In The Pass

[Guest]

Abram walks over to Eghas and hands him half the coin he collected in the pass. "I can accept your terms however you all need to accept D'Narenth and I's  terms. We will be your guide and help you  in these lands we will teach you our language however if you ignore our advice or warnings you will be on your own. I have traveled this land my whole life chasing criminals, at first with my father then after his death on my own. I have studied many of the cultures and laws of all the surrounding kingdoms. D'narenth and I have recommended the youngest of you stay behind for two reason first our next destination is Gonder, in that city I promise you the youngest will end up in the sex slave markets there. We will not be able to protect them 100% of the time and someone will see their value. Should you insist on taking them once we reach the city limits I will not be responsible, I am willing to compromise with the little elf and Vorodor. Second I have heard many of you claim that the young ones are your apprentices, unless you have been accepted as a Master you cannot have or train apprentices in most of our lands, doing so violates many laws and could cause your arrest."

[Eghas]

Eghas nods his thanks as he takes the coin, but other than that, he remains quiet to hear the reactions from the others. 

[Jeikor]

Innil nods to Eghas then deposits a half his coins in Eghas' hands.

"I had already made my decision and I put my self in your service earlier; I will go with you and I also promise I will return for any who stay here."

"Abram, I will heed your advice and look forward to learning from you and D'Nareth."

"Until needed for other things I am going to finish the boys' shoes that I started."

 

Innil gives a short bow and returns to his room to work.

[Eghas]

Eghas nods his thanks to Innil, while clutching his forearm in a warriors handshake

[A.B]

Elan'fal walks in lost in his thoughts, he listens to some of Eghas' speech and can extrapolate the rest, he looks at him, "You have me in agreement." He says and sits in chair.

[Zergrinch]

Whilst waiting for the rest of the party to gather, Zemzelett soughts out Reinlor, the cleric initiate. Beaming to the lad, the half-elf shows him his fully healed foot, and congratulates him on a job well done.

He has another ulterior motive in doing so, however. The crack present in the freshwater pearl he looted earlier looked like it can be magically mended, and based on the conversation they held yesterday, the boy was the only one with the proper cantrip to do so.

"Could you do me another favor, Reinlor?" the half-elf asks as he hands the cracked pearl to the boy for mending. "Can you use your Mending cantrip on this?"

Request Reinlor to mend the pearl.

Thanking the boy for his work, the half-elf sits down as Eghas launches into a well thought out speech. Throughout the speech, Zemzelett experiences mixed emotions.

When the tiefling suggested that the boys be left behind in the orphanage here, his first reaction was to shout out an empathic NO. He has grown fond of them, especially the cleric trainee who showed much aptitude with the crossbow and the healer's kit. The very idea of abandoning them here, in an unfamiliar city with an unfamiliar language, fills him with discomfort.  But, he cannot fault the logic here. The boys' safety was paramount, and the battle the night before proved that the Stink Brigade cannot insulate them from harm. It would be reckless to take them along and possibly get killed.

The second emotional roller-coaster ride involved Zemzelett himself. He is saddened that the human with the warm hug and the dragonborn both consider him too weak to travel with them. It is true that he's no warrior, and that he can't fire a crossbow to save his life. But he is still a full spellcaster capable of supporting the party, not on the front lines, but from the back. He shoots a disappointed look or two at them.

This feeling did not last long, for he was gratified that Eghas disagreed with them. He could also appreciate the concern they would have for his well-being; admittedly he is less physically and emotionally mature than his 16 years of existence would otherwise suggest. Being underestimated was actually a recurring theme in his life and the half-elf has gotten quite familiar with it, although he never got fully used to such treatment.

After Eghas ended his speech, the half-elf follows Abram's lead and deposits half his coin from the pass with the tiefling. He then strides out of the room and looks around for Brother Barrett.  

 

Give Eghas 33 adders, 23 vipers, and 17 asps.

"Brother Barrett," he says, "we haven't had an opportunity to talk. However here is your rightful share of the spoils, so please take it and use it for whatever you see fit. I understand you are not continuing your journey with us, and I wish you well on your future endeavors."  The half-elf hands over the spoils, which amounted to a considerable amount of coin and three gemstones: 

 

Give Barett his share: 67 adders, 46 vipers, 34 asps, 1 moonstone, 1 malachite, and 1 rhodochrosite

 

"I also have a request of you. After you and the boys left, we attacked and killed an innocent elf who got caught in the crossfire. Her body now lies in the wagon we brought inside in the city. Could you help to administer last rites as a cleric of Vindayin? I know it won't undo her death, but it is the least I can do to atone for our mistake."

 

The half-elf waits for a response before he will head off to the communal table to eat breakfast.

[Kyle Aarons]

Vorador waits off to the side with a smirk on his face. Once he hears several of the others and there is a break he speaks up, "You all are stuck with me or I head out on my own. I have done the orphanage thing and am done with it. If I travel with you I will give half my coins to the party fund, if not I will give a quarter and the other quarter to any of the others who wish to stay. And stay is what I would recommend. None of you are quite ready and it sure sounds like you will get some great training in ways of places you all would have known nothing about."

