Vark flinches at Matthew's sudden appearance realizing maybe he should have gone somewhere more private. "Well I... it just seemed the quickest option. Anyway, yes the sigil was left down there, but now its gone. I thought maybe Jex or the kobolds had seen it but they haven't, and the kobolds said that you were the only one they've seen go down there alone." Vark looks at the fiend expectantly, but with no accusation. It seems quite possible that Matthew may have borrowed the sigil, but there shouldn't be any reason not to give it back.
"They did, did they?" Matthew asks in amusement, dissolving into red smoke, only to reappear behind Vark. "I must say, I'm not especially used to having to walk anywhere. Red clothing is just so popular, isn't it? I see that you too have changed your colours," he notes, gesturing to Vark's royal blue Mabinogi robe.
Vark pulls his father’s cloak a little tighter around him as if to protect himself from the devil’s gaze. “Do you have any idea where it is or not?” he presses on through Matthew’s deflections. “If you don’t… well can you help me find it? It can’t have gone too far…”
"At, the innocence of youth. Would I that that were true, but no. I have reason to believe that it has been whisked away to a Sarameian dungeon, where it now resides in the hands of a coven of occultists. I believe that they call themselves the 99 Hundred."
The remaining journey to Khaz a Gungron lacked the nostalgia of the beginning for Brundir, largely because he’d been wracked with fever and concussed beyond his senses for most of the time. Even as they made their final approach to the gates of the great city, it was vague at best but completely alien in most cases. Still, he rode his great boar with confidence as he addressed the gate guards, “I’m Brundir Halfshield, claimed an’ appointed ruler of Sheercleft an’ Representative fer th’ Archarnost.” The guards gave an understandably confused look as this one before them was nothing like the one they remember.
The guards gave skeptical looks and a few uncertain glances before one stepped within the gatehouse to check with a superior. A different dwarf emerged, however, and greeted Brundir with the recognition of a true lord, “Master Halfshield! Pleasure t’see ye ‘roun Khaz a Gungron. Ye look better’n last time.” Despite the terrible pain from the last time at the gates, Brundir found some recollection.
“Hey! Ulgar, was it? Sorry if I don’ remember much. I’s a bit knocked about last time.”
“Ye looked like ye slept tied t’yer wagon’s wheel last time!” The ranger shared a laugh with Brundir then waved the caravan in. He directed the Sheercleft entourage to a staging area where their wagons would be kept safe and horses could be tended, then personally led them through the city.
In short time, they were joined by ornately armoured sentries in a great hall. At the hall’s end, before a great pair of mastferfully worked metal doors. The doors opened, and the Sheercleft expedition was immediately surrounded by a squad of shimmering guardsmen. The dwarves led the city’s guests through a pillar-lined hall to a raised throne upon which a regal dwarf sat with thinly-veiled excitement. “Brundir Halfshield of the Archarnost! I welcome you, and your companions, back to Khaz a Gungron. What brings you to our home once again?” Thane Forgekeeper had apparently been relayed a message of the sudden arrival
The last time Brundir stood here, he’d been supported across most of the journey, still beaten from but proud. He remembered a distinct mingling of pride and bitterness then. Now, he felt tempered, like a chunk of iron that’s seen the cast of a master smith. In his resplendent armour, Brundir kneeled before the Forgemaster. Unsurprisingly, the others from Sheercleft followed suit as most had never been in such a presence. “Thane Forgemaster, it does me well n’ good t’see ye again. Thanks t’yer fine artisans, I can see twice as well as I did when ye saw me last.” The dwarf made a slight show holding a hand under his false eye. A little flattery never hurt, right? “I’d like t’say I’m ‘ere fer thanks an’ all, but our business is a bit more grim. A Breannian noble’s marchin’ his army fer Sheercleft, an’ he means t’take it back fer his own.”
“Sorry t’say lad, but Sheercleft’s always been that way. Breannian territory since it started, trade agreement with us n’ Khaz Kadrin.” The Thane seemed to have more to say on the matter, but stopped himself short.
Brundir smiled, as though he were an old man besting a friend at a game, “That’s where my friends come in. Before ye stands clan leaders, merchants, miners, an' artisans o' Sheercleft. These're th' whole city practic'ly here at yer feet, and we've come t'say we're on out own now. We haven't forgotten friends, though. Khaz a Gungron's been like family fer years, an' we intend t'keep it that way."
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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
"Wh-what?" Varks asks, his shoulders slumping as his body deflates. "How... how did it get to Sarameia? And what do these 99 people wants with it? How am I gonna get to Sarameia?" The weight of this revelation hits him like an avalanche. Perhaps if he had known all along that he needed to journey into the desert to find the key to Aury's prison then the task would not seem so insurmountable, but having thought that the sigil was so close only to be proven drastically wrong shatters the boy. "That's so far away... what if I can't convince the others to come with me?"
Vark lets out a sigh heavy with frustration. “Okay.” Of course, he just has to do what the devil wants and all his problems will go away. He still hasn’t really pitched the most recent quest that Matthew has bestowed upon him to the rest of the Acharnost yet. Perhaps knowing that Aureaonus’ freedom depends on Vark stealing the Sigil of Fire from a dragon for his fiendish patron would convince the others to help. More likely they would berate him for once again relying so heavily on Matthew’s power. His eyes bore holes into the ground as these thoughts turn in his head. “I… I guess we have to focus on Sheercleft now anyway. Then… then I’ll figure it out. Thanks.” he says, not turning back to his patron before beginning to walk away.
Bründir successfully convinces Thane Forgekeeper to provide military aid to Sheercleft, then returns to Sheercleft.
Thane Forgekeeper leaned back in his seat and stroked his beard a few times over. After a short contemplation, he pressed the younger dwarf a bit further, “And who’ll lead an independent Sheercleft? D’ye have a king ye found under a stone?”
