bad as the human landed high on his back and didn't move. The other stayed close to protect the fallen and swept his spear to stay the charge. The other four guards were moving fast to join the fight when a warcry went up in Goblin from above. A hobgoblin in ragged mail waved a bow alongside a pair of bugbears. The small goblins below scattered to surround the guards and keep them apart. When Bründir had made it halfway to them, another trio of cretins joined the fray as well. In a heartbeat, everyone was engaged, the Sergeant had felled a goblin and was fending off another, but still had not fully recovered from the initial arrow from above. The bugbears and hobgoblin fired from above and wounded two of the guards, but not well enough to take them from the fight. The whole thing made Bründir laugh. The called out in Dwarvish, "Run back t'yer holes! Run t'where th' smallest light'll ne'er find ye!" The Dwarven guards responded in kind with shouts of anger. The Bard came crashing into goblin bodies opposite an attempt at forming a shield wall in the heat of battle. His adamantium shield slammed a goblin in the back, but Dumdrengi missed its mark. However it provided all the opening needed for a spear punch squarely through the goblin's chest.
The goblins' confidence was bolstered by their ambush, but momentum was fading quickly. Even as fairly green recruits, the armoured guards were more than a match for the goblins in single combat. Several of the guards had traded spears for axes to better fend off the little cretins and a semi-circle perimeter was formed around the unconscious guard. In a moment, the Sergeant was clearly more lucid and he cleaved his remaining goblin across the shoulder. With a shriek, it ducked low to avoid a reversed follow-up swing and scampered off down the path. The Sergeant took stock as he moved to rejoin the others, "We need to get out! Those who can, get moving!"
Bründir was visibly stunned by the command given, "Yer daft! Ye've got one down an' pushin' back!" the few remaining goblins were quickly faltering and the two guards with crossbows took places behind their shielded comrades. Another volley of arrows fell and two caught Bründir in the back. Luckily, Elven steel and thick fur was plenty to dampen the blows. In response, he swung around and threw his shield, Karakarin. The disc caught a bugbear in the arm, causing it to drop its bow momentarily. "Shoot them down, damnit! Sergeant, protect yer man!" The mystical shield returned to the dwarf's hand and he took his position between two Dwarven guards with Humans behind forming a double-rank phalanx. It only took a moment before another goblin was struck down, another was gravely injured while retreating, and the last got away.
Despite his questionable previous order, the Sergeant saw the odds in favor of him men. He barked to two of the shield guards who took up their fallen comrade and quickly carried them away toward town. The crossbowmen fired at the archers above, one landing a bolt in a bugbear's thigh. Bründir threw his shield once more and it ricocheted off the other bugbear's shoulder. The dwarf caught the shield once more and barked to those around, "Fall back slow. No one gets shot in th' back." Anther volley from the goblinoids found only wood and metal and the guards stayed defended. The crossbows returned a volley which felled a bugbear and caused the hobgoblin to call retreat to the other. Once the guards were covered from a possible feint above, they regrouped and found their horses. The injured guard was still unconscious, but laid across the saddle with another for support. In half an hour, they arrived back at Sheercleft's gate. The unconscious guard woke up on the way but was in no condition to ride alone.
The few wounded guards were dismissed to a healer nearby upon arrival and Bründir insisted on a meeting with the patrol sergeant. The brash youth complained of goblin trickery, untrained soldiers, and pure luck. The only response he received was a hard punch to the stomach and a verbal tirade the likes of which he'd not seen since he was under the Drillmaster's care. "Ye made a shit call an' let yer guard down. Don' ever think ye just happened into a shit place. It's a good chance ye fumbled yerself into it an' were too blind t'see. Fer th' next month, patrols go out twice as much an' with twice as many. More crossbows, too, those things saved us. Those boys deserve a drink, a meal, an' a bonus, an' I think you're gonna give it to'em." The dwarf fished out a handful of golden coins from his belt, then two more handfuls. He counted them out, five coins in six stacks. "One fer a meal, one fer drinks, one fer hazards, one fer findin' goblins...an' one from me. Come on, I'm makin' sure ye show thanks." Bründir escorted the sergeant from the gatehouse and to the healer's abode. Within, four of the six guards were being treated, the one thrown from their horse was asleep in bed, the others were bandaged and dressing. The dwarf introduced himself once again, thanked them all for their hard work, and invited them to Ringrut's for a free round of drinks.
