One of my players made two characters and was not sure which one he wanted to play. We played out their journeys to Brindol in chat so he could get a feel for each of them.
SS 2017
Upon getting to know the city of Dun, Garrick Balerion was surprised to learn that one of the three great houses, House Grosh, was founded by an orc and consisted primarily of orcs and half-orcs to this day. Dun had found an uneasy peace with them, and they controlled many of the industries that other folk would rather not, such as the quarries. They also controlled the mint.
Growing up, Garrick knew orcs only as boogey-men on par with goblins and ghouls. More intelligent than either, but therefore more dangerous. His master, Sir Uhtred Goodwin, explained that those stories were merely prejudices; relics from a time when orcs eschewed society and humans thought them irredeemably evil. Back when they killed each other on sight.
Garrick worried his ancestral sword, Orc Razor, would prove problematic in this society, but Sir Uhtred assured him that none would recognize its provenance unless they studied it closely and spoke the old tongues.
---
SS 2020-22
A story spread around Dun of a group of peasants from Slanawall who came to town with more money than any peasant ought to have and bought up a building near the quarry district. They proceeded to ingratiate themselves to the nobility. House Grosh knighted one of them, an orc named Kagan, and bestowed upon him a special title: The Tusk of Grosh.
When the bellman of the church was murdered during an act of espionage, the killers demanded a trial by combat. House Ciarran chose Kagan as the city's champion for the trial and it was well known throughout the city that he brought the ruthless murderer to his knees in one mighty blow. But then things started to happen.
They left the city and came back weeks later with a gaggle of grey-skinned dwarves and stories of an adamantium mine they were reclaiming in the mountains. Not long after, they went off into the Draw Weal, from which no man has returned, and came back with fantastical stories of a magic harp and averting the end of the world.
They were lauded for their adventures. But not long after their home exploded into a giant demon who rampaged through the quarry district. Kagan was defeated in single combat by another orc named Erwent, who became the new Tusk of Grosh. When Kagan fell, House Grosh underwent a small change of leadership.
Meanwhile the grey dwarves began their own church, the Church of Gomeric the Just. It became fashionable to have dwarf friends, and soon the church had a sizable congregation. They preached that the opportunists from Slanawall had attempted genocide against the duergar, who were the rightful owners and occupants of the adamantium mine. The dwarf from Slanawall, Thearch, they claimed was a human at heart and a collaborator in their crimes.
Not long after that, the whole bunch of them disappeared, probably off on another adventure.
---
SS 2022
With the Hawkshaws poking around, Gerard fled Terredebeau. As Emile Jean-Claude, he created a pretext to leave the kingdom—he was searching for a lost artifact he found referenced in an ancient text—and headed west into the human lands. He believed them to be a savage, chaotic species, and felt it would be easier to disappear into their madness than somewhere orderly and intelligible like Terredebeau.
At first he traveled aimlessly, suspecting there was little they had from which he could learn. But he began to hear stories of a wizard named Ambrose the Red, who taught at the College of Brindol.
If anyone had worthwhile knowledge for Gerard, surely it would be he.
He packed up Frites, his donkey, and headed south.
---
SS 2022 Emerald 19
The city of Dun was beset with civil strife. Everyone expected House Æthelflæd and House Ciarran to clash over the issue of Succession, but House Grosh's sudden seizure of the castle started an all-out war. These were the political concerns of great houses—the poor were ground between them like so much grist.
Politics were none of Sir Garrick Balerion’s concern. The Knights Hospitaller treated all who came to their doors.
One such visitor was a messenger from Averill Bancroft, the city tax collector. He stopped by for supplies and medicinals before running north to bring a message to the dam. Not the type to maintain confidences, the messenger explained Sir Kagan the Wild, Champion of Dun, had sent word to Bancroft that a monstrous army marched upon the Elsir Vale, and would soon set upon Brindol to siege and destroy it.
Sir Garrick felt called by this crisis, as though Baiste were summoning him to prove his mettle. He confided as much to Sir Uhtred. The wizened knight studied Garrick's face for a long moment.
"Then you must go, my squire."
Sir Garrick's heart leapt.
"My saga has been written, and now even its epilogue draws to a close. You must pen your own tale. Quest. Spread Baiste's goodness to Brindol, and to wherever He takes you beyond."
---
Spring had fully gripped the landscape by the time Emile was riding toward Dun on his way to Brindol. Nature's beauty was a stark contrast to the sullen, ugly orc soldiers who blockaded the road to inspect "traveling papers."
While they questioned the farmers in front of him, Emile silently and subtly pulled magic from the air to dirty up his clothing. Then it was his turn.
"Hail, traveler. Lord Śaumo of House Grosh welcomes you to Dunshire. If you be friend to our kingdom. Please present your travelling papers."