Brundir grinned at the challenges. After all, he’d spent the trip anxiously preparing for the scrutiny of a proper lord to challenge his claim, “That’d be me, Thane. While I don’ carry a title - yet - I’ve been called up by most o’Sheercleft t’lead. Knowin’ they’ve got somebody from home, and an Archarnost t’boot, it’s given’em confidence in me. That, an’ I’ve got Dumdrengi, Blade o’ High King Erik Spangelhelm. Th’ Allfather passed it t’me fer a reason, an’ seems it’s fer Sheercleft’s protection.”
The Thane was clearly amused by the response, if not approving, “An’ who’re ye ag’in, o Titleless Lord? A hundred clans sit in our rec’rds, an’ that’s just what ye can touch from th’ door. Who’s this, then, who so boldly claims unknown clan, unknown name, an’ a seemingly stolen mining town?”
This was a bit unexpected, now. Brundir thought the conversation was amiable the whole way through, but the Thane seemed to be mocking him now. Could support be waning so quickly? Suddenly, a voice spoke up over his shoulder. “Thane Forgekeeper, if I may?” It was Vargrin Cragjaw, an old son of a clan leader, and heir to be the third leader of his line in Sheercleft. “Halfshield’s a new name, yes, not yet carved in any stone ‘r hist’ry. But he’s good stock, Thane. His mother, Brynja, came north from Khaz Kadrin an’ left a clan that’s seen half a dozen elders live an’ pass. His father, stone keep’im, was a Hammer, an’ fought with Brynja fer years ‘fore they settled down.” The clan heir’s testament was a shock for Brundir, both in his sudden outburst as well as his knowledge of the matter. Brundir new there would have to be several drinks for this one after, and probably just as many stories. Turning back to the Thane, Brundir pulled himself up in his regal armour.
“What’s a man if his word’s no good? Cragjaw’s’ve been in Sheercleft almost since it’s start. I hold him an’ his name in high regard. I’m one an’ only t’my clan name, but I come with three artifacts of our people as sign of my worth. My name, an’ my clan, will live on as leader o’ Sheercleft, however long ‘r short that’ll be. I want ye t’know, great Thane, that this isn’t an upstart beggin’ favor. If I didn’ have a tall **** marchin’ up my mountains in less’n a fortnight, we’d be doin’ same fer Khaz Kadrin an’ th’ elves o’ Hyranatar.” Brundir took a step forward and unsling Karakarin from his back. He brandished its face to the Thane, then pulled Dumdrengi forward as much as his belt would allow. “Soul-Forger as my witness, blessed in yer own keep, I stand fer my home an’ fer my people. If ye want some cultist Breannian bastard fer a neighbor sellin’ ye ore, be my guest. But jus’ know ye left these splendid works in ‘is hands, too, an’ more trouble’ll come if I die.
If the Thane appeared unconvinced before, it was visibly dispelled now. He rose and slowly descended from the raised dais of his throne. Several other regal dwarves moves from the flanks to join at his side where they stopped just paces away from their guests. “Brundir Halfshield, formerly-clanless miner, veteran of war, hero, now clan-founder and lord-aspirant of yer own home. This is one I’d happily see rise. My scribe’ll start a plaque in their annals fer Clan Halfshield, even if it only carries a single name. Much’s I’d want it, we can’t give ye Khaz a Gungron’s whole army. If yer bitter on it, in time I’m sure ye’ll understand. I can, however, give ye plenty fer th’ job. Come, we’ll meet with my commanders an’ work out details. Yer friends an’ neighbors ‘ere are my guests, too. They can stay t’ discuss trade an’ such, then return safely when they like.” Thane Forgekeeper led Brundir and a few of the Naked Guard down a side passage where they entered a large, octagonal room adorned with maps on every wall and a large central table.
The day passed with planning, negotiations, and even a few rounds of fine drinks among allies. Khaz a Gungron’s own elders, priests, and commanders came and went. By mid-morning the next day, Brundir emerged from Khaz a Gungron astride Stonebrow once more. This time, however, a proud-looking armoured dwarf riding his own gigantic boar rode beside him. Captain Ironheel was his name, and behind him marched a hundred dwarves so heavily armed they seemed to be animated statues carved from marble. These were a century of a legion dubbed “The Stone Wall”. Captain Ironheel boasted they had stood ground against all manner of evil and hatred, but no one in history could claim any ground taken from where they planted their lines. Thane Forgekeeper kept his word - he couldn’t provide many, but what they lacked in numbers would be made up threefold in quality.
The trip to Sheercleft, while not any different than the last few times, had never felt so profound. Brundir felt like a great general marching to war. The travel was much slower now, since the attache was marching on foot heavily armed. In the nights they spent afield, the young dwarf sat enraptured at gathering fires soaking in the stories of combat and glory from each of the soldiers. Try as he might, he couldn’t help staring like a child at each of the grizzled veterans. Captain Ironheel was a fountain of inspiration and lessons during the march as well. While they rode, Brundir pried into every story and battle for teachings on the ways of proper battlefield command.
Finally, the reinforcements arrived. Riders met them when the town was within sight, and Brundir could make out construction works underway from half a mile out. Entering the gates, the force was met with looks of awe and wonder that he remembered from his first return from Khaz a Gungron. Several town guards shouted praise and thanks for the dwarves’ aid. The Stone Walls were consolidated near the barracks, then Captain Ironheel was given a brief tour of the town. He would see to his own, but Brundir was happy to offer Sheercleft’s hospitality to them while they stayed. Brundir’s only request was that Captain Ironheel offer the expertise of his soldiers in working with the Sheercleft guard to prepare them for the fight to come. Once the tenant force began settling in, Brundir set off to find his comrades to deliver the good news and see where they stood on preparations.
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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
Dawn was still 2 hours away when the girl woke Nakia from her sleep.
“Ma’am, the scouts have sighted a wagon on the road from the west. It doesn’t look like a soldier, but they fear a spy.”
Nakia rubs her eyes, the Kobold scouts still had not returned, but they did not expect the army to arrive for at least another day or two.