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Seid glanced across the small workspace at Hurrig, sweat already starting to bead upon his brow in the sweltering heat of the forge room. He holds the shaft of the Skybinder staff, his fingers working across the glowing runes as his eyes glow faintly with a bluish, eldritch glow from the spell cast upon him by Hurrig... His enchanted mind helped him spot the slight falter in the enchantment just as Hurrig was attaching the spearhead before the began to blend in the magics. "Hurrig... wait... Vark, there. I need you to fix the conflux there. The angle is wrong... Do you see it? Yes, there. Can you---HA! Well done, Vark! Continue, Hurrig." The dwarven forge master slowly, carefully whittled away small portions of the staff as Vark and Seid rolled back the enchantments away from the section Hurrig was working to prevent the disruption of the entire process.
Seid gritted his teeth and sweat continued to roll down his forehead and sting his eyes, but his focus was solely upon holding the enchantments which constantly strained and fought against his meddling. "Hurrig, quickly now... this process is taxing." The dwarf glances up to see the strain upon Seid's face and smiles as he reaches over to place a hand upon the young human's shoulder.
"Moradin be with ya, lad. Hold fast, my work is almost done." Seid felt a strange sense of reassurance and refocused his efforts, which seemed to come from Hurrig's guidance. With a few more expert strokes of his lathe the last shaving was completed. "We're almost there, Seid, just a moment longer." Vark passes the spearhead to Hurrig who expertly attaches the beautiful piece to the shaved staff with a grunt of effort. "Now Seid, place it upon the anvil so I can hammer in the pin. Careful now... Careful..."
Seid felt the jolt of magic exploding up his forearms with each strike of the hammer, his knees buckling slightly. Vark rushes over and works his hands over Seid's to help share the burden of holding back the enchantments and Seid lets out an audible sigh at the relief of the stress. "Thank you, Vark, I thought I was going to lose it there for a moment." The last strike of the hammer upon the pin, followed by the pinning and the dwarf's work was done. The next step was the slow reversal of the enchantment stripping and blending of the new piece into the overall work of the weapon. "All three of us, working together, we should be able to do this. Vark, you should attune yourself with the weapon while I roll the enchants back down the shaft, and Hurrig... you will guide the magics into your work. You are most familiar with it, I feel it will follow your lead better than mine." It was a slow, excruciatingly detailed process, but as each glowing rune flared back to life down the shaft of the spear the strain became less and less until finally it was the spearhead. "Hurrig, are you ready? Take control of the process, I'll slowly release the tension to you. Are you ready? Okay, I feel your grasp... slowly now... slowly... perfect. Prepare yourself, I'm going to release my hold entirely now." There was a spark of arcane light and a flare of the runes as Hurrig gently guided the enchantments into his work... and then with a swirl of wind the enchantment completes! The whirling wind was welcome in the stifling forge as Vark takes control of his weapon once more!
Vark works alongside Seid and Hurrig, grimacing with the magical strain and smiling with each little victory. As his hands work in tandem with the wizard's little red sparks emit from Vark's fingertips. These increase as he is instructed to attune to the weapon and he allows his own energy to merge with the enchantment. The glowing electricity crackles up and down the wood, and then along the edge of the blade as it joins the weapon. Vark's grin splits even wider as the trio is greeted with a burst of wind marking a successful melding. The sorcerer takes his new Skyblinder Spear in his hands and gives it a spin. "This is amazing! Th-thank you guys! This... it'll definitely come in handy."
Over the course of the next few days, Hurrig works hard at the forge, smithing new weapons for Jex and armour for Vark. Under the guiding hand of the Acharnost, life is slowly returning to Sheercleft. The mines have reopened. The common folk are going about their daily business once more. The guard is gradually being reorganised into a more concerted force. Nevertheless, there is still a sense of uncertainty in the air. Nobody knows what exactly the future of the village is to be, and unease hangs over the village like an eagle waiting to strike.
Once all their preparations are complete, Bründir, Hurrig, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark meet by the northern gate at first light, ready to take the High Road to Khaz a Grungron.