 

"Before I do decide to go with you all, however,  want to know what we are going to do first. do we ignore the cave and press on or what? For this D'Narenth or Abram would have much say. I say we ignore it, if you want my opinion. We know nothing about it and those within know it well. Just like we were able to avoid the Orakin down in the sewers of Old Port partially because the old Dwarf and I knew it better than those scouting it, we could find the situation reversed should we go into the mine."

 

Reld is next to speak up, "There is nothing for me here. No arena, no use of weapons within the walls, no glory, nothing. I am willing to give you my blade arm to aid you, but I expect, if we get to a city with an arena you give me a chance to show those in this land they need to take notice of Reld."

 

The five boys look torn but Melirel gathers them and reminds them they are still wanted by someone or something back in Old Port and it would be stupid to go back there until they were better equipped to handle themselves. However, all five boys want to see those in the mine freed. Finally Melirel turns and speaks up for all five. "We will stay here if you all rescue as many as you can from the cave and if you want we will come with you to do so. If not we will try to do it ourselves."

 

At hearing the translation of this Car' Sel busts up laughing. "An interesting land you come from, boys who are suicidal and way too big for their britches! But, hey, who am I to try to dissuade such foolish bravery. If you take them with you and any come back, I will have the militia work with them even as they learn our customs and languages. They will earn real coin, and skills far beyond what the youth in the orphanage are taught. They would certainly leave theses walls ready to face future adventures!"

 

Reinlor is not able to mend the pearl

 

Barrett is staying and offers to look in on the boys should they chose to stay.

 

*** Punt! The ball is back in your all's hands! ****

[Zergrinch]

Having obtained Brother Barrett's agreement to properly honor the elf's remains, Zemzelett indicates to the group that he agrees to rescue the gnoll captives from the mines, and heads off to the communal guest table to partake in breakfast. He was almost done eating when he sees Elan'fal stroll towards the table.

 

Note: What follows is a transcript of a private conversation Zemzelett has done with Elan'fal. I have modified it to fit the narrative, and with minor revisions.  But otherwise the original dialogue of myself and A.B. remains intact. We... might have gotten a little carried away.

 

Elan'fal spies Zem sitting on the edge of the table, with Quelten next to him on the one side and an open chair on the other. He takes the open chair after saying his greetings to everyone. "Hello, Zem." He says with some hesitation.

"Good Morning, Sir Elan'fal." Zemzelett acknowledges the greeting formally, albeit a bit stiffly and with a degree of apparent discomfort.  The half-elf then refocuses his attention on the remaining food that he is stuffing his face with. 

 

The socially-adroit Elan'fal easily senses there was something off with Zemzelett's interaction.  Although he was no mind reader, he couldn't help noticing the half-elf has a palm-shaped bruise on the right side of his cheek that's turned a rather striking shade of midnight blue.

"Shall we take a walk after breakfast?  Maybe we can go shopping for supplies. It will give us some time to chat, if you don't have a problem?" Elanfal said.

Zemzelett's hand involuntarily flies up towards the bruise, although the half-elf manages to suppress it after a fashion by deliberately overshooting and then straightening his hair. "Well," he says politely in a hushed voice, "I was planning to go to the market, but not exactly supplies since Eghas will take care of it.  I do have a few things in mind."  Think as he might, the half-elf could not think of a reason to brush off the elf's invitation, and he lets his statement hang in more or less an awkward silence.

"Then we best be off, before all the good stuff are sold," he tells Zem, and gets up from the table.

Realizing that Elan'fal clearly had something he wanted to discuss, the half-elf polishes what is left of the breakfast.  "Please," he addresses Car'Sel in Dwarven, "Give my compliments to the cook, and my gratitude towards the temple of Vindayin.  That was really delicious!"
 
Patting Quelten on the back, he whispers, "I'll be going to the market with Elan'fal.  See you all later!" before turning and catching up to the departing elf.

 

Elan'fal nods his thanks to the dwarf and heads out with Zem. When they have traveled a fair distance, he pauses to look at the younger boy. "I am sorry I slapped you back then, but I have come to see you as sort of a younger brother and the idea of you killing yourself was beyond what I could control. Still I should perhaps not have put so much...kick behind it but I wanted to knock that out of you. Still you have my apologies for that. Lead the way to the market." He tells Zem.

"Oh this?" Zemzelett declares airily, "It's nothing.  It doesn't even hurt now."  To prove his point, the half-elf slaps his bruised face hard with his hand.  "See, all healed.  Nothing to apologize for."  

Although Zemzelett's facial expression remained neutral all throughout, he winced imperceptively when his hand hits the bruise.  He quickly turns around and briskly walks towards the market, desperately attempting to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes from Elan'fal. 

"Hey! Don't do that and you don't have to try and act tough, I hurt you...not entirely willingly so and I am sorry for that but I did..."

Zemzelett stops walking.  Turning back slowly, he gazes at Elan'fal, who was actually nearly a head shorter than him.
 
