In The Pass

[Zergrinch]

Zemzelett pipes up with an idea. "Hey, I've got just the thing to help us relax. I've written a patter skit about our team to introduce us to the town and help us sell the junk we've salvaged. How about you help me move the wagon to the market and put on a performance this afternoon after I set up shop?" I'm calling the skit 'We are the very model of a team of brave adventurers', and I need everyone's help. Eghas, Quelten, Innil, Elan'fal, D'Naranth, Abram, Reld, Vorador, Talarc, Reinlor, Melirel, Luth, and Gothan. You're all in the skit and I could sure use your help in staging it!"

The half elf excitedly continues although he was starting to run out of breath, "You don't have to do much, just stand and wave to the crowd. And when i introduce you, flex your muscles or point your fingers at imaginary foes as if casting a spell. If you can play an instrument or have cantrips that create light or sound, we can ramp up the special effects!"

"For now, I really want that hot meal. Let's have breakfast, shop around a bit. This is the first time I've had this much coin on me, and I want to spend it! You can also do some maintenance and maybe try to identify what the magic stuff we have actually does. Like those potions, spell scrolls, and magic oils."

Cracking a grin, he takes out the dragon chess set he took from the bandit camp and hands it over to Quelten. "I heard the boys can play a mean game of dragon chess," he tells the cleric in an exaggerated whisper. In a more serious tone, he adds, "We're all here. If you want, you can tell them now what you told me last night. I have your back."

[Quelten]

"I need that oath, first, to assuage my own honor," Quelten replies sadly.  "Even with it, speaking at all is skirting the edges of my vow."

 

"Then again..."  Quelten sighs.  "To the hells with it.  My father will understand.  Beurden honor is in service.  And all of you need to understand that getting our information back isn't optional."

 

"My father, and the realm, need to know my brother was involved," he tells the group.  "They didn't tell me much of their investigations, but the fact that my brother was with the gnolls...  they need to know it.  Need.  Every piece of the puzzle is vital."

 

"I could leave it at that simple statement, but you all need to understand.  Understand just what my brother has done, what he is.  Why I hate him as much as I used to love him.  As much of that story as I can share, even though it's a long one.  Some parts may not seem relevant, but they're like the brushstrokes that make up a painting.  Each piece adds to the whole, even if it's not obvious when you start."

 

"My family is old, powerful, and steeped in tradition," Quelten starts out firmly.  "Beurdens of Beurden have served the realm for as long as there has been a realm or longer, and have done so with distinction and honor."

"The eldest son inherits and serves our people as lord," he continues.  "The second son joins the military and serves the king.  The third goes to the priesthood of Pelgrin and serves our patron god.  The daughters marry into other houses, serving at court as diplomats to help bind the realm together."

"Fourth sons are not spoken of in the tradition, but we are thrown into the gap wherever needed.  Should an elder brother die, we take up an appropriate position to fill whatever hole is left.  We may serve in the military when the heir or second son dies, or the priesthood if the third son dies.  But in the end, we serve as needed.  Honor, tradition, and valor are our duties."

"I was thus trained, and trained hard, in all necessary duties of a Beurden of Beurden.  Diplomacy, military, religious, and against the worst of disasters even rule.  I was raised to fulfill any role I had to."

"Jeraul and I got along well enough as children, but as I grew older we grew distant," Quelten hesitates slightly over the phrasing.  "More distant with every passing day."

Quelten sighs.  "I blamed it on my own stupidity.  As I grew there was less and less time for 'play', for us to stay friends.  He was pulled more and more into training of the church, while I spent countless hours with each of my tutors."

"Take the wizard my family hired to tutor us about magic," Quelten smiles.  "I enjoyed his tutelage, but where my brothers were shooed gently out of his class in a mere seven or ten days, he kept me for the full two weeks of the contract.  They learned, as he put it, 'all they can learn of magic' in nearly half the time it took me.  Indeed, the wizard insisted that he still had so much more to teach me than them, but my father ordered, firmly, that the lessons stop," Quelten's voice drops a little deeper as he quotes, "'Beurdens are not wizards,' he said.  He sent me off to my religious tutor before continuing the conversation, but..."  Quelten shakes his head.

"And in truth, I didn't mind being sent on.  I was always jealous of Jeraul.  He was going to be allowed to become an acolyte, to serve Pelgrin personally in his temples, and possibly even in the field as a cleric.  I would never be granted that honor, and I knew it.  But I still loved the training I received.  I loved the many tales of Pelgrin I was required to learn, the rituals I was allowed to aid in."

Quelten sighs with a smile.  "Those classes and the services I was allowed to aid in, were the happiest times of my life.  It seems like from the day I was born, I yearned to serve the God of Warriors.  I enjoyed my martial training, but that was simply an extension of my love for my god."