With the morning, Bründir comes to the gate to meet with his companions. He's brought along his trusty crossbow this time and lays it atop Jex's wagon with a full quiver beside. As the rest convene, he approaches Jex and Valaith specifically, "Ye both got yer bows still, right? Best keep'em handy. Patrolled with some lads yesterday an' hit a nasty ambush. Made it out alright with a few scratches and a bad knock on one's head, but it's where we can't just stroll through. When we get back, I'll need to see about gettin' more patrols out 'ere. Hell, I'll lead'em myself if I need to."
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Jex splits his next few days, establishing Markus within the village, speaking with Brundir to discuss tactical defenses of the village, meeting the guards, training with Thurston and drinking in the inn. The evenings, after the old man is taken to bed, resting his old bones, Jex spends time learning dwarven with the orphans, making sure they are cared for and educated. He oversees construction of his new base of operations, and holds secret meetings with the kobolds, practicing his Draconic, and having them help with designing the secret passages and traps within his hideout. He is tired from having to force so much time between both people, but has a sense of satisfaction in the way things are progressing. As he goes to sleep the night before departure a message appears above his bed as he lies down with a fizzing sound as it materialises. He jumps, reaching for his blade, before he realises it is the communication he had been waiting for, one of the many at least, though he had expected it to be sent by messenger, he realised that was probably foolish of him. He snatches the parchment from the air, reads it quickly and thrusts it into his cloak.
As he gathers with the others in the morning, he nods at Brundir's question. "Always, I would not be without bow and blade, now more so thanks to my friends here." He grins at Hurrig and Thurston as he locks his scimitars in place on his back and twitches the spring loaded daggers on his wrists. They flick out with a satisfying swish and clink of the locking mechanism before sliding back into place stiffly and popping as they lock below the plane of the runner. "Now there is another task I must undertake on this journey. We ride far and frequently and with heavy burden, and truthfully it si too much for my poor mule. I asked Lord Keltin to make introduction to a breeder, and he wrote back to me yesterday inviting me to his home in the Skymark Reaches near Cavaroc. He should be able to fit me with goats like those of Thor, but it will be a week's journey in both directions."
Vark stands next to the wagon looking antsy but optimistic. He occasionally tugs or shifts a strap or plate on his new armor. The protection has been layered over his wool garments, and the familiar grey-blue shawl is wrapped over his shoulders. All the new visual changes are subtle individually, but together the armor, shining spear, and red streaks reveal the transformation that Vark has undergone during this period in Sheercleft. He's no longer the dreadfully timid boy the others had first met in Ringrut's. He'd always been curious, but now there are so many things at stake which rely on him learning and exploring. He'd always had a sense of right and wrong, but now he's begun developing his own code of ethics, and is clearly ready to defend it. Already his expanded magical abilities have impressed himself and some of his friends, but he still feels like he needs to prove himself. He's felt this drive before, but he's never felt up to the challenge until now. As they make the final preparations to leave Vark looks back into town, and his thoughts drift to his newest, and dearest, friend. It feels odd to leave Seid behind after all they have just been through, but the thought that the wizard will be there waiting when they return is comforting. For the first time, Sheercleft feels a little bit like a home.
Markus nods. "I'm not looking to rise with the sun stand sentry and patrol every day. I'm too old. But I could help with organising, recruiting, planning. Those things. You should start with some defences. Even on my old bones, if I'd wanted to walk in here unseen I could have. I announced myself at the main road because it's polite like."
Bründir gives a smile, personally relieved that he has a potential advisor rather than political rival, "Yer help is welcome. Leave yer weapons, we'll get ye settled at an inn along with a good meal, then we'll take a walk tomorrow."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Val nods at Brundir and Hurrig, speaking quietly. "I like him! Seems like he knows what he's talking about, Sheercleft could really use someone like him helping take charge while we are gone. I know Seid will be here, but... let's be honest, he's not a warrior. This one," she gestures towards Markus. "Is a warrior. We should gather the others and maybe speak with him over dinner and a couple jugs of mead. You wanna get to know a real person? Get them drunk." She grins.
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
Hurrig stares at Markus long and hard, trying to get a sense of the man. Bearing a solid, straight face, the dwarf listens to Markus' story and reads over the letter. Something feels fishy about the story but Hurrig isn't one to judge about lies of omission, in Hurrig's experience the truth always comes to light eventually. "Well Brundir is right. Settle in and rest for tha day and we can talk about things tomorrow." His face softens and the friendly smile returns to Hurrigs face. "Val has the right idea, we should eat! And drink!