“It must be him, wake the archanosi, we will need to discuss the action to take with him quickly. Have another draw him a bath and prepare a meal, he will be tired from the road but I fear we may not let him rest.”
Internally she breathes a sigh of relief, she had feared the battle would be upon them before her prized asset returned, she felt much more confident of what was to come with him on the field. She dresses quickly and heads to the temple, saying her prayers, unrushed and quiet, lighting the candle she heads for the gate. By now the dust from hooves and wheel can be seen and the hulk of the wagon grows as it lumbers forward. Guards have gathered and a few curious and concerned villagers who have somehow heard the news even at this hour.
“Lower your weapons.” She instructs authoritatively, “Do you not recognize one of your own liberators? Open the gate and guide him through the defences.”
She climbs down from the wall, even as the others approach and passes through the gate herself to meet him, she holds up an arm in greeting as he comes into full view. “Jex! I have missed you, you had better have good reason for abandoning me so in such trying times!” She grins, but the smile fades as her greeting is not returned. She almost reaches for a weapon until she sees his face beneath the hood. Eyes sunken and tired, face pale, even for him. He pulls back the hood, though still sits quietly a while. His usual black armour is nowhere to be seen beneath the elven cloak, instead he wears a simple grey tunic of wool. The blades are not strapped across his chest, side back, hip or anywhere in sight, a single dagger sits at his hip, Thurston recognizes it instantly as the gift he gave, but the hilt has been strapped and bound tightly around the scabbard in a knot that would not come undone easily. Across the half-elf’s lap lies a long wooden stick and a blunt wooden handle sits at his other side. Nakia cocks her head to the side in a half grin, used to his games she probes him again. “Very funny Jex, but I am afraid now is not the time, Sheercleft is about to come under attack.” His eyes darken, concern flashes across his face, but when his voice answers it is hoarse, cracking under a weight of dryness of one who has not drunk properly all day.
“Jex? No.” He shakes his head. His ears are somehow longer and his sunken, weary face enhances his elven features even further giving him almost the appearance of a full elf. “I am no longer to go by that name. That… Killer… Was a murderer, a thief and a liar.” His eyes go dark, haunted as his mind drifts elsewhere.
An arrow thuds into the side of the wagon beside Jex.
“And now you are distracted, how foolish. Val would never have missed that coming. Without them to protect you, you will likely die here now. How could you have thought it was you who might offer any protection to them?” The voice drips with venom, the tired half-elf almost falls from his seat atop the wagon as visions flash around him, but it all goes white and then dark. Moments later he looks around at the horrific scene before him. A tear drips down his face, followed by another as he looks upon the ground around him. His bow falls to the floor and the bloody dagger clatters against a stone as it falls from his other hand and he drops to his knees and wails into the empty sky.
“What have you done now? How could you? Are you even alive?” A different voice now, younger, sorrowful, elven. “You have lost your right, let me have you.”
Nakia’s eyes narrow. “Now is not the time, we know you are a killer, and we need your skills. Now snap out of it and come inside and help. Stop making a scene.” Jex turns, a tear forming in his eye.
“I go by Matteo now. And I am no killer.” He replies firmly, dismounting the wagon and walking past her. Nakia holds her arms up in despair and looks at the others helplessly. The being formerly known as Jex gives a sad smile to his friends. “I have missed you all, and I am sorry that I may not do as you had hoped, but really, you never needed me anyway, I have come to accept that.”
They never needed you, the voice echoes again in the rogues mind, dragging him back to his first day on the road from the fortress.
I need to get back soon. They will need me before they continue.
“Need you? Hahahaha” The voice echoes from behind, startling the rogue.
It’s in my head, just shut it out. Still, he draws his bow closer and spurs the mule on. He rides through the day, stopping only when the heavy steps of the beast begin o drag and he knows it can go no further today. He focuses his mind on the excitement of the task ahead of him.
Thurston’s face when he sees them!
“Sees you, you mean! He’ll have forgotten you. He can wield the power of the skies!”
No, he needs me, what if Matthew comes.
“And what? You’d bounce those flimsy knives from the back of a devil. The gods you fight with have no need of your mortal abilities.”
No
He shuts it out and tries to sleep, focusing his mind on the small fire he had allowed himself, he pulls the mask on tighter in the hopes that the voice will forget him.
Thurston was awake and working, digging in the hard mud, getting ready the city defenses when he hears some disturbance at the main gate. Wondering what it could be, for it cannot be the coming of the army, he paces towards it, trying to get rid of some mud of his bare chest, without much success.
He finally arrives when the former Jex is standing and getting off the wagon,talking some nonsense with that girl from the orphanage. Thurston demeneaor changes from happy to worried as he hears his friend refering to himself by other name. He takes a step forward.
"Jex my friend!! "he says approaching, trying to get a direct eye contact with him "You have been truly missed, but I am happy that you have come back. Come with me " he passes his big arm around the half-elf shoulders, but anyone who knows the Norscan sees that he does gently, instead of enthusiastically has he usually does, almost as if he was afraid of broken his old friend's bones. "You arrive just in time for breakfast. You always had a talent to be at the nick of time where you are needed. I must tell you... you know I love the young Vark and old Bründir, but another meal with them talking about history and witchcraft with Seid and my brain is going to explode. Come Come... "as he talks he tries to get Jex out of the center of attention and towards the inn and makes sure that someone takes care of the mule and the wagon "Tell me everything about your journey. I want to know every detail. The Saga of Jex the Invincible cannot be tell with blanks on it... can it? "
He looks over his shoulder to Nakia, asking her silently to come with them.
"My dear Thurston," Jex returns the embrace and allows the huge Norscan to lead him inside. "I fear the entire tale of Jex should be untold. Especially the tale of this journey." He scratches at the dirt beneath his cracked and bloody nails as he speaks.
The moon peaks through the clouds as the half-elf kneels over seven small mounds of dirt. Tears mix with the dry mountain earth as he sits a moment later seemingly mumbling in argument with himself before rising and pulling off his armour.