Quelten touches his new holy symbol with a sigh.  "It still pains me to think I no longer serve him, to be honest.  But that love, that desire to serve, brings me to the point of my story."

*Jeraul and Father Helnan talked softly at the entrance to the chapel, but Quelten breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of the sacred incense.  They were supposed to be blessing the entrance, and Quelten would play along with that story, but he knew they were arguing.  It was not his place to interfere, say what he thought of the matter, or even have an opinion in the first place.  Which was good.  Jeraul was so angry these days, and Quelten was already hurt at how far apart they'd drifted.  Therefore, rather than tell Jeraul he was being an idiot, Quelten could let the dim, wan light of the early morning light his path to the back of the chapel, where the candles stood ready.  Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out flint and steel, and raised them up to the first candle.  Slowly, softly, reverently, he let the words of a prayer to Pelgrin roll off his tongue, then touched the candle as the ritual required.*

*Before he could lift his finger away from the candle, he felt something move inside himself.  Something stirred, and then moved through him, striking through his finger to touch the candle.  It felt like the clarion call of the bugle ordering an attack, like the trampling hooves of heavy cavalry charging, the ringing clang of metal upon metal as swords and shields met.  It was Pelgrin's power, made manifest, and for the briefest of moments he was a conduit between a vast, unimaginable reservoir of that power and the candle before him.*

*His eyes went out of focus for a moment, but when he recovered the light around the alter was no longer the dim, wan light of the earning morning sun.  The candle glowed with a bright white light instead of a yellow flame.  He heard the sudden silence at the entrance to the chapel and turned, confused by what had happened.*

*Father Helnan's mouth was wide open, and Jeraul looked almost as shocked.*

"Later I would tell myself that I hadn't seen what I thought I'd seen," Quelten almost cried.  "A moment of pure and utter *hatred*.  I convinced myself that I hadn't seen it, or if I had it was but the passing jealousy any man might find himself feeling when upstaged.  I didn't mean anything, and Jeraul would just have been embarrassed if I'd seen it."

"But the feast that night, when my family celebrated not only the holy day but the discover that Pelgrin had accepted me as a cleric, proved different."

Quelten hesitates, then looks at Eghas.  "But I think perhaps I need to explain something else, first."

"Some people are prejudiced against tieflings, thinking them evil simply because they are descended from demons.  My family knows better.  They tend towards evil, but much of that is because society has left them no other option.  Still, though, they tend towards evil, and a tiefling you do not know is a tiefling you must not trust."

"This we know for fact, and my cousin Shela'arin is proof," he says sadly.  "I call her cousin out of courtesy, and because my father would whip any of our family who denied her that status, but she is no blood to me.  She is my aunt's daughter, yes, but not my uncle's daughter, and she is proof of my family's first shame."

"I wish I could say she was the result of gentle seduction, or a wild, drunken mistake," Quelten says more harshly, looking at Eghas as if to challenge him.  "But we all know that she is something quite else.  Madam Euroa Ephonis, on the morning of her wedding, went to a meadow outside the castle for a final prayer to her god before marrying into our family.  It is a long and valued tradition, and so the Beurdens were thorough in insuring it's safety.  Our patrols were doubled and redoubled, though forbidden to come within sight or earshot of the clearing itself.  They even swept the clearing, ensuring that it was empty and safe for the bride and two of her bridesmaids."

"Unfortunately, they didn't sweep the forest *around* the clearing well enough.  A small band of rogues, lead by a tiefling, had hidden themselves in the branches.  They'd hoped to steal into the castle while we were distracted by the ceremony.  They hadn't dreamed that the bride would come out to visit them, bedecked in her jewelry."

Quelten looks down, clearly having a hard time with this part of the story.  "They struck swiftly, and with the cruelest of mercies.  Though they bruised and injured the bride's party, they carefully did not kill them.  But their tiefling leader was not content with taking just their jewelry.  He, and two of his fellows, took... liberties I will not discuss, one of them for each of the women they had captured.  The band was later caught and executed.  Though they plead that they had not killed, or even severely injured anyone, they were still all executed."

"Shela'arin was born nine months later, and within a year it was obvious who her father was," Quelten looked away from Eghas.  "Our families were firm on how she was to be treated.  She was our secret shame, but she was to be given every chance to grow up as good and as pure as she could be allowed to."

"She and I were close for years.  Then she started to complain about Jeraul's behavior towards her.  I..."  Quelten swallows and looks at his feet.  "I still idolized my brother.  I assured her he was just teasing her, jesting with her.  She quit mentioning it to me, and I assumed everything was fine.  I never noticed how she was wearing less and less revealing garments, assuming if I ever noticed anything that it was simply the approaching chill of winter that prompted this.  She always took a chill easier than I, and endured the heat with great pleasure."

"Then came the night of the feast."

"Jeraul vanished early on that night.  No one really noticed, or if they did they agreed with me that it was understandable.  The shield and warhammer meant for his birthday in a week were being presented to me, instead, as symbols of my new position.  By decree of the god himself, the third son was to take the place of the fourth as a spare."

"I enjoyed much of the feast, but soon needed a breath of fresh air.  No one objected to me taking a stroll along the battlements by myself, and I escaped with a bit of meat and a pastry."

"I heard a small sound.  Nothing that would carry, nothing I could hear clearly, but enough to make me curious.  I sought out it's source.  I found Shela'arin pinned against a wall, a hand over her mouth as Jeraul..."  Quelten's voice fails.  "I demanded he step away from her.  I *ordered* him, in the name of Pelgrin.  He turned, and the hatred I saw in his eyes..."  Quelten closes his eyes.  "I was armed.  He wasn't.  That was the only way I was able to control him, by using that fact to threaten him if he disobeyed.  I had to draw my new warhammer and hold it ready before he would listen.  I took both of them to father.  He was furious.  He was *beyond* fury.  Jeraul had attacked family, violated direct orders from the Lord Beurden, and 'ruined' the feast celebrating my becoming a cleric.  Worse yet was the stories of how long he'd been doing little, small things to Shela'arin.  Pinches.  Accidental 'spills' from a candle.  Worse things.  And that night..."

"I hadn't believed her first stories, and as things grew worse she simply stopped talking about them.  If I hadn't believed her about cutting words, how could she expect anyone to believe worse.  And her story of what Jeraul had threatened, what he'd planned to do that night..."  Quelten sighed.  "He was thrown in a cell, and lucky not to be slain on the spot.  Our family *protects* the virtue of it's women, it never plunders that virtue.  Never."

"The next morning he woke up with a hangover, and begged for mercy.  Swore it was the drink, and he'd never touch another drop.  He pleaded for a chance, *any* chance, to redeem his honor."

"Father left it to me to judge him, and I judged wrongly," Quelten sighed.  "He was due for a routine deployment to an outpost on the edge of the kingdom for a few weeks.  Instead of leading that deployment, he was sent along with several watchers, with the intent of leaving them there for years.  If I was to choose mercy, father insisted that it be *guarded* mercy.  And there was always the chance, however slight, that Jeraul might grow out of whatever had warped him."

"That did not prove to be the case," Quelten sobbed, tears running down his face.  "We lost contact with the outpost.  It failed to send it's daily reports, and I was sent to lead a patrol to find out what was happening.  We assumed the messengers were being waylayed en route.  But we found no signs of such.  Then we arrived at the outpost."

"The last survivor was eeking out his last breaths as I arrived.  He looked up, saw me, and smiled.  He'd been placed on a stake, then shoved down so it penetrated.  Tied and bound, he was left to wait days for death."

"My shock, my horror, was so much I didn't think to call upon Pelgrin until after the survivor had uttered his final words.  It took less than half a minute, and I'm not sure I could have saved him if I'd thought to try anyway.  I scrambled to his side and took my friend in my arms, and then he opened his mouth.  'He opened the gate,' he told me, trying to warn me.  Then he died.  The effort of speaking..."

Quelten dashed the tears away.  "He held on to his duty, determined to report.  Speaking released him from his pain," he said as if by route.  "Duty is heavier than a mountain, and death lighter than a feather."

"Counting my brother, there were twenty-seven men assigned to that outpost.  We buried twenty-six corpses.  As we searched for all the bits and pieces of those twenty six, we also found discarded orcish weaponry.  Broken daggers, splintered shields, split helms.  But no actual orcs.  'They dragged their dead off', we thought."

"My mercy lead to the death of twenty six men.  To the invasion of Old Port, apparently lead by my brother.  And therefore to our being here."

 

His eyes seek out Zemzellett, and he speaks even more softly.  "And now you know why I knew you were going to make a stupid mistake.  One I tried to make once, when I could not take Jaxton's loss."

[A.B]

"Your brother...he is probably either controlled by someone else by whatever means or is in the servitude of someone else but the grandmaster of all of this i Doubt he is." Elan'fal speaks up. "Don't feel guilty because of mercy Quelten...there's precious little in the world, you did good as per your conscience and I will help you find out what lies beneath all this....it may all be connected after all..." Elan'fal says to Quelten after listening to him, although the last part he whispered it under his breath.

[Zergrinch]

Zemzelett meets Quelten's gaze, nods, and spontaneously gives Quelten a hug.  It feels strange to be the hugger for once, instead of being the recipient of one. But it felt appropriate for that moment.  He feels himself tearing up as well, but manages to hide it from the cleric.

[Quelten]

As Quelten returns the hug, he looks at Elan'fal.  "Perhaps he has placed himself in service to evil, but if so he chose to place himself there.  I don't believe him to be 'controlled', however, not for an instant.  Control would have resulted in a sudden, sharp change.  Not a slow, gradual fall into darkness."

 

Quelten turns back to the hug for a moment, then quickly pulls himself loose.  "Now, what is this about a play?" he asks.

[A.B]

"Even so...my friend, the shame falls not upon you, especially not for showing mercy to your own flesh and blood...I will help you if I can to uncover the plot in which Jeraul is mixed in and clear your family's name." Elan'fal says to Quelten. "But I agree with Zem...I am famished for something warm."

[Zergrinch]

"I'll tell you all about it during breakfast," Zemzelett says, as he leads Elan'fal, Innil, and Quelten to the communal table, to finally partake of the first hot meal they had in months.

 

And he tells them about it, via Private Message.  After Breakfast, Zem has his interaction with Elan'fal, and then he goes off to market to do some transactions.

[Kyle Aarons]

breakfast is DWARVEN, right down to Ale being served as the main drink!

 

The meal is heavy, meat, potatos, eggs, cheese. From what you can tell the whole village shows up and eats as a group with tables seprating groups of families in a way none of you can fully understand. There is a pair of guest tables, one of which you are seated at, the otherhas a group of kids from ages of about human age of 4 to about 13, with most being in the 8-10 year range. The table they are at is tended by an elderly female Dwarf and a pair of younger Dwarves not quite old enough to start working as adults.

 

There is some food set aside for a gourp of guards that man the walls during the meal, so they can eat, but once the tables are cleared but a group of 8 Dwarves in chains and being guarded, the whole village gets to work or goes to bed. The miners who worked at night move to a small steep staircase built into the stone wall and go to an upper level you hadn't noticed before. You can't hlep but notice the "night shift" tends to be younger Dwarves who are for the most part single and just starting out in "adult Life" except for a few older Dwarves who are almost too certainly frail to be doing digging, but probably well seasonsed in keeping an eye on the work and making sure things are done properly in the mines.

 

The other thing you all realize is this village is quite a bit larger than it looks from the outside. There are at least 700 dwarves in this enclave and a great many of them live in the upper level and work the night shift. There is also a small group of Copper Dragon Kind. You see 43 in total including femals and some young. Most of them are in the guards, but one of the trhee forges in the village is run by a Copper Dragon-kind.

 

It only takes thrity minutes from teh time the meal finishes before the row of shops open and the day in the village begins in ernest.

[Zergrinch]

Slightly tipsy from the brew and having just split off from Elan'fal, Zemzelett brushes aside all thought about runes and hums a merry dwarven tune as he goes shopping.

 

♪ Heigh ho, heigh ho

It's off to shop I go

To buy some gifts

Perhaps a mule

Heigh ho, heigh ho, heigh ho,

Heigh ho, heigh ho

It's off to shop I go

I'll sell this viol

And this rock too

Heigh ho, heigh ho. ♫

 

Already formulating plans on how to best hawk his wares, the half-elf looks around for a vacant spot in the marketplace to park the wagon, and resolves to seek permission from Car'sel to perform a skit and sell the goods that afternoon.

 

Note: Already PMed purchase options to Kyle.

Song Butchered: Heigh Ho chorus

[Guest]

Abram quickly secures some new bolts for the crossbow and some more rations for to restock and then begins questioning everyone he can about Daren the Cunning. The More intel the better. As soon as he spot eghas he draws him into a private conversation. He waves Elan'fal and D'Narenth over as well.

   

"I know everyone wants to rest but the trail is getting cold fast. My advice is we move out as soon as possible. Dalest is already at least one day ahead of us."

[A.B]

Elan'fal buys a compound bow from the market for (whatever price he can afford one) and grabs his stuff.

 

"I am ready to depart." He says.

[Quelten]

Quelten checks the half-plate the party has looted for fit.  If it doesn't fit -- or if another party member wants it -- he'll shop around for chain mail, the heaviest armor he can effectively wear in combat until he grows up a little more.  He also tries to sell the three gems he picked up (Jasper, Lapis Lazuli, and Pyrite).

[Jeikor]

Innil helps Zemzelett set up then takes the lute he got as a share of the loot and starts looking around. He would like to trade it for a flute or if he can't find a flute just sell it and use the money to buy more supplies. But what do they need? There are plenty of arrows in the loot, he has a superior grade sword and his longbow; Innil really doesn't need anything else. Maybe something for Zem or one of the others. He'll just keep his eyes open.

[Zergrinch]

Having finished his shopping, and feeling his pockets considerably lighter, the half-elf uses the horses to draw the wagon to the spot where Car'Sel has allowed him to set up shop.  The kind elf fighter was on hand to help.  After taking a comprehensive inventory, the half-elf espies the chest that D'Naranth had placed the wagon in his full view the night before.  Feeling foolish that he never bothered to open it, Zemzelett does so now.  

 

His eyes widen upon seeing the contents of the chest, for it contains unimaginable riches and tens of thousands of platinum coin that would allow him to live like a merchant prince for the rest of his days, should he wish to do so!  He takes 1,000 platinum coins from it, and gives the rest of the remaining coin to Eghas.

 

Going back to the task at hand, the half-elf sets aside various gear which the party might be able to use, and other gear which will just weigh them down.  He replaces his two remaining daggers with a pair of better-quality daggers from the camp.  In the "useful" pile, he places the following (which, alas he can't carry at all):

1. All contents of D'Narenth's chest
2. Ten-foot pole (for dungeon exploration, very useful for poking at things, the half-elf thinks)
3. All magic potions (x5), oils (x3) and scrolls (x3)
4. Alchemist's supplies (Zemzelett has overheard the sorcerer profess a desire to brew up potions earlier)
5. 2 sets of healing kits (extra healing is always helpful, the half-elf muses, as Barett is no longer traveling with the party)
6. Superior longbow (which he felt the kindly fighter or sorcerer would find useful)
7. 3 riding saddles (for himself and two others, as riding on a bare horse's back isn't too kind to his behind)
8. 2 empty sacks (to carry any kind of loot in)
9. 1 glasscutter (in case they needed to cut into glass)
10. 1 grappling hook (in case they needed to climb)
11. 2 sets of manacles (in case they manage to take prisoners)
12. 1 crowbar (in case they needed to pry anything open)

Then Zemzelett divides the "non-useful pile" into several piles.  

1. Melee Weapons
2. Ranged Weapons, including ammunication
3. Armor
4. Clothing ("Alluring Attire")
5. Everyday items ("Delightful Doodads")
6. Foodstuff ("Enjoyable Edibles")
7. Trinkets ("Sweet Sentimentals")
8. Adventuring Gear ("Superlative Supplies")

Whistling while he works, the half-elf scrawls the following lists on the side of the wagon with a piece of chalk in the Dwarven language:

 

Armor, Weapons and Ammunition

 

Everything Else

 

After the mid-day meal, the Half-Elf intends to stage his skit while roping as many party members as he possibly can to aid his performance, and sell off the goods.  Any unsold goods at the end of the day, he plans to donate to the orphanage of Vindayin in the name of the boys.

[Eghas]

Assuming that Eghas can afford it, he has spent the day making sure the boys have everything they need to stay here and continue their training.  everything from clothing, to weapons and gear, to food.  he makes sure that the people that run the orphanage are agreeable to the boys staying, and that the other kids there are well taken care of.  he can't help but slipping the people in charge a little extra coin to help out the orphanage as a whole.  He then takes some time to make sure all of his gear is in good shape.  gets his armor repaired if needed, and refills his arrows.  he also makes sure to get some extra that he can carry on his horse. 

[Kyle Aarons]

Shopping... the bane of existence for any good adventuring party....

 

It take you all a few hours of shopping to rid yourselves of excess. The dwarves are friendly enough, but man, are they ever judgmental about what they are going to pay, and every nick in a blade is noticed, even by the apprentices in the shops. However, much of the stuff you managed to get here with was supplies wanted and they give you good prices for the grains, the spices, the figs, and much of the other stuff so it pretty much works out as a decent amount of coins. They really aren't that interested in the gemstones, however, since the one thing this village lacks is a gem worker and fluff like jewelry simply isn't something you see much of.

 

The other problem is finding a cart or a wagon. Since several have been hit and none have come in recently, they have none they are willing to sell. But any of you who need a horse they can provide one (light ridding only) cost for each is 75 Asps per horse you want: you can buy up to 5 saddle will cost an extra 10 Asps each and bags will cost an extra 12 Asps per horse.

 

However, for the head of the spellcasting Gnoll and the other heads you brought, they do offer something of consequence. The offer a +1 magical light mace and a +1 hand axe.

 

all told you end up with 84 Adders (Bronze), 98 Vipers (copper), 578 Asps (silver), 38 Corals (gold), and 2 Cobras (Platinum) along with the +1 light mace and +1 hand axe.

 

The five boys, since they all have some training, are taken into the orphanage, but also told they will be working extensively with the Dragon-kin as apprentice guards, but honoring the codes of laws in the village elders will be a big part of how far the Dragon-kin will work with them. They will also have to spend a three hours a day in language lessons. At least this way they will not have to do the more menial work the rest of the orphans have to do, like help set things for the morning and evening meals.

 

The orphanage tenders accept the help and are grateful for any extra supplies "donated".

 

Finally, the Dragon-kin forge worker is able to identify the amulets you took off the Goblings. "Them are amulets of command. They are tied to a control item of some kind. The wearer must follow the simple command given to him by the being with the control item. Those are all but worthless without the controlling magical piece and don't put them on. Only the person with the controlling item can take them off once they are put on unless you die or have a very powerful spell caster who can remove a curse."

 

"The art of making them are all but lost, but they were used by the Lords of Paralarm to force captives to fight each other in gladiatorial games centuries ago, before the Lords of Paralarm split in a terrible war. Some even claim some of the Lords used those amulets of command to make other Lords fight each other then, once they were weakened, took their lands. No one knows for sure the truths behind such legends though. All I can tell you no control item, according to what I have heard, can control more then 10 amulets.

 

Eghas, it is during this time in the orphanage, that one of the two boys who do no know the language of this area actually comes to you. At first he says nothing, but does drop to a knee while his how body seems to tremble slightly with fear. As you lean close to try to assure him you are not a monster or something, he speaks very softly in Infernal. (see your PM's   ) 

[Zergrinch]

Having assembled the party, Zemzelett briefs them on their upcoming roles. Once introduced and pointed to, they will perform for the crowd, with the physical fighters flexing their muscles and the spellcaster go through the motions of casting a spell and pointing fingers at imaginary targets.

Once everything is in readiness, the half elf uses his minor illusion cantrip to create a booming voice, speaking in Dwarven, to call for everyone's attention:

"Ladies and gentledwarves, boys and girls, come hither, as I present to you... Zemzelett's Zone of Fascinating Flummery!"

Altering his cantrip to create an orchestral accompaniment for himself, the half elf signals to Reinlor and Talarc to begin creating magical illumination with their respective cantrips. Taking out his newly-acquired dulcimer, the half elf begins to perform a patter song he composed that very morning.

We are the very model of a team of brave adventurers!

We trekked the Swamp of Bones to save five lads from cruel deaths or worse.

A magic storm transported us a thousand miles, or more, we fear.

A pack of gnolls attacked us, but we beat them back and now we're here.

 

Zemzelett shoots a look at Reld, indicating that his turn is coming up soon and he should start hamming it up for the audience.

Behold! Today, I introduce to you the members of our team.

Some may not look so tough but, trust me, they are stronger than they seem.

First up is Reld the Trooper, he first killed a man when he was ten.

He was a slave, but now is free. He's stronger than most full-grown men.

 

The half-elf recasts his Minor Illusion to now echo the chorus with a quartet:

He was a slave, but now is free. He's stronger than most full-grown men.

He was a slave, but now is free. He's stronger than most full-grown men.

He was a slave, but now is free. He's stronger than most fully grown-up men!

 

Zemzelett takes a moment to catch his breath, and nods at Vorador for him to start his performance.

Here's Vorador, an orphan. He's got power you have never seen.

His Eldritch Blast has felled so many foes, you could say it's obscene.

We may be young, we may be raw. We come from backgrounds so diverse.

We are the very model of a team of brave adventurers!

 

The half-elf points to Eghas, Elan'fal, and Quelten, indicating their turn to preen.  He trusts Innil, who understands Dwarvish, to know when it's his cue to move.

Our leader, Eghas, speaks quite softly, but he wields a good-sized stick.

He can shoot off a magic blast or fire an arrow real quick.

Don't cross the elf Elan'fal, fearsome power crackles from his hand.

He summons firebolts, rays of frost, and acid splashes on demand.

Innil Siannodel's tough as nails. Inside him beats a heart of gold.

There is no kinder fighter, or a friend when his full trust you hold.

Our cleric,Quelten Beurden of Beurden, don't be fooled by his age.

No one fights with more zeal or courage when his honor you enrage.

 

Pausing again to take his breath, the Minor Illusion spell is recast again to echo Zemzelett's last line:

No one fights with more zeal or courage when his honor you enrage.

No one fights with more zeal or courage when his honor you enrage.

No one fights with more zeal or courage when his family's honor you enrage!

 

Beaming to the audience, the half-elf hands his dulcimer to Vorador as he introduces himself by doing a series of cartwheels and acrobatic leaps:

I'm Zemzelett the Acrobatic, I'm the weakest one of all.

I'm sure without their aid in battle, I will be the first to fall.

We may be young, we may be raw. We come from backgrounds so diverse.

We're still the very model of a team of brave adventurers!

Taking back his dulcimer, Zemzelett motions towards D'Naranth and Reinlor, trusting Abram to understand enough Dwarvish to know he is being introduced.

D'Naranth is a scary foe. He can let loose a breath of cold,

In battle, he's implacable. He fights with rage barely controlled.

The fighter Abram's got a mission to bring justice to bad guys.

And any evil that opposes him in combat simply dies.

Here's Melirel Vackman, a rogue in training, almost fully-trained.

Proficient with all projectiles, he helped me out when I was pained.

Young cleric, Reinlor Kelderhand, can heal as well as he can shoot

While he was hurt, he patched me up, when I shot myself in the foot.

The illusionary chorus again echoes the half-elf as he removes his boots to show his fully-healed foot to the crowd:

While he was hurt, he patched me up, when I shot myself in the foot.

While he was hurt, he patched me up, when I shot myself in the foot.

While he was hurt, he patched me up, when I shot crossbow bolts into my foot!

 

Hastily stuffing his shoe back in his foot, Zemzelett soldiers on, starting to become fatigued with the song's lightning-quick verses.

Luth Therkod fights with arrows, he's got swiftness and dexterity,

In just a few short years, he'll be a champion. That, I'll guarantee.

We may be young, we may be raw. We come from backgrounds so diverse.

We hope that we can be a model team of brave adventurers!

 

Finally unable to continue at his previous speed, Zemzelett finally ramps down the tempo considerably as he launches into the last stanza of his skit.  Before starting, he winks and nods at Talarc and Gothan, the last two who have not yet been introduced.

Talarc Sokyeth's a nobleman, his magic power lies inside.

Wild magic courses through his veins,in battle, he could turn the tide.

The last, but not the least, is trainee wizard Gothan Osenlend,

When he takes out his book, with just one word, most battles he can end.

 

Turning to the crowd, he gestures towards the wagon, effecting the mannerism of a personable traveling salesman who once visited the Cantertrot Performance Troupe.  By the time the glib fellow was done, everyone's pockets had been considerably lightened.

And now that all of us have just been introduced to all of you.

There is a favor that will help us, which I hope for us you'll do.

Behold, in front of you, lies all the battle spoils that we have won.

Please buy them now, and buy them all. Come, don't be shy, we need them gone.

 

For the final time, Zemzelett recasts Minor Illusion to add a choral background to his orchestra:

Please buy them now, and buy them all. Come, don't be shy, we need them gone.

Please buy them now, and buy them all. Come, don't be shy, we need them gone.

Please buy them now, and buy them all. Come, don't be shy, we need all of them gone!

 

Finally getting his breath back, the half-elf finishes strongly by resuming his previously fast patter, as he begs the audience to buy the goods.

We'll use the proceeds from today to mount a rescue at the pass.

To save the prisoners and end the threat of bandit gnolls at last.

Yes, we are young, and we are raw. We come from backgrounds so diverse.

Please help us to become a model team of brave adventurers!

 

Deciding to finish with a flourish, the Half-Elf casts Faerie Fire on the wagon and himself.  He glows with a greenish tinge just as he ends with "Brave Adventurers".  The half-elf takes a bow, motioning everyone else in the party to do so as well, as the young performer basks in the applause he hasn't heard since the gnolls attacked Old Port.

 

Song butchered: "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General"

[Zergrinch]

The Half-Elf tallies all the proceeds from the successful sale, and adds the number of coin to the kobald chest D'Naranth donated to the group.  In all, he counts 203 bronze, 120 copper, 594 silver, 38 gold, and 2 platinum coins.
 
The half-elf takes his share of 20 bronze, 12 copper, 38 silver, and 2 gold coins and brings the rest of the coins to Eghas, who was in the orphanage talking to a scared-looking boy in a language he doesn't understand.  Patiently waiting until they are done talking, Zemzelett goes to Eghas and hands over to him the remainder of the coin, figuring that Eghas will take charge of keeping the group's funds and distributing the remainder in a fair and equitable fashion.
 
For your reference, this is my accounting of the coin distribution and the balance of the group funds, which is being held by Eghas.  I am still including Barett here because he was in the party when the sold spoils were accumulated.

 
"Sir Eghas, if I may be so bold as to make a few suggestions?  One tends to pick up a few things when living with a traveling troupe." the half-elf says in a business-like fashion.  In truth, the half-elf hasn't warmed up to the reclusive tiefling as he has with the rest of the party.  He can't really decide whether it is due to some lingering fear of Eghas' demonic appearance, or because of the harsh way he treated Quelten earlier in the morning.  

 

Not that Eghas was wrong, he admits to himself.  But given Quelten's young age and tremendous stress, some of which was the tiefling's fault, the half-elf was wont to be more tolerant with the cleric for a time.

 

"Sir Eghas," the half elf continues in Antargeth, "I've kept three riding saddles from our spoils, but there are nine of us in total, so perhaps we can buy the five saddles they have available.  D'Naranth does not have a mount, so I am thinking we should buy one riding horse for him so we can travel faster without overloading our mounts.  Saddlebags may not be a bad idea either.  We might also want to buy some animal feed, in case we can't find any good grass for them to eat. In all, this should cost 233 silver coins to buy a horse, 5 saddles, and 9 saddlebags. The cost of feed should be negligible - 5 bronze per day per mount; we shouldn't need more than 5 days' worth per mount, I don't think, for less than half a silver."
 
"Also," the half-elf adds, "There is a set of woodworking tools that perhaps we can use to repair the wagon?  They don't seem to sell any here, and the one we have can be useful if we are able to patch it up. It will be the best place to put all the feed we'd be bringing along."
 
Zemzelett pivots as if to leave, but relents and hands over the gobling control amulet.  "After hearing what it does, I don't want to keep this with me. Maybe we destroy it, or perhaps use the enchantment to trace where the bad guy with the control device is?"

 

Before leaving the room, the half-elf scratches his head, and asks Eghas, "Sir Eghas, if you have the gnoll wizard's spellbook with him and have no use further for the spells, could you consider giving it to Gothan?  He is actually the only one who can actually put it to use, sir, unless we would like to sell it instead."
 

---

The exertions of the past two days has weighed on the half elf.  Eating the rest of the cheese wedge and bread he cut out the night before, he tracks down the boys who were moving their belongings into the orphanage.  Zemzelett calls their attention, and approaches the group with a melancholic look on his face.
 
"Reinlor," the half-elf smiles broadly, "You did great work.  My foot is good as new.  I know you'll be a great cleric some day.  I know you are used to better," he says as he hands over a package to the boy, "But I would like to thank you with this!".  The package contained a set of fine shoes the half-elf bought in the market earlier.
 
"Gothan," he turns to speak to the wizard-in-training, "I have something for you too.  I want to see a completely filled-up spellbook when we return!"  Zemzelett presents the quill pen and fine inks purchased earlier to the boy, and gives him a wink indicating that he wasn't serious about the full spellbook.
 
Finally, he turns to the rogue and his mood becomes more somber. "Melirel, I wish we could bring you with us - we could sure use someone with a sneak attack!  But this is a dangerous land, and so we must defer to Abram and D'Naranth's advice. You will be safe here. But don't worry, once we find a way back home, We WILL be back to pick you up. I swear this on my honor.  Until then, take care of yourself and your team."
 
Blinking back the sad tears that are starting to form on the overly-emotional bard's eyes, Zemzelett hugs the boys and trudges back to his quarters.  He spends the rest of the day attempting to read the four spell scrolls they captured the previous night.  If he is unable to decipher it (if the spell isn't on the bard spell list) he will pass the scrolls on to Quelten.

 

After that, he will read more of Pevel's diary, and go to sleep early.  The half-elf is confident he's made the proper preparations. He has already placed the three saddles on the mounts belonging to himself, Vorador, and Quelten; he has also packed and should be ready to depart after breakfast tomorrow if the need arises!

[A.B]

"Car' Sel , I would be obliged if you could tell me where to sell this toy sword and where I can buy a bow." Elan'fal asks the man.

[Kyle Aarons]

Car' Sel responds to you, "My boy would like that toy, and I will buy it for a direct exchange for a finely crafted bow I captured some years back. (superior Long Bow)

[A.B]

Elan'fal nods his affirmation to the man and hands him the toy sword.

[Jeikor]

Innil nods to Elan'fal then turns to Car'sel, "Do you know where I might find a flute for sell or trade in this town?"

[Kyle Aarons]

There are some wood craftsmen capable of making flutes or other instruments. My cousin's forge could make one out of metal, but it would take time and not be cheap.

[Zergrinch]

Before heading off by himself to his room, Zemzelett approaches Car'Sel, salutes him, and then talks to him in Dwarven.

"Sir Car'Sel, we found this cracked pearl in the camp yesterday. I asked Reinlor to mend it, but the spell didn't succeed. Do you know why?"

The Half-elf shows the cleric his cracked pearl, and continues with his purpose.

"The reason I want to fix it is to use it as the focus for an Identify spell, and I am not sure if the crack will cause the spell to fail. You see, we have quite a bit of unidentified magic items, Sir."

[Eghas]

Eghas sighs to himself before he speaks.  "Abram, D'naranth.  Would i be able to speak with you both.... privately."

 

The small group then moved off to the side to speak for a long while.