"Hey, stuff happens. Don't worry about it. I probably deserved it." he reassures the Sorcerer.  He still remembers what Elan'fal has whispered to Innil in the Moon Elf dialect - that he Zemzelett might fail.  Something that was validated from the half-elf's recent mental breakdown.  He is determined not to fail in being manly in front of the Elf.  Eager to change the topic, the half-elf decides to ask a question that has been nagging at him for some time now.  "Sir Elan'fal, how old are you, really?  You look to be no older than me, I can tell you are much older by the way you carry yourself."

"No, need for sir...I am neither your superior nor your liege...Elan'fal or friend will do...what do you want to buy?" the Sorcerer asks, attempting to deflect the question.

Success!  Elan'fal was every bit as canny as he was, but he outsmarted him and redirected the focus away from himself.  Zemzelett mentally congratulates himself on a job well done. "Pretty much depends on what they have, but I do want a cart to carry any loot we find," the Half-Elf grins. "And maybe something for the boys.  A reward for Reinlor definitely - he patched me up real good.  And a quill and magic ink maybe?  I am sure Gothan would love to transcribe some of the spells belonging to that spellcaster."
 
Zemzelett suddenly remembers how gleefully the Elf slit the gnoll's throat, and threw the still-twitching head so casually in the wagon the night before.  His grin wavers a bit.  Elan'fal notices this easily.

"Sounds good, but you need to believe that you were not at fault last night. No one could have known that she would be there or that she was not a foe. Forgive yourself young one, a life of regret is not worth it...I know..."

Mentally groaning at the failure of his diversionary tactic, Zemzelett nevertheless sees another opportunity to yet again deflect the conversation.  He seizes on what he perceived to be a possible opening the Elf's response left.  "You know?  How?"

"One does not get...when I am without mistakes....some are easily forgotten... some remain as nails ever biting inwards." Elan’fal replies testily.

"What happened?" Zemzelett presses Elan'fal in an awestruck voice. "It sounds like there's a story with a good lesson behind it."

Elan'fal looked at him with the deepest sorrow in his eyes, then he cleared his throat.  After a short dramatic pause, he sighs and asks, "What do you know of the Ygral campaign?"

"Not much," Zemzelett admits. "I know it involved a coalition of races on one side and orakin and goblinoids on the other. The coalition was winning, but something bad happened that forced both sides into an uneasy truce. Rumor had it that there was demonic interference involved. But that happened over 800 years ago."

 

The half elf gazes at Elan'fal, studying his face. "Other than dragons, everyone who was involved would be long dead. Even Elves, the longest lived among the mortal races, don't survive past 800 years."

"Igrain's mistake was pride... His second in command... my mistake was arrogance. I had led a battalion for too long, enjoyed too much victory and....then we fell... What happened, I do not want to talk about right now, but I know what and how it feels like living a life of guilt... Even without the campaign, I would still know....Liatahra..." He whispered this last part in a barely audible voice.
 
Suddenly switching trains of thought, the Elf turns to Zemzelett. "Zem...how old do you think I am?"

"You look like you're my age but you're obviously not. You have the trappings of an emancipated Elf over the age of a hundred. I would guess perhaps 150." Zemzelett replies.

Elan'fal chuckles bitterly. "I was Igrain's second in command... Add more centuries, young one...."

Zemzelett snickers. "Surely you are pulling my leg, Si-- Elan'fal.  If that were true then you would be nearly a thousand years old, if not more!"

"Maybe I am jesting, maybe I am not...ask of me a question that you think someone that old would know...or something you think proof enough."

Never a student of history, the half elf dodges the challenge. "I'm just saying it is not physically possible.  No Elf lives that long, unless..."  Zemzelett starts backing away, horrified at his next thought. "Unless he is a vampire."

"I am no vampire, Zem.  I have no idea why I have lived for as long as I have and I am...not that young...there is a lot you do not know about me but you still have not guessed as to my age," Elan'fal replies.

"No, I suppose not," Zemzelett says, immediately feeling foolish.  Elan'fal was standing in broad daylight.  If he were a vampire, he would be vaporized immediately by the rays of the sun. "One final question before you tell me the story.  By all accounts, the disgraced Igrain was a truly powerful sorcerer.  His second-in-command would surely be similarly-skilled.  But from what I surmised, you were in Old Port with the rest of our group to become guilded.  How did you come to lose all that power?"

Elan'fal lets out a sign.  "It was not power I had, it was cunning. When you have a few well-trained soldiers by your side and know the lay of the land, you can ambush a force that appears to be far superior to yours and crush them. I never defeated anyone with huge power but with cunning. I am older than that though...  With age, cunning, and knowledge, I could defeat whatever came my way. As for Igrain, his sin was pride...  He thought he could summon and command - not just one demon lord, but all of them."

 

"The battle was lost, the war was lost, and instead of admitting defeat and returning to his king to face punishment, he thought that he was so powerful as to call forth the demon lords and command them to destroy the orcs and goblins.  Instead.... instead, everything died.  The human army, the orc army, all living things for miles and miles.  What once was fertile plains and forests became the amber sands... wasteland.  Only a few survived. I do not know why I was one of them, I wish I was not, then perhaps the pain in my heart, the loss in my mind would go away."
 