"I hope that Matteo will not make the same mistakes, and that he can write a history worth telling. I got you a gift though." He smiles. "The whole journey was not all better forgotten, Jex met with a final success, he requested four fine goats, fit for Thor himself, two will fly us as though trampelling the bridge to Asgard, and the other two though not so gifted will also make fine steeds." He pats Thurston on the back. "Though even those shall not be ready until a year has passed." Jex had intended to keep the beasts a surprise so that he could play a prank in exchanging between the flying onesand the regular but it seems Matteo has no such desire. "Now what is this trouble you find yourselves in?"
"Why do you say that? His tale is a tale worth be recounting! and be sang across all the lands!"as they walk Thurston looks really worried to his friend, even if he is trying that Jex doesn't notice. What could had happen? wonders the Norscan.
"You"he says to a youngling nearby "Go and fetch the other Arcanost. Tell them to join us. Quickly now boy!"he says to him
As he opens the door of the tavern and let Jex go first, he reaches out to his divine senses to see if there is anything devilrish in work here.
"What are you talking about friend? Flying goats? like Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjróstr? That would be amazing! Only a year?" it is obvious that he thinks that the goats comes from the same place of all this Matteo nonsense.
"We are about to be attacked by the army of a puny noble... but we will get to that in due time... now seat seat... let us drink together as we used to. We do no wait for the others to come, they will have to catch up with us eh?"
Jex pats the Norscan on the arm. "You are kind, but if you only knew, you would not think so well of him. I will drink with you, though I might make for unhappy company. Tell me of the noble. They are usually ones for talk, perhaps this attack is a political manouvre?"
"Oh they do not want to talk. It's a revenge, a movement to stablish the Maginobi once again in Sheercleft, disguised of a political maneuver." he takes a sip " But you see, we are using that in our advantage. We have reached our allies for help. The elves has sent cavalry, and Bründir is now Lord of Sheercleft and we are under the protection of the dwarf Thane. So we only need to stand our ground and force them to recognize our independence. The bastards... they have hired gnolls mercenaries and their army is led by a zealot who seems to be committed to our death. Well, he will soon learn that we are not easily undone eh? "he offers his mug to his friend.
"But enough of that for the moment. You are right. I do not know what could had possibly had happened to you in your journey. And it seems to be a dreadful tale. If you do not wish to talk about it now I will not push it but I will tell you what do I know. I know that our friend is always there for those who might need him. He could try to hide it behind a cloak of pragmatism and coldness, but my friend doesn't hesitate to risk his own life to stand against those who want to crush the innocent and the helpless. When I was thinking on celebrating after a hard battle, my friend was already working to ensure that no orphan children spent a night on their own under the stars, providing a refugee to them, and didn0t waste time to begin working on the future of this community, reestablishing the trade routes, which had been a success if you don't know. My brother was quick to laugh and always pushed me to look farther than my nose or my drink, so to speak, and kept me humble and sharp. He had taught me that the way to victory is not always a straight path charging across the battlefield and that a good teamwork is even better than a butthead.
So yes. Now that my brother is back at my side I will celebrate it and he will always have me to face anything or anyone."
Matteo raises an eyebrow at mention of the wizard cult again, he had assumed like the others that once the devil was released that there was no reason for them to want the town. An emotion and energy that had seemed drained from him flashes across his face as he takes the cup offered to him and sips gently from it. Nakia leans in enthusiastically.
"See, this man must be removed to save Sheercleft, the peaceful town we all live in." It looks as though something is tearing at the former assassin but his face settles quickly back to its tired, sad expression.
He sits up as Thurston continues though. Tears full his eyes as Thurston speaks of his deeds in Sheercleft but the pain looks as much disbelief as anything. He collects himself though.
"And how fares the orphanage and the trade centre? Is the temple complete? I would visit when we are done here."
A runner came to spread word of Jex's return, and that was all a certain dwarf needed to charge across Sheercleft to meet him. Bründir sauntered into the tavern, quickly finding where the trio were seated, then making a small ruckus in the approach. Since his return from Khaz a Gungron, it was rare to see Bründir without Dumdrengi and at least one of his fine dwarven artifacts. Today, he wore Karakalad, the stout armour gifted from Hurrig. Splendid as it was, the armour was not fit for casual wear about town, and Bründir found the extra bulk cumbersome. Still, he wore it proud like a badge of office.
Once seated, he waved over for another round of drinks, despite one already present. "Jex, welcome back, good t'see ye an' all that. How'd it go, what'd ye get up to, ye look like shit, we're not far from tits-up here. That about covers basics, yeah?" After Bründir's initial slew of questions, he looks over Jex with a smile and sees only a barren wasteland of drained emotion and energy. The dwarf's smile quickly faded, "Shit, man....what happened? Ye don' look like shit, ye look like a whole damn pit of shit set on fire. Spill. What happened out there?"
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
"The temple is mostly complete," Aiden says as he enters the tavern and overhears the conversation. He raises an eyebrow at Jex's clothing and demeanor. The half-elf seemed to be a completely different person than the one that had left Sheercleft a mere few weeks earlier. He moves to sit and waves over another tankard of ale. "Welcome back, Jex," he says, waiting for the rogue's answer to Bründir's question.
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Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Aiden Olrikson | Human | Tempest Domain Cleric of Thor
"Jex is no more." He gives Brundir a sad smile. "I have decided to put the ways of murder and lies behind me in search of less harmful pursuits. I am Matteo now. But I have secured the goats as planned. Four beasts infact, two to fly and two less gifted. Now I am here to hear about this nobleman who threatens the town."