Pulling Brundir aside before seeing Markus to the inn, "Brundir, we've done some good things in this town. And I know there is more to come. We have some big plans in store for this town. But we need a leader, and you've got the voice. The people will listen to you." Hurrig reaches into the bag a pulls out a cloth. "I will follow you; where you may take the Acharnost and Sheercleft only Moradin knows. But I will be there, by your side, hammer at the ready." Hurrig unwraps the cloth to reveal the half-shield broach. "But every great clan and leader needs a sigil for his friends to rally behind. And now you have yours." Hurrig pins the sigil to the jacket that Brundir is wearing. Hurrig laughs, "And thats not like the mirror, I didn't make that with Moradin's blessing. Blood and sweat went into making that!"
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
Bründir turns over the brooch several times, smiling and laughing through a stark loss for words. After several attempts to find proper gratitude, Bründir grabbed Hurrig with an arm and hugged him, "Ye don' know what this means fer me. Hell, ye prob'ly do since ye're from a hold. This right here," he holds the pendant between them like a treasured coin, "This will fly on banners, it'll be mounted above homes. I've never had a clan, but by Moradin I made one! Gods...I need a tailor. Shite, I'll 'ave this on all my clothes an' flyin' over my head ev'rywhere." Like a child with in a fairy tale story, Bründir clasps the brooch to his cloak and takes in the feeling of declaring himself to the world.
"So much to do...Need t'get Markus settled, an' I need t'get this town watch in order. Now I've got to see someone about embroiderin'....let's start with Markus. I want'im known to th' watch as much as me. An' we'll need a town meetin'. Best we talk this over a drink..." Bründir ushers Hurrig back into town, toward an inn for Markus to stay in. So much to do before setting off again. He figured it would be best to stay realistic. The guard, though disorganized, was not going to turn the city into a civil war. Best to take these days to make himself known to the watch.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Thank you sir, that would be splendid." Markus thanks Hurrig. "And a drink is a good idea, it's been a tough journey." He gives Val a cheerful smile. He steps back as Hurrig and Brundir talk, averting his eyes from what is clearly a personal moment.
Hurrig seeing the excitement and speechless joy from his friend brings a warm smile to his face. “That was the idea. We can find a tailor, the Halfshield sigil should fly high above this here town. You have done so much for the people here.” Hurrig places his hands on Brundirs shoulder. “I’m off to find Vark and Jex, I will meet up with you at the tavern tonight.” With that Hurrig grabs his bag of goodies and his off to find the half elf and half orc.
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
Watching the exchange between Hurrig and Brundir causes Val to smile, but a bittersweet sting pierces her as Brundir talks about having his own clan now and she cannot help to think about her own tribe... gone now, save for her... lost to the frozen wastes... The temperature around her drops as she walks along silently and suddenly sullen... She glances to Markus, a hard set in her eyes now. "Come, Markus, we shall drink. You can tell me your story while we wait for the others. You seem like a good warrior."
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
Markus nods. "I've seen better days for certain, but I still know a thing or two, and experience has to count for something. I've seen some things." There is a slight glint in his eye, as though the sun is reflecting on some water, but he blinks and it is gone.
Over the coming days as the Acharnost prepares for their next journey, Bründir makes it a point to tour Sheercleft and make himself known. He speaks with families working too repair their homes, craftsmen and merchants, guards in every neighborhood and district. After only a couple of short days, the dwarf found that many people were greeting him or at least giving a pleasant smile or wave as he passed. The time came for him to check in at the mines. Even though he wasn't a miner per se anymore, he was still known to the foreman. The guards in the area were also well known for going down with mining teams to sweep tunnels before digging began each day, then standing guard to make sure nothing came up.
Since Bründir spent nearly as much as a human's lifetime in those tunnels, he pleaded his case to the guard sergeant, someone he'd been told was an ambitious authoritarian. With some clever wording and a trick or two learned from Brynja about wordplay and a subtle cantrip, the dwarf secured his place as a leader of one such guard team. The found little in the two days of patrol, but he got to know many of the guards in the mine area and they even consulted him on his knowledge of the tunnels and inhabitants more than once. It wasn't any large political step, but he felt himself becoming a minor celebrity in the community.