"I will answer your question, young one, but it will probably scare you like I imagine it should.  I was born..." He took a deep breath, in his whole life so far, the only ones who knew about his true age were the people that had kidnapped him.  Releasing his breath in one loud sigh, Elan'fal continues. "When I was born, the Elven temple of Raren Aethel still stood. I was old when the human kingdoms started to form. I was old when Igrain was born. I was old when... I am quite old young one, but it scares the humans less if they think me to be 16. Scared humans are tougher to trade with. I have never told my age to anyone... willingly.  I would ask you a personal favor, Zem.  Please don't reveal it to anyone. It is my burden to share."

His eyes widen as he understands the implications of Elan'fal's longevity.  If he was born before the fall of Raren Aethel, he would be well over 2,300 years old.  There was no way any mortal could survive for that long. There were only two possibilities: Elan'fal is a dragon who decided to assume mortal form, or he is a god. The half-elf trembles, falls to bended knee, and starts kissing the soles of Elan'fal's boot.
 
"My Lord," he intones between kisses, "I shall keep it a secret until my dying day!"

"Get up Zem...please...I am nothing to worship...I...was done things that have made me what I am, but I do not know what. Please get up and treat me no different than before, I am Elan'fal...nothing more."

Ignoring him, Zemzelett continues to prostrate himself before the sorcerer, hoping that if he is placated, then Elan'fal won't eat or smite him. 

"Zem, please... just get up... Someone will notice... I am no god or anything.  Just an elf that for whatever reason won't die unless killed in battle." Elan'fal reaches down and lifts Zem from his arm pits gently.

Zemzelett hesitantly gets to his feet, and looks at the ancient Elf. "So you were cursed then." he says in a low voice.

"Most likely, although I have no natural Idea.  When that happened, I was still a child."

"I dunno. It sure sounds like a curse to me.  To never die, unless killed. Fated to continuously watch your loved ones grow old, waste away, and then finally pass." Zemzelett's lips curl up in a cheeky smile.  "Don't worry, I won't tell...  grampa."

"Good thing I have no loved ones and the only one I did is long dead..." Elan'fal says and then gives Zem a playful slap (without any strength) on the back of his head, "I am no grampa, and you are not my great great great great great great grandson!" Elan'fal laughs before turning serious. "I know what I'm talking about a life of guilt no matter how lengthy is not worth it. You are no murderer and you should not be looking for ways to die.  Dying is easy... well for most people. Living is hard and takes effort. Tell you what... I've answered your questions about me that I have not told anyone, so it's my turn. Tell me of your parents. What are they like?"

Fair is fair, Zemzelett thinks to himself. The Elf has given him information he hasn’t told anyone else in the party. Information that in truth the incredulous half-elf finds very hard to believe. But what does matter is Elan’fal himself believes it to be true. Was the Elf delusional from being exposed to the magical energies that crackled around them at the Swamp of Bones? It wouldn’t be surprising to the half elf.  Elan’fal was a sorcerer – his power comes from within – and having a surfeit of power could easily overload anyone’s memories. For now, Zemzelett will play along with the elder Elf’s delusions.
 
“My parents,” he responded at last, “were the kindest, best parents anyone could hope for.  Mom was beautiful, the prettiest in the entire Troupe. She was a dancer, always in the lead. She’s trained too – levels in Ranger.  She’s very good with a bow – she has this act where she’d shoot an arrow at an apple on my head, blindfolded, while hanging upside down. Dad always hated that.”
 
“Dad… He was… Dad…”
 
For some reason, Zemzelett chokes up, unable to continue.  His face is a mask of pain with tears spilling liberally out of his eyes despite not a single sob or whimper escaping from his lips.  The half elf tries his best to fence in all that pain, and contain it in a little ball, but fails miserably.

Elan'fal can see that Zem does not really believe him, as expected, but matters not. Eventually, he'll come around.  He sees the pained look on the boy's face. "What is it Zem? Talk to me and get it out of your system." He tells Zem compassionately. He sits them on a bench and waits.

 

A yip and a snarl from behind signaled to the family that they were no longer alone – a gnoll wielding a nasty-looking battle-axe was merely a few paces away, its dog like face salivating gleefully at its prey. Raising the axe high above its head, the creature charged forward and aimed squarely at the half-elf’s torso. Left with no time to react and few options left, Zemzelett instinctively brings his arms upward to block the strike. With eyes shut in terror, he braces himself for the pain that he knows will be the last thing he ever feels. His bladder respond in kind, with a yellowish puddle trickling through his loincloth into the trash-strewn ground.
 
There was a scream, but it didn't come from Zemzelett.  It was a primal scream, a shout of righteous fury.  The scream of a parent defending their young.  The gnoll yips and snarls, but Zemzelett's father wouldn't let go.  His hands have a death grip on the creature's battle-axe, staying its fatal descent towards young Zemzelett's chest.
 