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Vark flinches at Matthew's sudden appearance realizing maybe he should have gone somewhere more private. "Well I... it just seemed the quickest option. Anyway, yes the sigil was left down there, but now its gone. I thought maybe Jex or the kobolds had seen it but they haven't, and the kobolds said that you were the only one they've seen go down there alone." Vark looks at the fiend expectantly, but with no accusation. It seems quite possible that Matthew may have borrowed the sigil, but there shouldn't be any reason not to give it back.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
"They did, did they?" Matthew asks in amusement, dissolving into red smoke, only to reappear behind Vark. "I must say, I'm not especially used to having to walk anywhere. Red clothing is just so popular, isn't it? I see that you too have changed your colours," he notes, gesturing to Vark's royal blue Mabinogi robe.
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
Vark pulls his father’s cloak a little tighter around him as if to protect himself from the devil’s gaze. “Do you have any idea where it is or not?” he presses on through Matthew’s deflections. “If you don’t… well can you help me find it? It can’t have gone too far…”
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Matthew barks a laugh.
"At, the innocence of youth. Would I that that were true, but no. I have reason to believe that it has been whisked away to a Sarameian dungeon, where it now resides in the hands of a coven of occultists. I believe that they call themselves the 99 Hundred."
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
The remaining journey to Khaz a Gungron lacked the nostalgia of the beginning for Brundir, largely because he’d been wracked with fever and concussed beyond his senses for most of the time. Even as they made their final approach to the gates of the great city, it was vague at best but completely alien in most cases. Still, he rode his great boar with confidence as he addressed the gate guards, “I’m Brundir Halfshield, claimed an’ appointed ruler of Sheercleft an’ Representative fer th’ Archarnost.” The guards gave an understandably confused look as this one before them was nothing like the one they remember.
The guards gave skeptical looks and a few uncertain glances before one stepped within the gatehouse to check with a superior. A different dwarf emerged, however, and greeted Brundir with the recognition of a true lord, “Master Halfshield! Pleasure t’see ye ‘roun Khaz a Gungron. Ye look better’n last time.” Despite the terrible pain from the last time at the gates, Brundir found some recollection.
“Hey! Ulgar, was it? Sorry if I don’ remember much. I’s a bit knocked about last time.”
“Ye looked like ye slept tied t’yer wagon’s wheel last time!” The ranger shared a laugh with Brundir then waved the caravan in. He directed the Sheercleft entourage to a staging area where their wagons would be kept safe and horses could be tended, then personally led them through the city.
In short time, they were joined by ornately armoured sentries in a great hall. At the hall’s end, before a great pair of mastferfully worked metal doors. The doors opened, and the Sheercleft expedition was immediately surrounded by a squad of shimmering guardsmen. The dwarves led the city’s guests through a pillar-lined hall to a raised throne upon which a regal dwarf sat with thinly-veiled excitement. “Brundir Halfshield of the Archarnost! I welcome you, and your companions, back to Khaz a Gungron. What brings you to our home once again?” Thane Forgekeeper had apparently been relayed a message of the sudden arrival
The last time Brundir stood here, he’d been supported across most of the journey, still beaten from but proud. He remembered a distinct mingling of pride and bitterness then. Now, he felt tempered, like a chunk of iron that’s seen the cast of a master smith. In his resplendent armour, Brundir kneeled before the Forgemaster. Unsurprisingly, the others from Sheercleft followed suit as most had never been in such a presence. “Thane Forgemaster, it does me well n’ good t’see ye again. Thanks t’yer fine artisans, I can see twice as well as I did when ye saw me last.” The dwarf made a slight show holding a hand under his false eye. A little flattery never hurt, right? “I’d like t’say I’m ‘ere fer thanks an’ all, but our business is a bit more grim. A Breannian noble’s marchin’ his army fer Sheercleft, an’ he means t’take it back fer his own.”
“Sorry t’say lad, but Sheercleft’s always been that way. Breannian territory since it started, trade agreement with us n’ Khaz Kadrin.” The Thane seemed to have more to say on the matter, but stopped himself short.
Brundir smiled, as though he were an old man besting a friend at a game, “That’s where my friends come in. Before ye stands clan leaders, merchants, miners, an' artisans o' Sheercleft. These're th' whole city practic'ly here at yer feet, and we've come t'say we're on out own now. We haven't forgotten friends, though. Khaz a Gungron's been like family fer years, an' we intend t'keep it that way."
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
"Wh-what?" Varks asks, his shoulders slumping as his body deflates. "How... how did it get to Sarameia? And what do these 99 people wants with it? How am I gonna get to Sarameia?" The weight of this revelation hits him like an avalanche. Perhaps if he had known all along that he needed to journey into the desert to find the key to Aury's prison then the task would not seem so insurmountable, but having thought that the sigil was so close only to be proven drastically wrong shatters the boy. "That's so far away... what if I can't convince the others to come with me?"
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
"I think that you've more than proven your ability to solve problems by yourself," Matthew remarks. "You conquered Endel Fjell, did you not?"
The devil watches Vark contemplatively for a long moment.
"I can provide you with the means to quickly travel to Beschcadik, but you must bring the sigil of fire with you. Do you understand?"
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
Vark lets out a sigh heavy with frustration. “Okay.” Of course, he just has to do what the devil wants and all his problems will go away. He still hasn’t really pitched the most recent quest that Matthew has bestowed upon him to the rest of the Acharnost yet. Perhaps knowing that Aureaonus’ freedom depends on Vark stealing the Sigil of Fire from a dragon for his fiendish patron would convince the others to help. More likely they would berate him for once again relying so heavily on Matthew’s power. His eyes bore holes into the ground as these thoughts turn in his head. “I… I guess we have to focus on Sheercleft now anyway. Then… then I’ll figure it out. Thanks.” he says, not turning back to his patron before beginning to walk away.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
The air behind Vark shimmers and Matthew dissolves into red smoke once more.
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
Bründir successfully convinces Thane Forgekeeper to provide military aid to Sheercleft, then returns to Sheercleft.
Thane Forgekeeper leaned back in his seat and stroked his beard a few times over. After a short contemplation, he pressed the younger dwarf a bit further, “And who’ll lead an independent Sheercleft? D’ye have a king ye found under a stone?”
