Tales of Faerun

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine sat at a table, ordering her own breakfast, and sighed, "We look for supplies. If you have doubts as to what you might need, speak with Maydiira. Make certain to sharpen your weapons, repair your armor or buy new. If you can use scrolls, lend some parchment to Xallistine so that he may scribe some. Or buy some yourself. Purchase as many potions as you can - antidotes, healing, invisibility...whatever you think could be useful."

[nethgros]

The morning had arrived, and Othos woke up almost begrudgingly, as sometimes he simply wished to be swept up into his dreams for eternity. He found that some of the others had woken up already, and realized that sleeping here any longer may begin to look rather odd; with that he lightly punched Kowolj in the shoulder to awaken him, got up, and moved to order some food for he and Kowolj.

 

Kowolj was still trapped in a state between waking and sleeping, and only had time to worryingly notice that Othos was heading toward the thri-kreen before nodded off once again.

Edited March 24, 2013 by nethgros

[Deleted6317247User]

"Well at least there's that." Nawen replied to Tannin's comment. She never thought that all those prejudices of all Drow being evil could be useful but she was wrong. Infiltrating evil groups would be easier for them than others.

 

Nawen spent most of the night in the common room. Sometimes watching the people, sometimes peeking at the scrolls Xallistine made.

 

When everyone started gathering to the common room again Nawen was watching the guards patrolling the streets. Some looked really sleepy.

 

"How long are we going to stay here?" Nawen asked. She thought it would be a good idea to find some work to do, or help people to solve their problems, for a price of course. Adventuring isn't exactly a cheap way to live.

[AurianaValoria1]

"At least until tomorrow morning," Rhaine replied, "It's going to take quite a while to repair that hole in Weyland's breastplate, and if we need other arms and repairs, it might take longer than that. I'm sure Bilron's family will appreciate the break in travel, but I hate to wait now that I know our destination is so near."

 

At that point, Maydiira came down the stairs, stretching and yawning, "Good morning friends."

 

The Doomguide smiled, "Good morning, Maydiira. Speaking of armor, you need to have a full and proper suit made for you. Showing off your skin is far less important than protecting it."

 

Maydiira smirked, "Perhaps folk like you should learn to dodge rather than trusting a sheet of metal to take a blow...metal that relies on the skill of the smith in question to maximize its strength."

 

Rhaine laughed, "And how many arrows can you dodge at a time, hmm?"

 

The drow shook her head, "Point taken. If it will make you feel better, Barra Ktonos, I'll have a new suit made. But only because you are so concerned for my safety."

[josh900]

Tannin eventually came down to the common room looking no worse for wear. He stumbled over to the bar and ordered up some breakfast. When his plate was set out he took it and hid in the corner of the room away from everyone else and ate in silence. As he often was after a night of sleep, he was in no mood for pleasantries.

-----------------------------

 

The tavern door swung open and a heavily armored man walked in. The Symbol of Kelemvor barely visible through the wear and tear. He scanned the room and caught sight of Rhaine. A scoff escaped his lips before he made his way over to her, his boots hitting the wooden floor with a heavy thud with each step. "Well well well. If it isn't the Chosen herself, Rhaine Alcinea." His tone displaying that he cared very little for her deeds or position as Kelemvor's chosen. "What's brought you all the way out here? Not trying to encroach on my territory are you?" He asked her with a smirk. Knowing full well that his brand of humor wasn't popular among most other doomguides.

[Flipout6]

Weyland touched his chest instinctively once Rhaine mentioned his armor's horrible condition, but he wasn't wearing it. It was in his bag. He was instead just in his regular clothing: Dark brown pants, brown vest, white shirt, and his usual leather boots. It felt off without the weight of his shield on his back, but that thing was completely ruined. A single hole could be patched up, but the might of so many blocked blows from Sana left it crumpled up like his old grandfather's face. He'd have to fix that later in the day.

Arland was similarly distraught at the loss of one of his twin swords. They were real quality blades, they'd never broken on him, or notched. It wasn't the craftsmanship that failed him, it was his own inability to grasp his weapon. He hoped he could get another durable blade like that. Hopefully he wouldn't have to pay extra for 'luxuries' like a fancy design or a ribbon. To him, a luxury on a blade was a cross-guard and a tempered blade.

 

Amendale just sat and ate his breakfast. He hasn't lost any equipment and he'd only lost a friend for a little while, so the only thing he had left to ponder was the training he was going to have to do to match Ginafae next time they met. She was far more powerful than Amendale ever was.

 

All three of them looked up to examine the new stranger that walked into the bar (Arland doing so with a twinge of nervousness.) but, despite them knowing full well he could be dangerous if he wanted to be (anyone that could had a stance about them that said so, though the claymore and scars aided that first impressions.) they focused their attention back to their meals when they saw he was a friend of Rhaine's. Weyland and Arland finished first, almost simultaneously (The had quite an appetite on them.) and stood up.