On the sixth day since their return, Bründir checked in with the few main gates along the city perimeter. He made himself known as well as his intent to rebuild the strength of the town watch, but also that he wanted to work personally with the guards rather than be another faceless politician. Reception was not exactly warm, but his reputation of fighting in the liberation battle convinced the gate sergeants that he could handle himself with the guards. It would have to wait until his return from Khaz a Gungron.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Hurrig sees Vark, returning to Sheercleft and runs over to him. “I have a gift for ya, boy.” Reaching into the bag he pulls out the spear head he forged. “I finished this today. That was the easy part. Putting it together will be the tough part, I’ll need Seids help making sure the magic in the staff accepts this blade.”
After flourishing the blade a little, he turns toward the half-orc. “I know we give ya a hard time over this whole Matthew thing… we’re really just trying to look out for ya. I know what it feels like to be told what to do with ya life. But we have to forge our own paths.” He points to the runes along the blade, “Path Maker. Go and make your own path Vark, don’t let the others tell you what to do.” Hurrig taps his temple, “Though use your head, you’ve got a good one on those shoulders. If you have sound logic when you explain something to the group when you make a decision, I will stand by you a hundred parcent
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
Thurston spends the next week working hard at the forge with Hurrig and learning as much as he can about the dwarven techniques with the alloys, the forge and the anvil.
The rest of his time he spends teaching the guard how to fight, how to form and behave like a coherent unit. He always teach them shirtless, as they used to do in his homeland, and after the first day he understood that training almost naked in the open field, with the cold mountain wind around them, is not for everyone, so he allow them to keep their clothes.
He did everything he asked them to do, every mile ran, every push up, every exercise. Soon, the figure of the big human, running shirtless in front of the guard members on training that day were knonw by the whole settlement. The fourth day, some of the boldest members ran shirtless too. The guard started to call themselves "The Naked Guard". Thurston smiled, that kind of things, that created a bond between the men and make them proud is what they needed to act as a unit.
On the last day of training a new rite of passage were set. In order to be able to part of the guard of Sheercleft, the new candidate had to complete a whole training circuit with only a pair of boots and their pants on. Thurston, blushing and completely red, ordered to two women candidates to put something on to cover their femenine attributes. Laughing they use some clothes to bandage their breast and ran shirtless too.
Far from looking a position at the chain of command, Thurston found himself treated as a well respected captain, even if he was a little bit oblivious of that.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Already riding a high from his successful experimentation, the sudden appearance of Hurrig bearing gifts makes Vark even more elated. One hand runs through his hair and his eyes go wide at the sight of the blade. “Oh my- H-h-hurrig this is... this is amazing!” It seems like the young man might tear up, but instead he throws his arms around the dwarf and brings him in for a warm hug. “Thank you... really I mean it, this is so cool!” He grins as he inspects the craftsmanship and the runes. “Path Maker”, he echoes softly to himself. “I’ll... I’ll go grab Seid and see what he thinks, and we can come by the forge later.”
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Here he was, the day before the Archarnost planned to leave for Khaz a Gungron, and Bründir was mounting up with an official guard patrol. The territory was a relatively familiar stretch of mountain pass, and was to be traversed by horseback. A half-dozen guards plus a sergeant set out, each more formidably armed than anyone within Sheercleft. The dangers of a patrol were much greater, so extra armor and weaponry were given accordingly. The newer watchmen were armed with spears, shields, and mail shirts. Two were given light crossbows rather than spears. In addition, everyone carried a war axe except the sergeant who wore a broadsword. Bründir didn't entirely stand out as half the newer riders were dwarves as well, but quality of the bard's armour and shield made him stand out from the rest.
Less than five miles out from the city gates, the patrol was moving through a pass which rose up a short cliff face on the right. The road wound along the cliff to the right and overlooked a short drop on the opposite side. As they rounded to the end of the curve, a strange sight came into view: An overturned wagon with a plume of smoke billowing from one side. The obstacle came upon them too quickly for lengthy inspection, but luckily they could immediately see it was empty with no nearby owners. The sergeant gave an order for the watchmen to move the wagon to the side. Bründir, however wondered how and why someone would take their entire wagon's goods but leave the vehicle behind. Even overturned or damaged, it was still expensive property to go without. "Sergeant, I think it's best if we move slower an' keep two fer road watchin'. Seen a few ambushes 'round here all start with bein' too focused on somethin'." The sergeant, a young and headstrong soldier, was quick to dismiss the dwarf saying that more hands on the obstacle would clear it before an ambush could be sprung. Sadly, it was also apparent that he didn't know how heavy an upside-down wagon was, even for a team.
