"Hmmm..." comments Gonzo, upon hearing of the dwarves take, "32%, they must be Government Workers from the office of Potentially Higher Earning Returnees... better known as Gov. W.O.P.H.E.R."
Zanax spends his time in contemplation and praying for guidance.
Drandar eats, drinks, and looks to see if there is a fighter guild in town where he can be merry, or at least beat some heads.
Lo joins him.
Lornard asks the local rulers if there are relative safe areas where one can wander around in the wilderness without too much worry of being caught.
"Not really," says the Herzog.
He will spend a little time - after making sure he gets enough rest or healing to be up to full strength - wandering in the wilderness and trying to be "one" with nature.
If any druid or ranger type wants to come along, Lornard will be agreeable, but he won't want more than one companion for this little trip.
Some time later, with a lot of noise and crashing sounds, Stump, Gilstrock, Lo, Drandar and Robert return from their expedition to the Merry Memory Moss Tavern. Drandar is carrying Gilstrock over his shoulder, who apparently is too inebriated to walk, and the warrior's head bumps the floor with each step that the dwarf takes.
With them is a woman who has very pleasant human features, wearing a grey tunic and leather pants with some sort of pattern in them. A mace and rope hang from her belt.
She sees in the dormitory room some other people: a man in clerical robes; a young man wearing a helmet with wings sprouting out of it, lying prone in bed and being tended to by what can only be a drow woman; two elves, another dwarf; another young man in leathers.
Note that Occa, Badd and Lornard are not present.
She pokes Lo in the ribs and says, "Um, that's a drow."
Her hand goes to her mace but she doesn't draw it. "Is this your whole group or is it a community area?"
"Yes, she is, do you have a problem with that?" he inquires. "Community area."
"No not a problem, the world takes all kinds. They just tend to cause trouble."
Drandar slurs, "I think this is everyone. That drow is Lo's latest conquest."
"Not yet," he says with a grin to the drow across the room.
She winks back.
Drandar adds, "Beggin' yer pardon ma'am but I reckon I'll be heading a bed now."
The dwarf dumps Gilstrock someplace comfortable before passing out in his own bunk, snoring loudly.
"Hi there!" says the drow.
Amberle gives a little finger wave.
"Don't they tend to be a little on the evil side? And the paladins haven't objected? This is strange indeed."
"I'm not your run of the mill drow," the woman says.
"Yeah, I assumed. Nice to meet you."
"My name's Kelene," she says.
You see a mature looking woman. Definitely an elf, however, her skin is as black as the night. Her hair is silver and spiked, her face covered in heavy, greasy makeup, which fails to disguise her less than beautiful features. Her eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot.
"Don't women tend to be a bit on the bitchy side too?" the dwarf says, sitting up. "And when the Paladin's object, we usually beat them about the head and shoulders, and that tends to solve the problem."
"Typically because men are such bastards. By the way, who beats you about the head? Or is it just me?"
Zanax harumphs, as he towers over the dwarf. "As if you could reach either of our heads, shorty."
Drandar begins to laugh hysterically. "Yes, old friend, bend over so I can thwap you in the head."
"She's not evil," replies the man laying in bed. "Although the constant attention she gives to the wounded, borders on torture."
"Suck it up like a man," the dwarf says, "And next time remember to wear your codpiece."
"I was!"
"I could check her slant, but I would assume the paladins would have done that already. Do you have wounded now, besides drunkards?"
Zanax, a human male, shrugs. "She's not evil, so I have no beef with her...not saying she's good, mind you...but definitely not evil."
An elf bows to the newcomer. He is dressed in simple garb that seems in good shape. His dark brown breeches are tucked into his black boots. His tunic is unstained and is a simple brown cotton. On his belt is a large pouch and a dagger. On his back is a worn leather backpack. He smiles and pushes back his golden colored hair. It is long and tied back into a long pony tail. His eyes are very dark and it is difficult to tell the color.
"Hello. I am Nason. Welcome. What brings you to meet our group? Were you assisting the drunkards in getting back?"
"I guess you can say that. We sort of bumped into each other outside a bar. Lo became enough of a gentleman to show me here. But he seems to have forgotten introductions. I'm Amberle."
"A pleasure to meet you," Nason says with a short bow. "So, what else brings you here if not just that?"
"What a fine young elf. I've finished my training at the temple and came out here to see what was to be seen. Start on my road of destiny."
Nason says, "Then feel free to join this group. It is an odd bunch, but we have found much from which to run."
"Not hard liquor obviously. Tis part of the reason I came, wanted to at least meet you all."
Nason chuckles. "A truer word has seldom been spoken. This band knows discretion by no name nor would recognize tact should it pass by on a narrow road. Even so, I have met fewer beings who have provided such good and faithful companions in the last hundred years, young lass."
"Hundred years, huh? That's a long time. Normally after so long someone becomes powerful. What circumstance has caused you to band with these?"
"While I am your senior by decades, in the elvish world, I am still young. Perhaps not so near infant as you, but young even so. Besides, I spent several decades making much of sylvan life...time taken to tarry with books and wine in glades never seen by your kind."
"Ah, so you haven't been adventuring for a hundred years. More like on and off. But can you tell me why you band with these in the first place? What qualities do they have that is so intriguing?"
Nason says, "They are a diverse group to say the least, but like the myriad pieces of a gnomish puzzle, they fit together well. This is a team that has great potential. All are stalwart companions."
Tragon waves from his bed. "Nice to meet you, Amberle. I'm Tragon the Faithful, a paladin of St. Cuthbert. Forgive me, if I don't get up."
"So you are one? Are you having a problem Tragon?" she looks around. "So where's the other 'white' knight?"
"Welcomes ta da menagaries... weez all critters o' sumtin... meez I'm Gonzo and Karumba is what me does," says the ugly dwarf polishing some plate armor.
"I'm sorry I don't speak dwarf. Can someone translate?"
"You don't?" Drandar says, surprised, "I thought all civilized people spoke our language. That is Gonzo, and he's a figher like me."
"And, who says dwarves are... oh never mind, wasted material."
Nason says, "Ah...you are a troubadour or jester? That might explain your less than favonian wit."
"Right, whatever you say Nasy. The dwarf put me on the bad side, acting like a common ruffian."
"I meant no offense and merely picked up your usage of the word 'material' in speaking with our fellow dwarf. I did not know that you bore him ill will due to his treatment of you. My apologies."
He gives a slight smile.
"No offense taken, yet. Just that so far the most pleasant thing to happen to me after getting run over by these, what did you call them, stalwart companions...was to be shown this place. The dwarf was the most obnoxious so I felt a lesson was in order. But they're as hard headed as their steel work. So where does one lay her head?"
Nason nods his head. "I see, then rightly so did you thrash him."
He then says, "Make yourself at home. It won't be long before we head back into the dungeons of despair and find some more monsters to flee from. Once yon paladin has fully healed his...err....his wounds, we shall depart."
"So someone is in need of healing? I can help if that's what you want?"
"Thank you, Amberle, but Kelene has healed me. I just need rest now to recover."
"Sleep well then."
Gilstrock, from the corner where he is slumped, rumbles in a slurred voice, "Got anything for a headache?"
"Just find an empty bed, Amberle. There are a few, I believe."
"Seez, dis be me tools o' me trade..." says Gonzo, twirling a couple of swords. "What good are youse?"
Amberle just smiles and turns away.
Stump nudges Gonzo, "Talk about being insulting. The least she could have done is answer ya."
"Women doan unda stand da intellect dey find in me rantings. She's prob-lee wertless in a real Karumba-like fight," replies Gonzo.
"When you don't understand the question the answer could be gibberish. Maybe you could have translated like I asked and then it would have worked, wouldn't it?"
Suddenly Amberle lights up like a Christmas tree.
Nason says, "Uh, Amberle, why are you glowing?"
"That's a damn good question. Ok, which of you schmendrakes is responsible? Someone's getting cute with magic."
The monk says to Kelene, "Are you playing games with the new girl?"
"Of course not!" Kelene exclaims, "Unless she'd like to join us."
"Games eh? Oh, we can play games."
In this light you can clearly see Amberle's features. She is quite beautiful. She has long black hair with emerald green eyes with a rounded face. Her tunic hides her upper body but her lower body looks powerful, like that of an athlete, a sprinter.
"Good night, Amberle," Lo says as he strides across the room and approaches the drow female. "Would you like to go for a drink in my room? I have some nice spirits that I bought at the bar, that is before we had a massive bar fight and bumped into Miss Manners over there," he offers. "So, I can't guarantee what condition the spirits are in, but mine are in good condition."
"So I see," Kelene notes, observing the bulge in his breeches.
"So let's go," he says offering his arm to her.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Lo. Same as outside the bar."
He quickly turns back and says, "I believe you and dear Kelene are two very different women!" he says with a smile and then turns back to the drow, obviously preferring her company over Amberle's.
"Duh, anyone can see that, she's easy."
Nason chuckles at the antics. "You must hold Lo in the highest regard to try and sway his opinion so by clarifying his understanding of the situation."
Lo shoots a glare at her. "You don't even know her."
"It doesn't take a genius, from what your companions have said and seeing you in action. Obviously you try to act like a gentlemen to get someone in the sack. Either that or you like jet black and caked on makeup."
Kelene sighs at the newcomer's words but does not rise to them.
"I am a gentleman at all times, but when a woman is being difficult and rude, there are times, it's tough to do so!" Lo replies.
"Oh, so your definition comes from the orc translation. I see. So go on have your fun. Don't let jawing with me stop you."
Zanax snorts and comments to Drandar, "I bet Amberle would make a great companion for Kad's group..."
Nason frowns and says, "I think that is quite enough, Amberle. Kelene is one of our companions and you need not insult her to injure Lo. Your manner is offensive, uncalled for and without aim or seeming purpose. Why don't we all retire for the night and mayhaps these hostilities will abate with the time."
Gilstrock, staggering to his feet, says, "Did somebody shay retire? Shounds good to me."
He ambles over to his bed. On the way by, he says to Amberle, "By the way, Nason'sh right. We all get along here, and don't schpend all our time bickering like shome parties. Shomebody comes in and wantsh to chance that, and well, it'sh gonna make us all sad, I'll jusht shay that."
Gilstrock shrugs. "Hopefully everybody'sh gonna be more willin' to jusht talk like normal folksh in the mornin'."
"Who's being insulting? Many people like to use a lot of makeup. And obviously you haven't heard of a women scorned. I must say you certainly stick together. I think I'll sleep somewhere else. It's a bit stuffy in here. Tomorrow is a new day, the fates have not spoken yet."
She turns to find a more remote area.
"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," Lo retorts as he watches Amberle walk away.
Nason says, "There is room here and no need for you to leave. Yes, we stick together which is what a team does as you will see over time."
He retires for the evening as well.
Sort of under her breath, the cleric mutters, "Heh, not as wise as he thinks."
Then, in a normal volume, "No, there is need. The knittings too tight. I'm sure we'll see each other again."
She heads downstairs.
Nason shakes his head and mutters, "A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance when the need for illusion is deep."
"Physician, heal thyself."
Nason chuckles again. "Ok, if you want to get silly...time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils."
Amberle departs.
At dinnertime on Reaping 22, a reduced complement of party members meets in the Herzog's dining room...the rest of the party being either absent, too drunk, or otherwise engaged. Present are Stump the warrior, Gonzo the unintelligible dwarf, Nason the elf, Zanax the paladin, and Lornard, who has just returned from an outing in the woods.
Joining you for dinner this evening, you discover, is Amberle.
Nason says, "Hail, Amberle. We are about to foray back into the dungeons again.
Maybe you could join us on our adventure?"
He calls for a bottle of wine.
She nods at him. "Evening Nason. Hmmm, I haven't quite made up my mind."
"Ok. Well, consider yourself invited."
He smiles and then has dinner.
"Thank you."
A man whom Amberle hasn't met before is sitting there. He has the broad shoulders of a famer, and looks to be pushing 50 years old. His face is open and friendly, but worry lines crease both his eyes and his forhead. His straight brown hair is long enough to be shaggy, and shot through with silver. He is clean shaven. The stranger dresses as a ranger - not fancy, but with solid, rugged clothes, including the ranger trademark dark green cloak.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he says in a serious tone. "May name is Lornard Braumer. I have been away, but am a part of this group. You are Amberle?"
"That's me. Pleased to meet you Lornard."
She surveys what's being served and takes some small portions. "What type of wine are you having, Nason?"
"Oh, whatever is available. Generally, taverns such as these don't have a great selection. If it is too bad, I have some of my own. A nice elvish wine. It is young for elvish wine at 20 years, but by human standards is very, very good."
"Oh, I'll just have the house wine. It should be fine. Funny, I didn't think elves went for the more fermented tastes."
"Why did you think that?"
Akitrom, your host, stands up.
"'A tavern such as this'????" he says to Nason incredulously. "How dare you say such a thing about my house! I demand an apology!"
Amberle is a little startled at this, she looks at Nason to see what he does.
Zanax sighs and continues to eat his fine meal, hoping it won't be his last one at Akitrom's.
Nason says, "Sure. I apologize. No offense was meant. I am merely stating an observation and hope that I am wrong."
He shrugs.
"So you are referring to my home as a tavern??!!" Akitrom says, getting really worked up now. "Get out of here! Servants! Remove him!"
Invisible hands pick up the elf and carry him bodily out the door. A moment later he finds himself dumped out into the castle courtyard.
"So I guess it's true that elves are a bit snobbish about their culture compared to humans?"
"Indeed they are!" snorts the Herzog, sitting back down and glaring at his beef tartare.
Nason says as he is being carried out, "Not really. We are longer lived, so we are also wiser and know quality. You humans just don't have the capacity..."
The rest of what he is saying isn't heard as he is carried outside.
Zanax chuckles. "Oh, well...I guess we'll pick him up on the way out."
"Hmph, a wise man would not insult another man's house. Oh well. This is a very fine layout Lord Akitrom. Thank you for the invitation."
"Lord Akitrom, are those things similar to what happened to your cloak?"
"One and the same."
"Mages sure have some neat tricks."
She finishes her dinner, eating light, and finishes her glass of wine.
"Thank you Lord Akitrom for your fine hospitality and cuisine."
"And thank you for complementing my table with your presence," he replies, having cooled off over the course of the meal. "Have you a place to sleep tonight?"
Amberle smiles. "Kind of you to say. That's how I originally came upon your sanctuary, I was looking for a place to stay for the night."
From somewhere upstairs you hear the sounds of distant thumping and squealing.
Zanax looks toward the sounds in concern.
"Ummm...perhaps my private guest chamber..."
Zanax draws his frost brand. "It may be an intruder, milord. Should we investigate?"
The noises are coming from the room that the party is staying in.
"If you believe that it is necessary," says Akitrom. "And please do not bring your sword to my table again. It is bad manners."
On that note the dinner party breaks up, and you retire for the night.