 

"We need to head to the blacksmith's, both of us." Arland said, eager to leave. He wasn't necessarily nervous, but he didn't like being around so many strangers.

 

"Sure, yeah, let's go." Weyland said. "We'll be getting new equipment, Rhaine!" He stated loudly across the bar.

 

It may have been early in the morning, but there were a lot of shops that opened early in the hopes of attracting early-rising customers such as the Grey brothers (despite despising the 'early' part of early risers.) so there were a few shops already open. They didn't see a blacksmith's yet, so they kept walking and talking.

 

"So why exactly did you disappear into nowhere on us?" Arland asked his brother, a subtle hint of anger in his voice.

 

"I was kidnapped. I wouldn't abandon you like that, especially at such a young age. Have a little faith in me, Arland, I saved your sorry hide yesterday." Weyland added the last little bit with a cheeky grin. Sibling rivalry indeed.

 

"Now if only you could save your own." Arland poked Weyland's chest. There would probably be a scar there for the rest of Weyland's life.

 

"Last I heard of you, boy, you were having trouble doing just that."

"And you got stabbed by a housecat."

"I'm also doing well financially. Don't have to steal to feed myself. This little escapade we're on is a bit of an exception given what I usually do, which actually pays me, but I also don't have to pay for a house right now. Left the one in Everlund to some other guy who'll be paying me rent once I get back sometime or another."

"So Everlund's where you live, huh? Long way from home there, brother."

"Yeah, well, I get back home to see you all and the house is a burnt-out ruin, what do you expect?" Weyland demanded.

 

"Well, when we start going hungry because one of our helpers is missing and the new landowner is a stuck-up pig, we won't have the money to pay taxes. And when we don't pay taxes, he takes the farmhouse, our livelihood, and razes it. After he kicks us all off the land under pain of imprisonment, of course." Arland snarled. The conversation had quickly turned ugly. "He's dead now, and we're pretty well-to-do as well, upper middle-class. Turned out to be a blessing in disguise."

 

"Let me guess, you killed him. Then you looted the mansion." Weyland guessed correctly.

"Yes, yes I did. And you'd consider this a bad thing, would you? Look what it did for us! Or do you not care? You do perfectly fine on your own, is that it?" The younger of the brothers snapped.

 

"You put all of them in danger doing that! There are people out there who will kill your family for something you do! I've seen it happen! I've been in the wars of the criminal underworld, being a mercenary does that to you! What were you thinking?" Weyland lectured.

 

"I was thinking, Weyland, that he deserved to die for taking advantage of not just us, but all the other farms on his land. Raised the taxes, stretched everyone to the breaking point. Ours was not the only farm to get razed to the ground!"

 

Weyland sighed. "I guess I'm not really one to talk about petty revenge missions, after what happened yesterday between Amendale and I. We were after you, you know. I've never seen him like that, y'know a guy punched him one, clocked him right across the jaw, and he didn't even change his tone of voice. You've made a hell of an enemy with your stupid choices."

 

"I could take him." Arland scoffed.

 

"Until he starts literally breathing acid and healing anything you do to him. You haven't taken on a wizard or a sorcerer, have you?" Weyland asked. "You have to make sure they're not in any state to cast a spell right off the bat, or else they'll turn you into a puddle of goo. Sure, they have limits to their power, but only in the same way you and I have limits to how long we can run. It's more than enough to kill a half-dozen men."

 

"Don't sell me short, you're not the only mercenary here."

 

"But I am the only man, it would seem." Weyland decided to brighten the mood. Of course when it came to siblings such a thing often involved taunting the other.

"Wait until our next fight, then we'll see who's the bigger man." Arland smirked slightly.

They came up upon a blacksmith's shop at long last, and while Weyland handed the blacksmith his chestplate to repair and browsed shields, Arland went looking around for another sword. There was a wide variety to choose from, ranging from daggers to claymores, and even some axes and maces. Arland winced, remembering Ginafae's enchanted mace from yesterday. After looking over and swinging each sword that tempted him, Arland eventually decided on a sword quite similar to one of his twin blades, but with a broader and slightly shorter blade that, similar to his twin blades, started thick, thinned out a bit towards the middle, and then thickened again near the end of the blade, meaning that each blow had extra weight put into it. This one would do slightly more damage, have slightly less reach and was slightly heavier, but all in all it wouldn't require much of an adjustment from his current fighting style.

 

Weyland continued to deliberate on which shield to pick, but unlike Arland chose quickly. He picked a large metal round shield, hefty but very strong and blocking a wide area, very handy in case a hail of arrows was unleashed upon them. It was coloured a dark gray, darker than his armor. It would take a bit more energy to use, but if he cracked someone upside the head with it, it would almost be the equivalent of a direct blow from a mace because of the weight behind the blow, which was enhanced by Weyland's physical strength.