The guards had decided among themselves to pivot the wagon so it didn't immediately block the whole road, then deal with flipping or moving it to the side. In his youthful impatience, the sergeant ordered them to leave the abandoned vehicle as there was enough space to drive another through without leaving the road. While some may grumble about doing a job with half of one's ass, the order to do less work was gratefully received. However as the Sergeant moved to the obstacle, he felt a sudden impact that nearly unseated him. The blow hit him in the back over his left shoulder blade. It struck with such force that he lurched over and gasped for breath while wheeling his steed around. Bründir had watched from behind and pinpointed the shooter on the cliff above. The dwarf caught a glimpse of a furry head, but the shouting gave them away even more.
A large bush just off the road erupted as a trio of short, vicious green savages charged for two of the guards mounting their horses. One steed panicked and ran for home before the guard could get on, and the other threw its rider before following the first. The fall was bad as the human landed high on his back and didn't move. The other stayed close to protect the fallen and swept his spear to stay the charge. The other four guards were moving fast to join the fight when a warcry went up in Goblin from above. A hobgoblin in ragged mail waved a bow alongside a pair of bugbears. The small goblins below scattered to surround the guards and keep them apart. When Bründir had made it halfway to them, another trio of cretins joined the fray as well. In a heartbeat, everyone was engaged, the Sergeant had felled a goblin and was fending off another, but still had not fully recovered from the initial arrow from above. The bugbears and hobgoblin fired from above and wounded two of the guards, but not well enough to take them from the fight. The whole thing made Bründir laugh. The called out in Dwarvish, "Run back t'yer holes! Run t'where th' smallest light'll ne'er find ye!" The Dwarven guards responded in kind with shouts of anger. The Bard came crashing into goblin bodies opposite an attempt at forming a shield wall in the heat of battle. His adamantium shield slammed a goblin in the back, but Dumdrengi missed its mark. However it provided all the opening needed for a spear punch squarely through the goblin's chest.
The goblins' confidence was bolstered by their ambush, but momentum was fading quickly. Even as fairly green recruits, the armoured guards were more than a match for the goblins in single combat. Several of the guards had traded spears for axes to better fend off the little cretins and a semi-circle perimeter was formed around the unconscious guard. In a moment, the Sergeant was clearly more lucid and he cleaved his remaining goblin across the shoulder. With a shriek, it ducked low to avoid a reversed follow-up swing and scampered off down the path. The Sergeant took stock as he moved to rejoin the others, "We need to get out! Those who can, get moving!"
Bründir was visibly stunned by the command given, "Yer daft! Ye've got one down an' pushin' back!" the few remaining goblins were quickly faltering and the two guards with crossbows took places behind their shielded comrades. Another volley of arrows fell and two caught Bründir in the back. Luckily, Elven steel and thick fur was plenty to dampen the blows. In response, he swung around and threw his shield, Karakarin. The disc caught a bugbear in the arm, causing it to drop its bow momentarily. "Shoot them down, damnit! Sergeant, protect yer man!" The mystical shield returned to the dwarf's hand and he took his position between two Dwarven guards with Humans behind forming a double-rank phalanx. It only took a moment before another goblin was struck down, another was gravely injured while retreating, and the last got away.
Despite his questionable previous order, the Sergeant saw the odds in favor of him men. He barked to two of the shield guards who took up their fallen comrade and quickly carried them away toward town. The crossbowmen fired at the archers above, one landing a bolt in a bugbear's thigh. Bründir threw his shield once more and it ricocheted off the other bugbear's shoulder. The dwarf caught the shield once more and barked to those around, "Fall back slow. No one gets shot in th' back." Anther volley from the goblinoids found only wood and metal and the guards stayed defended. The crossbows returned a volley which felled a bugbear and caused the hobgoblin to call retreat to the other. Once the guards were covered from a possible feint above, they regrouped and found their horses. The injured guard was still unconscious, but laid across the saddle with another for support. In half an hour, they arrived back at Sheercleft's gate. The unconscious guard woke up on the way but was in no condition to ride alone.