For a moment, Zemzelett cheered as his father gained the upper hand. The creature's fingers slip backwards, its arms trembling as the human began to wrest its axe away from it.  The moment passed after a twang rang out, and an arrow sprouted out of his father’s shoulder.  The man’s grip loosens, allowing the gnoll to elbow him in the face and regain control of its weapon.
 
“Get down!” Zemzelett’s mother commanded in a harsh tone he has never heard before.  Facing the gnoll, she calls out in a voice devoid of any of its normal warmth. “Cowards!  Come out and face me, warrior!  Or is an unarmed wood elf too strong for you?” Moving impossibly fast, she whips out a pair of daggers and throws them at two separate targets. 
 
The first hits the gnoll with the battle axe square in its throat.  The creature didn’t even yelp, but crumples to the ground, mortally wounded yet unable to make any sound.
 
The second one sailed into the distance, and strikes a second gnoll that was wielding a longbow.  The dagger pierces its left eye, and the creature yips in pain as it drops the bow.  Its loud screech attracts three other archers, who turn and immediately send a volley of arrows at the Elf ranger...

Zemzelett appears to not have heard a single word Elan'fal has said.  He stares blankly into space, whispering "Dad." over and over again, tears still streaming from his eyes.

Elan'fal shakes Zem gently but firmly. "Zem, snap out of it! Whatever happened back then, it can no longer hurt you, you are amongst friends. Speak to me and banish the demons in your mind."

"Dad.  Dad.  Dad."  Zemzelett continues to whisper, completely unaware he is being shaken like a rag doll.  The half elf is lost in memories that seem to pour like a torrent, like a broken dam out of his subconscious mind.  As Elan'fal continues to shake the half-elf, he seems to feel something magical emanating from the half-elf's body...

"This is weird.  A magical aura..." Elan'fal casts Detect Magic in a ritualistic chant and focuses his full attention on Zem, his eyes glowing blue.  The Sorcerer runs his hands through the catatonic half-elf's body until his spell finds something on the lad's foot.  Removing Zemzelett's boot, he tracks the source of the magic until he sees a faded rune on his ankle. Not knowing exactly the rune does, he does not dare touch or try to undo them. He studies it long enough to realize that it is a rune of enchantment.

 

"This is not good. Zem come out of it!"

Not knowing what else to do, Elan'fal charges up and casts his Burning Hands spell. Arcane fire envelope his hands and he takes hold of Zem's hands in his. Carefully not to actually injure or hurt the boy Elan'fal infuses Zemzelett with one quick bolt of fire energy, hoping to knock him out of his trance, before releasing the spell. "Zem, wake up!"

As Elan'fal feels the small surge of fire energy rush into the catatonic half elf's body, he could feel the spell disrupt the runic magic that had enveloped Zemzelett. The enchantment gradually retreats back into the rune implanted on the half elf's right ankle. The rune lets out a soft reddish flow as the magic stops spilling out of it and it is finally resealed.

 

Zemzelett opens his eyes, having stopped moaning when Elan'fal started to pour his magical essence inside him. He looks a little groggy and out of it, but otherwise fine."I... What was I... Oh HOT HOT HOT!"

"Sorry, I had to eject some fire magic in you to counter the magic from those enchantment runes on your ankle. At least, we... you know how to counter it from now on. We need to find a way to undo them permanently without damaging you.”

"Enchantment?" Zemzelett asks Elan'fal.  "No, this is an abjuration rune, meant to provide me with luck and good health."

"I do not know why, but someone has lied to you. I've been around long enough, and know enough of magic to know enchantments when I see them, young one. We need to learn somehow what that was there for, and who placed them, I fear they are not there for good. I hope your parents are okay back in Old Port, maybe you can tell me of them some other time, for now I think you should buy what you wanted and we should return to the others before they wonder where we are." Elan'fal said and stood up.

As Elan'fal walks off, Zemzelett looks again at the mildly warm rune implanted on his foot. What the Elf told him casts a new light on what his mother told him to do.  Before she left him in Old Port for an important task, she told him to look for a "key" to "unlock the rune".  In the ensuing days where the half-elf desperately tries to survive on his own, he didn't really have time to reflect on him.  But now, the matter is starting to weigh on his mind.
 
Locked in thought, the half-elf strolls into the market, hoping to find something he can buy to reward the boys for their help the other night.