Brundir grinned at the challenges. After all, he’d spent the trip anxiously preparing for the scrutiny of a proper lord to challenge his claim, “That’d be me, Thane. While I don’ carry a title - yet - I’ve been called up by most o’Sheercleft t’lead. Knowin’ they’ve got somebody from home, and an Archarnost t’boot, it’s given’em confidence in me. That, an’ I’ve got Dumdrengi, Blade o’ High King Erik Spangelhelm. Th’ Allfather passed it t’me fer a reason, an’ seems it’s fer Sheercleft’s protection.”
The Thane was clearly amused by the response, if not approving, “An’ who’re ye ag’in, o Titleless Lord? A hundred clans sit in our rec’rds, an’ that’s just what ye can touch from th’ door. Who’s this, then, who so boldly claims unknown clan, unknown name, an’ a seemingly stolen mining town?”
This was a bit unexpected, now. Brundir thought the conversation was amiable the whole way through, but the Thane seemed to be mocking him now. Could support be waning so quickly? Suddenly, a voice spoke up over his shoulder. “Thane Forgekeeper, if I may?” It was Vargrin Cragjaw, an old son of a clan leader, and heir to be the third leader of his line in Sheercleft. “Halfshield’s a new name, yes, not yet carved in any stone ‘r hist’ry. But he’s good stock, Thane. His mother, Brynja, came north from Khaz Kadrin an’ left a clan that’s seen half a dozen elders live an’ pass. His father, stone keep’im, was a Hammer, an’ fought with Brynja fer years ‘fore they settled down.” The clan heir’s testament was a shock for Brundir, both in his sudden outburst as well as his knowledge of the matter. Brundir new there would have to be several drinks for this one after, and probably just as many stories. Turning back to the Thane, Brundir pulled himself up in his regal armour.
“What’s a man if his word’s no good? Cragjaw’s’ve been in Sheercleft almost since it’s start. I hold him an’ his name in high regard. I’m one an’ only t’my clan name, but I come with three artifacts of our people as sign of my worth. My name, an’ my clan, will live on as leader o’ Sheercleft, however long ‘r short that’ll be. I want ye t’know, great Thane, that this isn’t an upstart beggin’ favor. If I didn’ have a tall **** marchin’ up my mountains in less’n a fortnight, we’d be doin’ same fer Khaz Kadrin an’ th’ elves o’ Hyranatar.” Brundir took a step forward and unsling Karakarin from his back. He brandished its face to the Thane, then pulled Dumdrengi forward as much as his belt would allow. “Soul-Forger as my witness, blessed in yer own keep, I stand fer my home an’ fer my people. If ye want some cultist Breannian bastard fer a neighbor sellin’ ye ore, be my guest. But jus’ know ye left these splendid works in ‘is hands, too, an’ more trouble’ll come if I die.
If the Thane appeared unconvinced before, it was visibly dispelled now. He rose and slowly descended from the raised dais of his throne. Several other regal dwarves moves from the flanks to join at his side where they stopped just paces away from their guests. “Brundir Halfshield, formerly-clanless miner, veteran of war, hero, now clan-founder and lord-aspirant of yer own home. This is one I’d happily see rise. My scribe’ll start a plaque in their annals fer Clan Halfshield, even if it only carries a single name. Much’s I’d want it, we can’t give ye Khaz a Gungron’s whole army. If yer bitter on it, in time I’m sure ye’ll understand. I can, however, give ye plenty fer th’ job. Come, we’ll meet with my commanders an’ work out details. Yer friends an’ neighbors ‘ere are my guests, too. They can stay t’ discuss trade an’ such, then return safely when they like.” Thane Forgekeeper led Brundir and a few of the Naked Guard down a side passage where they entered a large, octagonal room adorned with maps on every wall and a large central table.
The day passed with planning, negotiations, and even a few rounds of fine drinks among allies. Khaz a Gungron’s own elders, priests, and commanders came and went. By mid-morning the next day, Brundir emerged from Khaz a Gungron astride Stonebrow once more. This time, however, a proud-looking armoured dwarf riding his own gigantic boar rode beside him. Captain Ironheel was his name, and behind him marched a hundred dwarves so heavily armed they seemed to be animated statues carved from marble. These were a century of a legion dubbed “The Stone Wall”. Captain Ironheel boasted they had stood ground against all manner of evil and hatred, but no one in history could claim any ground taken from where they planted their lines. Thane Forgekeeper kept his word - he couldn’t provide many, but what they lacked in numbers would be made up threefold in quality.
The trip to Sheercleft, while not any different than the last few times, had never felt so profound. Brundir felt like a great general marching to war. The travel was much slower now, since the attache was marching on foot heavily armed. In the nights they spent afield, the young dwarf sat enraptured at gathering fires soaking in the stories of combat and glory from each of the soldiers. Try as he might, he couldn’t help staring like a child at each of the grizzled veterans. Captain Ironheel was a fountain of inspiration and lessons during the march as well. While they rode, Brundir pried into every story and battle for teachings on the ways of proper battlefield command.
Finally, the reinforcements arrived. Riders met them when the town was within sight, and Brundir could make out construction works underway from half a mile out. Entering the gates, the force was met with looks of awe and wonder that he remembered from his first return from Khaz a Gungron. Several town guards shouted praise and thanks for the dwarves’ aid. The Stone Walls were consolidated near the barracks, then Captain Ironheel was given a brief tour of the town. He would see to his own, but Brundir was happy to offer Sheercleft’s hospitality to them while they stayed. Brundir’s only request was that Captain Ironheel offer the expertise of his soldiers in working with the Sheercleft guard to prepare them for the fight to come. Once the tenant force began settling in, Brundir set off to find his comrades to deliver the good news and see where they stood on preparations.
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
Dawn was still 2 hours away when the girl woke Nakia from her sleep.
“Ma’am, the scouts have sighted a wagon on the road from the west. It doesn’t look like a soldier, but they fear a spy.”