The few wounded guards were dismissed to a healer nearby upon arrival and Bründir insisted on a meeting with the patrol sergeant. The brash youth complained of goblin trickery, untrained soldiers, and pure luck. The only response he received was a hard punch to the stomach and a verbal tirade the likes of which he'd not seen since he was under the Drillmaster's care. "Ye made a shit call an' let yer guard down. Don' ever think ye just happened into a shit place. It's a good chance ye fumbled yerself into it an' were too blind t'see. Fer th' next month, patrols go out twice as much an' with twice as many. More crossbows, too, those things saved us. Those boys deserve a drink, a meal, an' a bonus, an' I think you're gonna give it to'em." The dwarf fished out a handful of golden coins from his belt, then two more handfuls. He counted them out, five coins in six stacks. "One fer a meal, one fer drinks, one fer hazards, one fer findin' goblins...an' one from me. Come on, I'm makin' sure ye show thanks." Bründir escorted the sergeant from the gatehouse and to the healer's abode. Within, four of the six guards were being treated, the one thrown from their horse was asleep in bed, the others were bandaged and dressing. The dwarf introduced himself once again, thanked them all for their hard work, and invited them to Ringrut's for a free round of drinks.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Seid glanced across the small workspace at Hurrig, sweat already starting to bead upon his brow in the sweltering heat of the forge room. He holds the shaft of the Skybinder staff, his fingers working across the glowing runes as his eyes glow faintly with a bluish, eldritch glow from the spell cast upon him by Hurrig... His enchanted mind helped him spot the slight falter in the enchantment just as Hurrig was attaching the spearhead before the began to blend in the magics. "Hurrig... wait... Vark, there. I need you to fix the conflux there. The angle is wrong... Do you see it? Yes, there. Can you---HA! Well done, Vark! Continue, Hurrig." The dwarven forge master slowly, carefully whittled away small portions of the staff as Vark and Seid rolled back the enchantments away from the section Hurrig was working to prevent the disruption of the entire process.
Seid gritted his teeth and sweat continued to roll down his forehead and sting his eyes, but his focus was solely upon holding the enchantments which constantly strained and fought against his meddling. "Hurrig, quickly now... this process is taxing." The dwarf glances up to see the strain upon Seid's face and smiles as he reaches over to place a hand upon the young human's shoulder.
"Moradin be with ya, lad. Hold fast, my work is almost done." Seid felt a strange sense of reassurance and refocused his efforts, which seemed to come from Hurrig's guidance. With a few more expert strokes of his lathe the last shaving was completed. "We're almost there, Seid, just a moment longer." Vark passes the spearhead to Hurrig who expertly attaches the beautiful piece to the shaved staff with a grunt of effort. "Now Seid, place it upon the anvil so I can hammer in the pin. Careful now... Careful..."
Seid felt the jolt of magic exploding up his forearms with each strike of the hammer, his knees buckling slightly. Vark rushes over and works his hands over Seid's to help share the burden of holding back the enchantments and Seid lets out an audible sigh at the relief of the stress. "Thank you, Vark, I thought I was going to lose it there for a moment." The last strike of the hammer upon the pin, followed by the pinning and the dwarf's work was done. The next step was the slow reversal of the enchantment stripping and blending of the new piece into the overall work of the weapon. "All three of us, working together, we should be able to do this. Vark, you should attune yourself with the weapon while I roll the enchants back down the shaft, and Hurrig... you will guide the magics into your work. You are most familiar with it, I feel it will follow your lead better than mine." It was a slow, excruciatingly detailed process, but as each glowing rune flared back to life down the shaft of the spear the strain became less and less until finally it was the spearhead. "Hurrig, are you ready? Take control of the process, I'll slowly release the tension to you. Are you ready? Okay, I feel your grasp... slowly now... slowly... perfect. Prepare yourself, I'm going to release my hold entirely now." There was a spark of arcane light and a flare of the runes as Hurrig gently guided the enchantments into his work... and then with a swirl of wind the enchantment completes! The whirling wind was welcome in the stifling forge as Vark takes control of his weapon once more!