 

---

This is Zemzelett's to-do list which I won't put into dialogue, and we'll just assume he tries to do it.  All prices here are either based on prices provided by Kyle or published in the PHB.  All transactions are to be done in this order of priority, since he may not have enough funds left:

1. Sell the expensive viol (50 silver) and buy a cheaper one.  If a mundane dulcimer (25 silver) is not available, he can opt for a mundane viol (30 silver), a lyre (30 silver), or a lute (35 silver).
2. Sell the obsidian gemstone (10 silver).
3. Have the "good" studded leather armor resized to fit him
4. Buy good shoes for Reinlor
5. Buy an ink pen (2 bronze), good inks (10 silver), and components (50 silver per spell level) to allow Gothan to copy one spell level from the Gnoll's spellbook (that Eghas captured) into his own 
6. Buy a signal whistle (5 bronze), and a bag of 20 caltrops (1 silver)
7. Buy a cart (15 silver), a donkey or mule (8 silver), and animal feed good for 7 days (5 bronze/day x 7 = 3 copper 5 bronze)
8. Buy a bit and bridle (2 silver) and two saddlebags (8 silver)
9. Buy hide barding for the mount (10 x 4 = 40 silver)

[Quelten]

Quelten sighs and steps forward.  "I have kept secrets that need to be shared among our group.  Car'Sel, Barret, with all due respect, you have no need to hear it and I beg you do not ask for this trust.  Abram, D'narenth, you on the other hand have shed blood with us, and are likely to adventure with us, and so I will entrust this secret to you.  Each of those we rescued, also, I will trust with this secret, on your honor.  You need to hear it.  Your pain at the hand of my brother has earned you that right."

 

"This is difficult for me," Quelten says slowly.  "And for the sake of my family, before I speak I must ask for an oath of secrecy from each of.  Not to take this secret to your grave, but merely to hold it close and ensure it does not shame my family unnecessarily.  Take great care in where and when you speak it, share it only at great need and then only with those who need hear it.  If my family is shamed, so be it, but try to avoid that shame."

 

"I imagine there are others here who need to speak, other business that must be concluded.  I will wait until we are all ready before continuing with my secrets."

[Eghas]

Eghas shakes his head.  "The only dishonor i see in you right now, comes not from your brother, for you have no control over what your brother did or did not do.  no.  the dishonor you have with you now is your treatment of someone who has shed blood with us for more than the past 3 moons.  I understand your dislike of Barrett, hell in someways i join you in that dislike.  but ask yourself this, and answer truthfully, has he ever done anything to make you think him someone unworthy of your trust.  more then i have?  Speak it not out loud, but think on it.  honor and respect is given to one who earns it, he has shed just as much blood with you, as any of us have.  Unless Barret himself decides he does not wish to hear what you have to say, i will not be there to hear it either."

 

Before any other comments can be said, Eghas turns and leaves the area, going back to where they slept to go over his gear.

[D'Narenth]

"The mine Shaft will require a real military expedition, in order to ferret out that evil that lies there." D'Narenth explains to them all, in draconic. "There are not enough guards in this town to attack such a holding. There are not enough Warriors in my village... But perhaps together... Car' Sel, when you contact my people, ask them. It is an infestation that should be driven out. Sooner would be better, but planning takes some small amount of time." D'Narenth attempts to drive his point home, "I do not fear death. I fear needless loss of life, when such can be prevented."

 

"Here, take this coin, Eghas." D'Narenth hands him half his coin from the pass.

[Quelten]

Quelten shakes his head.  "You speak of trust, Eghas, but I spoke of need.  He has chosen his destiny, to remain here.  He doesn't need to hear it.  The rest of us, who remember our quest to return the children to their home, have need.  I do not speak ill of his decision, but he has forsaken that quest, and has no further need of these secrets.  And the children, they too have need.  They have a need for understanding."

[Eghas]

Eghas stops, but does not turn around.  He shakes his head sadly then speaks softly.  "For one who values honor so highly, you seem to let untruths cross your tongue rather easily."  He turns around and meets Quelten's eyes.  "you had already spoken to me about what you wish to say, and whom you wished to say it to.  that would have been fine.  but then out here, in front of everyone, you say something different then what you said to me earlier.  Even a lie to spare someone's feelings is a lie.  you could have said nothing at all, but you chose to.  Yes, i spoke of trust, because at the end of the day, the only thing that can not be taken form you is your honor, the only way to do that s to give it away.  deliberately speaking untruths is the best way to give your honor away, since now i will have to wonder if what you have said it truthful or not."  he shakes his head again.  "Perhaps we should just attribute it to stress, and youth, not a deliberate attempt to lie?"

[Quelten]

"Very well then, since you insist on pressing the issue," Quelten snaps.  "My apologies Barrett, I had hoped to avoid publicly insulting you but apparently Eghas likes rudeness."

 

"What I said in both situations is the truth.  In public, I spoke of need.  And the truth is Barrett has no need of this knowledge, whereas those who adventure with us, or who have suffered from it, do.  In private I spoke of trust.  And Barrett has earned my distrust."

 

Quelten turns to look around those who don't speak his version of common.  "My apologies to the locals of this area, but this next part is private, and I will ask our translators not to translate it."

 

"And the part I do not wish translated is that as soon as we are confronted with a local, Barrett up and decides that we, as a party, are going to lie.  I do not like him, but that decision, that ready use of deceit when simply leaving parts of the story unspoken was sufficient, that is enough to earn my distrust."

 

"It is one thing to shade a statement by leaving something unsaid.  We all do that at times, and there can be honor in it.  But to deliberately speak something that is false -- not something that glosses over an unpleasant truth, but that is actively false -- is not acceptable.  Worse yet, when the lie is discovered it destroys your credibility.  At least with shaded truth you can restore credibility by pointing out how you shaded things, but a lie destroys you forever."

 

"So, and this part may again be translated, I did not lie.  I simply spoke part of the truth, to avoid insulting someone to their face.  My apologies Barrett for the insult, but Eghas pushed the issue and there was no way but truth to counter his position."

[Eghas]

"If that is the way you wish to convince yourself, feel free.  but understand... the same distrust you have for Barret due to his ease of speaking with lies, is the same distrust i now have of you.  for both are the same."  Eghas turns and walks away.

[Zergrinch]

On his way to the communal table after giving Barrett his rightful share of the spoils (and before his interaction with Elan'fal which will occur afterwards), Zemzelett approaches the young cleric. He puts an arm around Quelten's shoulder.

"Come, my friend, let's have our breakfast. I can't wait to have my first hot meal since, well, forever!"

[Kyle Aarons]

Car' Sel walks away muttering about needing to eat before bedding down for the day and something about crazy humans. His exact words cannot be picked up because he speaks in Draconic and sortly, but his meaning is clear enough.

 

Vorador looks at Quleton with a totally perplexed look, "So you hate Barret, Nothing we didn't know from... oh... like five days down in the sewers. He probably dislikes you too, but what in the hell difference does it make?Without both of you some of those orphans with us would have been caught and we would have ended up in a fight becase they would have been forced to lead the way back to us. Would you at least pretend you want to be part of this group already?

 

Barret is staying here and tending to a temple that needs tended to and you are not staying. I am sure it will be better for both of you to be apart, but for someone who keeps taking about being NOBLE, how about you drop it already before you drive the rest of us out of our minds? It simply doesn't matter and whatever you are hiding or don't want others to know about doesn't mean a thing to the rest of us. All that does is this: Are you going to be part of the group and help us to succeed or cause this kind of strife the whole time? I really thought nobles were uppity, but by the gods, I really thought they wanted to lead, not divide!"

 

Off to the side Reld busts up laughing, "Damn, Vor, you do have some balls, and a bit of grit! We could make some good money in the arenas as a team. He then looks very sternly at the five boys, "You prissy boys want to go into the cave and the mine beyond, go. At least this way we know where you will be when we get back. You will be slaves being forced to dig whatever those Gnolls want dug! Otherwise, act like you have some smarts all the schooling your fancy pants mommies and daddies paid for and stay here, learn and maybe when we get back you will have enough skills to doe something other than talk a good game."

 

One by one the five boys flinch as Reld stares them down. After a few minutes of them shifting their feet and trying to find the nerve to spek up, Melirel kicks at the sone cround , "Fine, we'll stay, but something needs to be done. those people are... are... are what we were up till a couple of days ago. Someone needs to find them some help."

 

Vorador nods, "Agreed, and we shall see what we can do, but I'm not getting killed running into a cave like a fool. But at least you all care about those unfortunate souls." He then turns back to Quelton, "You ask me, that is what being a Noble is supposed to be about."

 

Finally he turns and looks at Talarc, "I don't get it, You tossed coins at me or made me chase them, but you and your friends care about others you don't even know. What did I ever do wrong?"
 

Luth responds, "He did it to lots of beggars so they could have coin. His father, all our parents really, hatted beggars and didn't want us giving handouts. Us tossing coins at making beggars chase them, however, was brushed off as us being mean, like kicking dirt into your faces. At least this way we were able to give out some coin. Besides, Talarc felt some power in you. He knew you were more than you looked somehow and wanted to help you out as much as he could. that was the only way he could do it without getting into trouble."

[Quelten]

Quelten glares at Vorador.  "Wash your ears out sometime and listen closer next time.  As I said, my dislike of Barrett didn't enter into the equation.  He didn't need to know, and that alone would have been enough.  I would never have added the bit about not trusting him if it hadn't Eghas hadn't pushed me!  I was trying to be polite about the matter."

 

"As for my bringing up my nobility," Quelten snarls, voice cracking under the strain of his temper, "the closest I came to that was mentioning that my secrets would embarrass my family.  Something that requires no nobility to be true.  If you had a brother, you gutter-snipe trash, you'd be equally embarrassed to admit he was going to-"  Quelten reigns himself in at the last moment working his jaw in fury.  "My apologies," he says eventually.  "I should not have thrown that insult at you in such a manner.  Believe it or not, I wasn't intending to throw our relative social status in your face, I simply..." he shook his head, clearly unable to find the words to express exactly what he wanted to say.  "Nevermind.  You wouldn't believe me even if I could find the right phrasing to express my intent.  You'll put your own meaning on my words just as effectively as any of the worst kind of scheming, double-crossing, plotting, so-called nobility could.  The kind you clearly are convinced I am.  So let me end on this insult instead.  Congratulations.  You're easily the match of those you despise."

 

Quelten sighs, then turns to Zemzellett.  "Breakfast sounds good, to be honest.  And you, at least, are decent company."

[Zergrinch]

Zemzelett shoots Vorador a shrug and a helpless but apologetic look, mouthing the word "Sorry" as he starts to accompany Quelten out of the room, hoping the half-elf orphan would find it in his heart to forgive him.  He could tell the young cleric needs all the support he can get right now.  At this moment, Quelten looks like a scared teenage boy who said something in a moment of anger that he probably regretted tremendously now.

 

For all the lad's bluster and bravado, he is all of fourteen.  Sadly, it appears the young Beurden had to grow up faster than he should, almost sort of Zemzelett's polar opposite actually.

[Guest]

Abram laughs really loud once all the translation has finished. "D'narenth and I have nothing to fear of being your guides in this land as it will be a short lived." He looks around the group"if the gnolls don't kill you then you will all end up killing yourselves. You there young Cleric you speak of honor and nobility and call someone a gutter-snipe trash, guess what your noble statues does not exist in this land your are nothing more than a vagrant in a foreign land. You Eghas, you speak of truths and lies like they are leafs on a tree, there are not such thing as absolutes truths and no such thing as absolute lies. Reld you want to show off your fighting skill and want everyone to look to at you and see how great you are yet you treat those younger and more vulnerable like the dirt on your boots. Each and everyone of you are here for a reason, what that reason is I have no clue but I will tell you this if you want to live to be old enough to see hair on your man parts you better start learning to work together,  you had better trust each others actions and Ignore each other words. I have chased many a criminal down and at the end when all they have left is there mouth they beg, plead, lie, deceive, and even tell the truth but none of that changes a gods be damn thing about what they did. I have seen groups of bandits treat each other better than the lot of you. I was willing to chalk it up to youthful inexperience but I that's being to nice. You all are as stupid as a whore at lunar fest with no cash. Nobody gives a gutter rats shit about your family, and nobody out here care one meal worm about how well you fight in  an arena or what you think is the truth or not. The only truth out here in the real world is you do what ever it takes to survive. So pull your heads out of your shit makers and realize the person standing next to is going to save your life someday real soon."

[D'Narenth]

"Because if you don't, then the person next to you, may just feed you to the next Orc they see, to keep from being Orc-food himself!" With that, D'Narenth slaps his thigh and begins laughing.

 

But just as quickly as he began laughing, D'Narenth sobers and says to Abran in antargeth common, "What troubles me, is the feeling that we are being played upon by powers that we cannot see."

[A.B]

"Eghas with all due respect to your...fragile leadership, maybe we should move on from all this? We are a group, and we can't remember it only during battles. I for one agree with Quelten, I do not trust, respect or care for Barrett one single bit and unless I see a significant change in his attitude that will not change. You, Quelten, Zem and Innil have shown change and attitude towards common ground and you have my respect. Now...can we deal with more pressing conserns....like who wants to kill us, what is happening in that mine and how to get back to Old Port in one piece?" Elan'fal says calmly to Eghas and everyone else.

[Jeikor]

Innil has been able to hear all that was said while he worked on the shoes after finishing them he takes the left over bits of pelt and the stuffing from his pillow and creates a ball by stitching together scraps of leather. Innil enters the room where everyone is gathered, hands the boys their new shoes then tossing the ball in the air asks, "Who wants to play a game? There is an elven game we can play right here. Luth, Talarc and the rest of you come on. How about you, Zem and Quelten? Come play; have some fun. Anybody is welcome. Reld?"

 

Innil continues tossing the ball waiting to see if anyone is willing. He smiles as friendly as he can.

[Eghas]

Eghas stopped when others started to talk, but did not turn around at first.  Finally he does, just as Quelten and Zim are about to leave.  "Quenten!"  He calls, then waits for him to turn around.  Eghas sighs to himself then wals up to Quelten, and extends his hand.  "Please forgive me.  The stress that we have all been under, seems to have gotten to me."  After shaking hands with Quelten, (Assuming that he does), he turns and looks at the rest of the group. 

 

"Elan'fal is right, and so are the rest of you.  We have said from the beginning that we need to learn to work as a team.  that means not only do we have to be able to work together, but we also have to be able to trust each other.  We have fought together, bled together, and are now stranded in this foreign place together.  we also need to trust our guides as well.  They know this land better then we do, so we need to put their knowledge to best use.  Let's take some time to go through our gear, see what needs fixing or replacing.  Lets get what we need, so that when we do go out, we can be the best equipped we can be. 

[Quelten]

Quelten takes the apology with what little grace he can muster.  Eghas was at least trying to be fair, even if their definition of truths were at odds.

 

As for Innil's idea of a game...  Quelten took a deep breath.  "After breakfast, we need to prepare and equip," Quelten tells Innil.  "Perhaps we can play after we get our work done.  I'd... like that.  Or maybe we can track down a dragon chess set.  You're right, we've been under battle footing since Old Port was invaded.  We need to take some time out.  The stress will get to us if we don't, assuming it hasn't already."  Quelten carefully didn't look at Vorador, hoping no one noticed his complete inability to calm down.  The urchin had really gotten under his skin, which suggested the stress really was getting to Quelten.