 

Each fighter made their purchase, draining their funds considerably, and began heading back to the Teshford arms. Weyland's armor would be repaired later that day, they had more constructive ways to use up their time then waiting in a shop.

[GrueMaster]

Tak'we was devouring his breakfast with his normal appettite, apparently feeling better after Sori forgave him, when he noticed the strange softskin that challenged him last night walking towards him. The thri'kreen gave an irritated grumble; he didn't want to get into another confrontation this early in the morning, plus he hadn't finished eating yet.

 

"What doess strange softskin want?" he muttered quietly to himself, then went back to eating when he realized the man was just ordering food. After finishing his meal with a dozen strips of bacon, he rose from his seat and walked over to Rhaine. "You mentioned training last night," he spoke, "If so, Tak'we can spar with winged pointy-ears when you are ready."

 

"Right, then," Kalin nodded to Rhaine, then started mentally going through a list of supplies they may need down in the tunnels. He heard Nawen's concern about money and spoke up. "If money is going to be a problem, let me know." He pulled out a couple small pouches his coat and jingled them, estimating the amount left inside.

 

He nodded in satisfaction and tossed one to Nawen and Tannin and handed the rest to Xallistine, knowing the sorcerer would probably need it to pay for spell components. "There should be enough platinum inside to pay for supplies and what else you might need," he said to them, then went back to creating his list.

 

The soulknife didn't make much progress when he heard Tak'we mention training. He spoke up as he walked over to Maydiira, Rhaine, and Tak'we. "I think that will be a good idea. Perhaps after we get armor for Maydiira."

 

He studied the elven priestess up and down, making quick measurements. "We might be able to find a mithril breastblate or something along those lines. It should be relatively easy to modify to allow room for the wings." Dragging his thoughts away from armor-smithing, he turned to Rhaine.

 

"Also, Rhaine, if you have a moment later, I'd like to speak with you." Kalin paused for a moment, then decided he should finally mention his pyrokineticist abilities. "It involves our little problem with with fire-breathing dracoliches."

Edited March 25, 2013 by GrueMaster

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine grinned at Tak'we's proposal, "If you'll meet me just outside the walls around highsun, I'd be glad to test my blade against yours."

 

Maydiira offered her own nod of approval, "Aye...and so will I, large friend."

 

"And of course," Rhaine added to Kalin, "We can speak anytime you like. Just let me know."

 

The drow then raised a brow at the way Kalin was appraising her, giving him a lopsided grin, "An armorsmith, are you? I trust you're eyeing me for fit and not for something else."

 

The Doomguide shook her head, laughing to herself. It was at that moment that the large armored man approaching her table caught her eye. The first thing that she noticed was the weathered and beaten condition of both his countenance and his armor. The second thing she noticed was the faded emblem of her god upon his breastplate. She smirked back at him, "Oh noooo, it would never cross my mind...brother. Well met to you. Anyone of the faith is a friend of mine, and you are welcome at my table."

 

Turning serious, she added, "Any territory that hosts the undead is my territory until such abominations are banished from it. I am here because I hunt the Cult of the Dragon...I trust you know them well, brother?"

[josh900]

After finishing meal Tannin wiped his mouth and walked over to the others. "Well while all that's going on. May you feel like pointing me in the direction of the caverns? Still think I'd be a bit more help in there than out here. Don't mean to keep repeating myself but, I'd rather know how many we're dealing with before you guys go rushing in."

---------------------

 

The Doomguide inclined his head. "Heard enough about em not to like em, Don't have any personal experience with them, but... I could be persuaded to change that. When we leave? Haven't had a good fight in a while."

[Flipout6]

Amendale waited patiently in the tavern, thinking of various constructive tasks to perform (and coming up with none. Rhaine and Maydiira had enough problems without him asking if they could help make him a more powerful cleric.) and not coming up with anything. He was sure one of the Grey brothers could, they possessed far more practical minds than he did. He finished his breakfast and sat there.

 

It was a few minutes until Weyland and Arland came walking back through the door, chatting animatedly about various random topics and hilarious tales that they had both experienced and heard of on their travels.

 

".....So then I find this guy, and he's like 'feel the wrath of the GODS!' and then he starts pelting me eggs and the odd tomato. I came out of that place with the crazy peasant in a chokehold, looking like a Monday morning breakfast special." Amendale heard Weyland explain. Arland chuckled at that, but Amendale just winced. He'd been brought on that job, took a week to get the egg yolk out of his clothes.

 

The two of them sat back down at the table, content to just wait for a little while until it was a decent hour in the morning to be doing something else constructive.