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
Vark works alongside Seid and Hurrig, grimacing with the magical strain and smiling with each little victory. As his hands work in tandem with the wizard's little red sparks emit from Vark's fingertips. These increase as he is instructed to attune to the weapon and he allows his own energy to merge with the enchantment. The glowing electricity crackles up and down the wood, and then along the edge of the blade as it joins the weapon. Vark's grin splits even wider as the trio is greeted with a burst of wind marking a successful melding. The sorcerer takes his new Skyblinder Spear in his hands and gives it a spin. "This is amazing! Th-thank you guys! This... it'll definitely come in handy."
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Over the course of the next few days, Hurrig works hard at the forge, smithing new weapons for Jex and armour for Vark. Under the guiding hand of the Acharnost, life is slowly returning to Sheercleft. The mines have reopened. The common folk are going about their daily business once more. The guard is gradually being reorganised into a more concerted force. Nevertheless, there is still a sense of uncertainty in the air. Nobody knows what exactly the future of the village is to be, and unease hangs over the village like an eagle waiting to strike.
Once all their preparations are complete, Bründir, Hurrig, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark meet by the northern gate at first light, ready to take the High Road to Khaz a Grungron.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
With the morning, Bründir comes to the gate to meet with his companions. He's brought along his trusty crossbow this time and lays it atop Jex's wagon with a full quiver beside. As the rest convene, he approaches Jex and Valaith specifically, "Ye both got yer bows still, right? Best keep'em handy. Patrolled with some lads yesterday an' hit a nasty ambush. Made it out alright with a few scratches and a bad knock on one's head, but it's where we can't just stroll through. When we get back, I'll need to see about gettin' more patrols out 'ere. Hell, I'll lead'em myself if I need to."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Jex splits his next few days, establishing Markus within the village, speaking with Brundir to discuss tactical defenses of the village, meeting the guards, training with Thurston and drinking in the inn. The evenings, after the old man is taken to bed, resting his old bones, Jex spends time learning dwarven with the orphans, making sure they are cared for and educated. He oversees construction of his new base of operations, and holds secret meetings with the kobolds, practicing his Draconic, and having them help with designing the secret passages and traps within his hideout. He is tired from having to force so much time between both people, but has a sense of satisfaction in the way things are progressing. As he goes to sleep the night before departure a message appears above his bed as he lies down with a fizzing sound as it materialises. He jumps, reaching for his blade, before he realises it is the communication he had been waiting for, one of the many at least, though he had expected it to be sent by messenger, he realised that was probably foolish of him. He snatches the parchment from the air, reads it quickly and thrusts it into his cloak.
As he gathers with the others in the morning, he nods at Brundir's question. "Always, I would not be without bow and blade, now more so thanks to my friends here." He grins at Hurrig and Thurston as he locks his scimitars in place on his back and twitches the spring loaded daggers on his wrists. They flick out with a satisfying swish and clink of the locking mechanism before sliding back into place stiffly and popping as they lock below the plane of the runner. "Now there is another task I must undertake on this journey. We ride far and frequently and with heavy burden, and truthfully it si too much for my poor mule. I asked Lord Keltin to make introduction to a breeder, and he wrote back to me yesterday inviting me to his home in the Skymark Reaches near Cavaroc. He should be able to fit me with goats like those of Thor, but it will be a week's journey in both directions."
Vark stands next to the wagon looking antsy but optimistic. He occasionally tugs or shifts a strap or plate on his new armor. The protection has been layered over his wool garments, and the familiar grey-blue shawl is wrapped over his shoulders. All the new visual changes are subtle individually, but together the armor, shining spear, and red streaks reveal the transformation that Vark has undergone during this period in Sheercleft. He's no longer the dreadfully timid boy the others had first met in Ringrut's. He'd always been curious, but now there are so many things at stake which rely on him learning and exploring. He'd always had a sense of right and wrong, but now he's begun developing his own code of ethics, and is clearly ready to defend it. Already his expanded magical abilities have impressed himself and some of his friends, but he still feels like he needs to prove himself. He's felt this drive before, but he's never felt up to the challenge until now. As they make the final preparations to leave Vark looks back into town, and his thoughts drift to his newest, and dearest, friend. It feels odd to leave Seid behind after all they have just been through, but the thought that the wizard will be there waiting when they return is comforting. For the first time, Sheercleft feels a little bit like a home.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger