taking stock

Neth 8, 4719 - Beneath Citadel Altaerein

A massive wooden table dominates the room that once was a part of the dungeons of Citadel Altaerein. Around it sit the various members of the keep: Rorsk, Helba, Warbal, Nketiah, and Renali. The strange group shift in their seats as creaks echo throughout the damp, chill basement.

Finally, Rorsk clears his throat and shuffles a loose collection of papers between his hands. "Aye, well, there's a lot ta go over. It's been quiet here in Breachill since you lot were gone, but there are still a few things ta take care of." He slides a small scrap of paper across the table to you. It reads:

• 5 packages of phosphorous
• 2 packages of realgar
• 6 vials of urea (doe)
• 1 crate of black powder
• 3 as of yet unspecified crates from Posandi Bros. Stoneworking

"Tha's a short list o' things that have turned up missin' in town while ye were gone. Are ye seein' the same pattern that I'm seein'? I mislike the looks of a thief who goes around takin' alchemical ingredients." He leans back in his chair and it gives a loud crack as the wood splinters beneath him. "Tha's another thing. We don't have any expenses ta take care of at th' moment, but we could use a good gold infusion to fix things up around here. This place is old and still has a lot of work tha' needs to be done." He consulted an ink-stained parchment. "Th' battlements are in a sorry shape, as well as th' stairs leadin' up ta them. We've also got a few holes in th' walls tha' jus' about anyone coulda snuck through! We're damn lucky th' goblins didn't make it up to the Citadel." He composes himself before adding, "We could also do for some general repairs: new furnishings, carpets, an' th' like."

Rorsk spreads his hands wide over the table and gives you all a reassuring grin. "However, I'm startin' ta feel like I hitched me cart ta th' right pony here. I'm happy ta stay on as yer seneschal while yer away." Before you can say anything he adds, "No need ta worry about payin' me right now. We can settle tha' matter later."

Helba raises her hand, as though she were in a classroom for children. Behind her, Warbal beams and gives you a look that says 'I taught her that.' When you acknowledge the goblin chieftain, she stands directly on the table, negating both the effect of the raised hand and the smile on Warbal's face. "We got problems," she said bluntly. "Oof! Big ol' problems. Fim big chieftain in these parts. Now she dead and goblins fight for power. Get real nasty, real ugly, real quick. Helba has seen it all before." She shakes her head ruefully as she paces across the table, scattering Rorsk's notes. "So, Helba is wondering... what we do about that?" She throws her hands in the air in a wildly exaggerated shrug and then stomps back to her seat. "Oh!" she adds before climbing down. "That was Helba's presentation. Thank you for listening." Warbal has buried her face in her hands. You think you can hear swearing.

Nketiah is trying her hardest not to laugh at the goblin's antics, but her resolve is breaking. Renali nudges the half-elf in the ribs and she starts as though she just remembered something. "Ah, yes, yes... Honorable members of the Bear tribe-" Rorsk's eyes snap up suddenly, confused. "-there is much here that our peoples can mutually benefit from. I have spoken with Ambassador Renali here-" Renali bows slightly at the title that you are almost assured that she made up for herself. "-and we would like to broker some trade agreements between our two lands. There may even be some opportunity for cultural exchange between this land and Mwangi."

[In game terms, Breachill has increased its settlement level, from 4 to 6. This means that more items are for sale (up to level 6, possibly 8) and that there are more job opportunities.]

"Aye, well," Rorsk alternates between staring aghast at Helba and confounded by the two Mwangi women. "We have more somber news ta deal with. There were sixteen dead from th' attack yesterday with eight missin'. Among th' number o' missin' is Greta Gardania." His brows knit together and you can tell that the willful dwarf is trying to hide his tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. "I know tha' ya have some sort o'... relationship with 'er, Wrin. Regardless, th' rest o' the council will take over her duties until she is found." He tugs at his beard and shuffles his foot-print covered papers. "We're havin' a ceremony for th' dead tonight in Monument Circle. I think tha' th' people would like it if you all spoke a few words."

The rest of the table looks to you all about what to do next.