Nakia rubs her eyes, the Kobold scouts still had not returned, but they did not expect the army to arrive for at least another day or two.
“It must be him, wake the archanosi, we will need to discuss the action to take with him quickly. Have another draw him a bath and prepare a meal, he will be tired from the road but I fear we may not let him rest.”
Internally she breathes a sigh of relief, she had feared the battle would be upon them before her prized asset returned, she felt much more confident of what was to come with him on the field. She dresses quickly and heads to the temple, saying her prayers, unrushed and quiet, lighting the candle she heads for the gate. By now the dust from hooves and wheel can be seen and the hulk of the wagon grows as it lumbers forward. Guards have gathered and a few curious and concerned villagers who have somehow heard the news even at this hour.
“Lower your weapons.” She instructs authoritatively, “Do you not recognize one of your own liberators? Open the gate and guide him through the defences.”
She climbs down from the wall, even as the others approach and passes through the gate herself to meet him, she holds up an arm in greeting as he comes into full view. “Jex! I have missed you, you had better have good reason for abandoning me so in such trying times!” She grins, but the smile fades as her greeting is not returned. She almost reaches for a weapon until she sees his face beneath the hood. Eyes sunken and tired, face pale, even for him. He pulls back the hood, though still sits quietly a while. His usual black armour is nowhere to be seen beneath the elven cloak, instead he wears a simple grey tunic of wool. The blades are not strapped across his chest, side back, hip or anywhere in sight, a single dagger sits at his hip, Thurston recognizes it instantly as the gift he gave, but the hilt has been strapped and bound tightly around the scabbard in a knot that would not come undone easily. Across the half-elf’s lap lies a long wooden stick and a blunt wooden handle sits at his other side. Nakia cocks her head to the side in a half grin, used to his games she probes him again. “Very funny Jex, but I am afraid now is not the time, Sheercleft is about to come under attack.” His eyes darken, concern flashes across his face, but when his voice answers it is hoarse, cracking under a weight of dryness of one who has not drunk properly all day.
“Jex? No.” He shakes his head. His ears are somehow longer and his sunken, weary face enhances his elven features even further giving him almost the appearance of a full elf. “I am no longer to go by that name. That… Killer… Was a murderer, a thief and a liar.” His eyes go dark, haunted as his mind drifts elsewhere.
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An arrow thuds into the side of the wagon beside Jex.
“And now you are distracted, how foolish. Val would never have missed that coming. Without them to protect you, you will likely die here now. How could you have thought it was you who might offer any protection to them?” The voice drips with venom, the tired half-elf almost falls from his seat atop the wagon as visions flash around him, but it all goes white and then dark. Moments later he looks around at the horrific scene before him. A tear drips down his face, followed by another as he looks upon the ground around him. His bow falls to the floor and the bloody dagger clatters against a stone as it falls from his other hand and he drops to his knees and wails into the empty sky.
“What have you done now? How could you? Are you even alive?” A different voice now, younger, sorrowful, elven. “You have lost your right, let me have you.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Nakia’s eyes narrow. “Now is not the time, we know you are a killer, and we need your skills. Now snap out of it and come inside and help. Stop making a scene.” Jex turns, a tear forming in his eye.
“I go by Matteo now. And I am no killer.” He replies firmly, dismounting the wagon and walking past her. Nakia holds her arms up in despair and looks at the others helplessly. The being formerly known as Jex gives a sad smile to his friends. “I have missed you all, and I am sorry that I may not do as you had hoped, but really, you never needed me anyway, I have come to accept that.”
They never needed you, the voice echoes again in the rogues mind, dragging him back to his first day on the road from the fortress.
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I need to get back soon. They will need me before they continue.
“Need you? Hahahaha” The voice echoes from behind, startling the rogue.
It’s in my head, just shut it out. Still, he draws his bow closer and spurs the mule on. He rides through the day, stopping only when the heavy steps of the beast begin o drag and he knows it can go no further today. He focuses his mind on the excitement of the task ahead of him.
Thurston’s face when he sees them!
“Sees you, you mean! He’ll have forgotten you. He can wield the power of the skies!”
No, he needs me, what if Matthew comes.
“And what? You’d bounce those flimsy knives from the back of a devil. The gods you fight with have no need of your mortal abilities.”
No
He shuts it out and tries to sleep, focusing his mind on the small fire he had allowed himself, he pulls the mask on tighter in the hopes that the voice will forget him.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Nakia looks to the others pleadingly, her fists balled and glowing with magical energy as she contemplates a way to snap her friend out of it.
Thurston was awake and working, digging in the hard mud, getting ready the city defenses when he hears some disturbance at the main gate. Wondering what it could be, for it cannot be the coming of the army, he paces towards it, trying to get rid of some mud of his bare chest, without much success.
He finally arrives when the former Jex is standing and getting off the wagon,talking some nonsense with that girl from the orphanage. Thurston demeneaor changes from happy to worried as he hears his friend refering to himself by other name. He takes a step forward.
"Jex my friend!! " he says approaching, trying to get a direct eye contact with him "You have been truly missed, but I am happy that you have come back. Come with me " he passes his big arm around the half-elf shoulders, but anyone who knows the Norscan sees that he does gently, instead of enthusiastically has he usually does, almost as if he was afraid of broken his old friend's bones. "You arrive just in time for breakfast. You always had a talent to be at the nick of time where you are needed. I must tell you... you know I love the young Vark and old Bründir, but another meal with them talking about history and witchcraft with Seid and my brain is going to explode. Come Come... " as he talks he tries to get Jex out of the center of attention and towards the inn and makes sure that someone takes care of the mule and the wagon "Tell me everything about your journey. I want to know every detail. The Saga of Jex the Invincible cannot be tell with blanks on it... can it? "
He looks over his shoulder to Nakia, asking her silently to come with them.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Jex shakes his head sadly.
"My dear Thurston," Jex returns the embrace and allows the huge Norscan to lead him inside. "I fear the entire tale of Jex should be untold. Especially the tale of this journey." He scratches at the dirt beneath his cracked and bloody nails as he speaks.
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The moon peaks through the clouds as the half-elf kneels over seven small mounds of dirt. Tears mix with the dry mountain earth as he sits a moment later seemingly mumbling in argument with himself before rising and pulling off his armour.
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"I hope that Matteo will not make the same mistakes, and that he can write a history worth telling. I got you a gift though." He smiles. "The whole journey was not all better forgotten, Jex met with a final success, he requested four fine goats, fit for Thor himself, two will fly us as though trampelling the bridge to Asgard, and the other two though not so gifted will also make fine steeds." He pats Thurston on the back. "Though even those shall not be ready until a year has passed." Jex had intended to keep the beasts a surprise so that he could play a prank in exchanging between the flying onesand the regular but it seems Matteo has no such desire. "Now what is this trouble you find yourselves in?"
"Why do you say that? His tale is a tale worth be recounting! and be sang across all the lands!" as they walk Thurston looks really worried to his friend, even if he is trying that Jex doesn't notice. What could had happen? wonders the Norscan.
"You" he says to a youngling nearby "Go and fetch the other Arcanost. Tell them to join us. Quickly now boy!" he says to him
As he opens the door of the tavern and let Jex go first, he reaches out to his divine senses to see if there is anything devilrish in work here.
"What are you talking about friend? Flying goats? like Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjróstr? That would be amazing! Only a year?" it is obvious that he thinks that the goats comes from the same place of all this Matteo nonsense.
"We are about to be attacked by the army of a puny noble... but we will get to that in due time... now seat seat... let us drink together as we used to. We do no wait for the others to come, they will have to catch up with us eh?"
PbP Character: A few ;)
Jex pats the Norscan on the arm. "You are kind, but if you only knew, you would not think so well of him. I will drink with you, though I might make for unhappy company. Tell me of the noble. They are usually ones for talk, perhaps this attack is a political manouvre?"
"Oh they do not want to talk. It's a revenge, a movement to stablish the Maginobi once again in Sheercleft, disguised of a political maneuver." he takes a sip " But you see, we are using that in our advantage. We have reached our allies for help. The elves has sent cavalry, and Bründir is now Lord of Sheercleft and we are under the protection of the dwarf Thane. So we only need to stand our ground and force them to recognize our independence. The bastards... they have hired gnolls mercenaries and their army is led by a zealot who seems to be committed to our death. Well, he will soon learn that we are not easily undone eh? " he offers his mug to his friend.
"But enough of that for the moment. You are right. I do not know what could had possibly had happened to you in your journey. And it seems to be a dreadful tale. If you do not wish to talk about it now I will not push it but I will tell you what do I know. I know that our friend is always there for those who might need him. He could try to hide it behind a cloak of pragmatism and coldness, but my friend doesn't hesitate to risk his own life to stand against those who want to crush the innocent and the helpless. When I was thinking on celebrating after a hard battle, my friend was already working to ensure that no orphan children spent a night on their own under the stars, providing a refugee to them, and didn0t waste time to begin working on the future of this community, reestablishing the trade routes, which had been a success if you don't know. My brother was quick to laugh and always pushed me to look farther than my nose or my drink, so to speak, and kept me humble and sharp. He had taught me that the way to victory is not always a straight path charging across the battlefield and that a good teamwork is even better than a butthead.
So yes. Now that my brother is back at my side I will celebrate it and he will always have me to face anything or anyone."
PbP Character: A few ;)
Matteo raises an eyebrow at mention of the wizard cult again, he had assumed like the others that once the devil was released that there was no reason for them to want the town. An emotion and energy that had seemed drained from him flashes across his face as he takes the cup offered to him and sips gently from it. Nakia leans in enthusiastically.
"See, this man must be removed to save Sheercleft, the peaceful town we all live in." It looks as though something is tearing at the former assassin but his face settles quickly back to its tired, sad expression.
He sits up as Thurston continues though. Tears full his eyes as Thurston speaks of his deeds in Sheercleft but the pain looks as much disbelief as anything. He collects himself though.
"And how fares the orphanage and the trade centre? Is the temple complete? I would visit when we are done here."
A runner came to spread word of Jex's return, and that was all a certain dwarf needed to charge across Sheercleft to meet him. Bründir sauntered into the tavern, quickly finding where the trio were seated, then making a small ruckus in the approach. Since his return from Khaz a Gungron, it was rare to see Bründir without Dumdrengi and at least one of his fine dwarven artifacts. Today, he wore Karakalad, the stout armour gifted from Hurrig. Splendid as it was, the armour was not fit for casual wear about town, and Bründir found the extra bulk cumbersome. Still, he wore it proud like a badge of office.
Once seated, he waved over for another round of drinks, despite one already present. "Jex, welcome back, good t'see ye an' all that. How'd it go, what'd ye get up to, ye look like shit, we're not far from tits-up here. That about covers basics, yeah?" After Bründir's initial slew of questions, he looks over Jex with a smile and sees only a barren wasteland of drained emotion and energy. The dwarf's smile quickly faded, "Shit, man....what happened? Ye don' look like shit, ye look like a whole damn pit of shit set on fire. Spill. What happened out there?"
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
"The temple is mostly complete," Aiden says as he enters the tavern and overhears the conversation. He raises an eyebrow at Jex's clothing and demeanor. The half-elf seemed to be a completely different person than the one that had left Sheercleft a mere few weeks earlier. He moves to sit and waves over another tankard of ale. "Welcome back, Jex," he says, waiting for the rogue's answer to Bründir's question.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Aiden Olrikson | Human | Tempest Domain Cleric of Thor
"Jex is no more." He gives Brundir a sad smile. "I have decided to put the ways of murder and lies behind me in search of less harmful pursuits. I am Matteo now. But I have secured the goats as planned. Four beasts infact, two to fly and two less gifted. Now I am here to hear about this nobleman who threatens the town."