Emile slumped in his saddle, trying to look as disheveled as possible. "I'm sorry my good boy. I was accosted by some ruffians on the road here. I think they took my papers."
"What foul fortune,” the orc rumbled sympathetically. “Where are you coming from, and where are you going?" He seemed bored in his duties, but interested in the prospect of ruffians and strange elf wizards.
"I hail from Douane, and I am travelling to Brindol. My son moved there some months ago, and I decided to give him a visit. We used to be so close, but I haven't heard from him. I am worried."
"If you will follow Arjuna, he will bring you into the city to get your papers squared away. They will want to hear all about your ruffians, as well, so they can put a stop to them."
"I am happy to do so, but is there a faster way through? I may not have impressed upon you how uncharacteristic it is for my son not to write me. I imagine it could only be trouble."
"I am afraid not sir—travelling papers are a necessity. But Arjuna can be encouraged to help . . . expedite your situation."
"Of course of course,” the elf replied. He added in a curmudgeonly tone, “I don't have too much mind you, as those ruffians took much I had of value, but I'm no dolt. I understand how the world works . . ."
The orc summoned another of his kind—presumably Arjuna—who leads Emile down the road into a city clearly ruled by chaos. Wagons went hither and thither without pattern or purpose. Everyone was tense and no one seemed happy, but the business of life must continue. The civil planning was very human, with churches and public houses frequently breaking up the storefronts and homes, and a loud, smelly open-air market.
Next to this sat a squat, garrison-like building where Arjuna led Emile. He tied up Frites outside and followed Arjuna in, keeping a paranoid eye on everything and anything that might be "out of place," such as he could tell in an unfamiliar city.
The two guards at the door gestured Emile in without incident. Once inside the door, Arjuna stopped, turned to Emile, and stared expectantly.
Emile made a show of patting his pockets down, scrambled coins from several different places, and put six gold coins into her hand. "They didn't leave me with much, dear lady. I just wish to see my son again and put this whole kerfuffle behind me. Please..."
Arjuna snorted, but it did not hide her wide eyes or her brief moment of surprise. Evidently Emile was more generous than he intended.
"This way,” she said, before adding, “Please." She walked further into the building.
Arjuna led Emile down a few hallways to a sparse waiting area. There was a tastefully simple rug, some chairs, and a pious-looking young man in a simple tunic with a red cross on a white background.
"Wait here," she said, before walking through the next door.
Emile gave the young man a nod and sat, keeping watch on his surroundings. He got the sense that this was probably run-of-the-mill bureaucracy, but he remained alert.
---
As Sir Garrick sat waiting to be seen about the travelling papers necessary to go from Dun to Brindol, a half-orc woman entered the waiting area from the outside, followed by an elven man in purple robes. The woman gestured to the elf to sit and said, "Wait here," before going through the next door.
The elf nodded, and Sir Garrick nodded in return. "Blessings of Baiste, friend." Garrick noticed the dirty disheveled nature of the man's clothes. "Trouble on the roads? Are you coming from Brindol?"
Emile eyed Garrick suspiciously. "Just had some ruffians think they could pick on a simple traveler. My donkey, Frites, managed to scare them away. He's fearsome. And loyal."
"Ah! The loyalty of a companion animal is not to be taken lightly. My horse Brutus has saved my life on countless occasions."
"Indeed,” Emile replied, uninterested. “Have you been waiting long? I had hoped to be on my way rather quickly."
"Of course. Not too long. I intend to make haste out of Dun as well. It seems there has been a spot of trouble in Brindol. I intend to make my way there to see if I can help." Garrick looked around, feeling a sense of impatience but trying to hide it.
"Brindol? What trouble?" Emile asked, almost impatiently.
"Hobgoblins have been sighted heading there by the thousands. I hope to aid in the city's defense."
"Thousands . . ." Emile said under his breath. His thoughts wandered.
"Indeed. I hope that not to be your destination friend. If you're looking for safety, Brindol isn't the place. At least for a time."
Emile thought to himself for a moment. If there is a battle there, there will likely be looting and chaos. If Ambrose the Red is dead, perhaps I can sneak in to loot what knowledge can be found. If not, then a huge battle might be just the kind of chaos to throw the Hawkshaws off my scent.
"It seems I should alter my plans then. Thank you, young man."
"Happy to help," the paladin replied.
Arjuna re-entered before exiting back out toward the road, without saying a word.
"Dear—" Emile said as she passed. But she did not stop.
A moment later the interior door opened and a half-orc stuck out his head. "You," he said, pointing to Emile.
Emile half-jumped to his feet, betraying his forced calm. "Still jumpy from the attack," he said with a half-hearted smile and slight chuckle.
"Understandable,” Sir Garrick replied. “Good luck in your travels."
Emile stood the rest of the way up and walked towards the half-orc.
"Yes?," said Emile, expectantly.
The orc stepped back into the room and held the door open for Emile to follow. Emile followed.
The orc sat at a table and gestured to the opposite chair. Emile took a seat.
"Expedited travelling papers," the orc grumbled. "What'syer name?"
"Emile Jean-Claude. Looking to pass through towards Brindol."
"Towards Brindol, or TO Brindol?"
"To."
"There's rumors Brindol is at war," he muttered. "But that's your funeral. How many escorts will you need?"
"Just my humble donkey, Frites. I'm hoping to take the scenic route. Can't afford any escorts for that long."
"'Snogood,” the orc replied. “'Snot safe. You'll hire one of our guys, unless you've gotyer own."
"I assure you it would be better for me to travel alone,” Emile responded. “But if it makes you feel any better, I know the young gentleman outside is going in the same direction. I could travel with him, should he agree. Seems the pious sort, I'm sure he'd agree."
The orc snorted derisively. "Pups." He rose and opened the door. "You goin'ta Brindol?" he asked Sir Garrick.
"Yes, sir," said Garrick, standing and putting his hands to his sides.
The half-orc bureaucrat waved Sir Garrick into the room as he sat back down at the table. "Name?"
Sir Garrick followed him in, slowing slightly as he saw the elf still sitting at the table. He sat next to them and said, "Sir Garrick Balerion, sir. Of the Order of Baiste."
"Baiste. Humbug,” harumphed the half-orc. “You'll escort this . . ." he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Emile, "elf to Brindol?"
Garrick looked to his left, a flash of horror on his face. "Sir, with the hobgoblins on the march, I don't think it’s a good idea for you to head there. I recommend you stay here."
Emile replied, "My son is there, I have to help him!"
"I could check on him for you. Keep him safe?"
"No, I HAVE to go! He NEEDS ME!"
Garrick studied the man. Something was off, but he seemed adamant. "Fine. I will do what I can to keep you safe on the journey. But if I tell you to run, you have to listen to me."
Emile smiled, amused. I'll ditch this dope at my first opportunity. "Thank you sir!” he said. “You do your God proud!"
"Right." The bureaucrat opened a drawer and took out some papers. "Two sets of travel documents. Please sign these oaths, swearing that you will not aid or abet the Houses of Æthelflæd and Ciarran, or any other enemies of Dunshire and its People."
Emile readily signs the oath, eager to leave.
"Apologies, Sir,” siad Garrick. “My oath forbids me from signing that. I am sworn to help the sick and injured." His voice held no defeat, but an eagerness to find an alternative.
Emile rolled his eyes . . .
"Hmph." The bureaucrat slid the paper back, clearly in no hurry. "Hmph." He stared at the writing on the page, long enough that Emile began to wonder if he could even read.
The half-orc set the page down on the table and scratched through some words with a flourish of quill. He scribbled near the scratches.
"You will not provide military aid or intelligence. Sign."
Garrick sat for a long moment studying the page, attempting to discern any possible conflict with his oath. Finding nothing immediate, and with the call to the defense of Brindol somewhat hastening his need to go, he signed on the line. "Should this not conflict with my oath, it shouldn't be an issue." Garrick slid the page back.
"Right. Safe travels." The half-orc stamped and handed traveling papers to each of them, then gestured toward the door.
Both stood up to leave, Emile waiting for Garrick to go first. Garrick extended his hand towards the door with the slightest of bows. "After you, sir." Emile begrudgingly walked first.
By the time they exited the guardhouse it was late afternoon. Too late to begin travel that day, Emile would have to find somewhere to stay the night.
"Young man," Emile said expectantly. "Do you know the way to the nearest tavern? I'm afraid it may be too late for my journey to begin tonight."
"Sir Garrick. And I never caught your name?"
"Emile Jean-Claude," he paused. "Can you help me?"
"Of course. Follow me." Garrick led them both to a tavern.
They entered the Queen's Coffer, one of the nicer places in town. There were few customers, and the publican immediately doted upon them.
"Welcome, gentlemen. Please, please, sit." He guided them toward a table. "I am Alric. What can I get for you?"
"A mug of ale for me. Would you like anything, Emile?" said Garrick as he took a seat. "I'll buy, since you had such a rough time getting here."
Emile took a seat next to him. "Any wine?" he asked.
"Of course, sirs. I shall return." Alric hurried back to the bar to get their drinks.
Garrick turned to Emile. "So I have to ask. Why are you really headed to Brindol? I don't care what you tell the guards, but I would prefer to have the truth."
Emile, a little surprised that the man was perceptive enough to see through his ruse, paused a moment. "Fine. I don't have a son. I was headed there for my own reasons."
"They are?" asked Garrick quickly.
"Nothing nefarious. I heard there was a wizard there. You know, I'm something of a magician myself," said Emile, an almost chaotic smile crossing his face.
"A Magician, you say?" asked Garrick.
Emile snapped his fingers and his ragged clothes were suddenly cleaned. He enjoyed the half-smile that creased Garrick's lips.
"I take it the 'ruffians' were also part of the ruse," asked Garrick.
"You would be correct. I was going to let you know before you paid for my drink."
"No, you weren't," said Garrick, cocking a bigger smile. "But I'll cover it anyway. Consider it a prize for getting one over on me."
Alric brought a mug of ale and a cup of wine. "Would you sirs care fer some dinner?" If he noticed Emily's change in attire he did not mention it.
"Absolutely,” replied Emile. “I am famished from the road."
Garrick nodded in agreement.
He took their orders and went off to ready the meals.
"So what is your plan if Brindol is in ruins when we get there?" Garrick asked.
"I can disguise myself, and sneak in. If the wizard is dead, maybe I can at least keep some of his treasures out of the brutes' hands."
"Sure." Garrick replies. Emile did not catch the slight disbelief in his voice.
"To that end. I am not a child. I don't need an escort. I made it all the way here fine," said Emile, almost impatiently.
"S'always safer to travel together. But I can't force you to take my help. I'd advise against it, but if you wish to part ways on the road, you'll do what you have to." Garrick paused.
"Do you have any next of kin? So I can send the donkey back when I find your body?" Garrick continued, sarcasm clear in his voice.
Emile smiled and gave a slight chuckle. "I didn't lie about Frites. He'd fight with me to the end."
Garrick smiled, and looked back at his drink.
"So what calls a man to swear his services to a god?” Emile asked, sipping his wine. “Never had that urge. Fates been cruel to me at times. Can't imagine the gods give a right damn what happens to us."
"That's a bit of a story," Garrick replied. "Suffice to say, my conviction was earned. And I get to help people along the way, in service to something greater. If nothing else, it’s easier to sleep at night."
"Hmm." Emile bit back further conversation. This man might not rat him out to the Hawkshaws but he sure wasn't discreet. "Fair enough."
Alric brought their meals. The Coffer's good reputation was well-earned.
---
SS 2022 Emerald 20
In the morning, Emile snuck out a bit earlier than expected, so as to lose Garrick, and is on the road again. To the west he could see two armies encamped outside of the city of Dun. They did not appear to be sieging, just camping. One encampment bore black and bronze colors, with a coat of arms depicting crossed axes. The other was adorned in black and silver, with a falcon crest.
Emile moved to take a closer look, while maintaining a healthy distance. They definitely had some makeshift defenses up, but they appeared more like refugee camps that happen to have armies, than invaders.
Emile approached one of the perimeter guards and asked if everything was okay.
"Oh sure, chum,” the guard replied. “Just lovely if you like camping out in the wet and the weather while your nice soft bed is a stone's throw away!" He gestured toward the city as he said the last. "What is it I can do for you, then?"
"All these people from Brindol? I heard there’s some trouble that way."
"Brindol?!” the guard scoffed. “Gods no. We've got enough of our own problems here, chum. These people are from Dun, and the rightful heirs as well! What'v'ya been under a rock?"
Emile pulled his hood down. "Not from around here, you see," he said, pointing to his ears. "Name's Emile. Was hoping to get some information on the Brindol situation. I think I can get it sorted out."
The guard stared for a moment before stammering, "Heard a rumor there is some kind of hobgoblin scare down there.” He seemed to recover his indignation, “Coupla monster sightings don't rate against insurrection.
"Me cousin's in Brindol, though. He's a good sort. Tallow, they calls him."
"Well I'll tell you what,” Emile said. “I'm headed that way. I'll check in on Tallow for you. I'll probably sort out this whole hobgoblin monster nonsense single-handed!" Emile continued, forcing enthusiasm.
I just have to make enough of a fool of myself so he'll tell others. Word will spread, and the Hawkshaws might lose me in the chaos of Brindol.
"Good on ya, then. If you're so apt you oughtta come back when you're done and deal with some," the guard lowered his voice, "other greenskins."
"Orcs giving you a problem? Savages all of them . . ." Emile trailed off. "Tell you what, I'll come back once I get Brindol sorted, and I'll make sure these green savages get what’s coming to them." Emile gave the man a wink.
The guard nodded, "Safe travels, then," and went back to patrolling.
---
The road south was quiet, with few travelers. The presence of nearby armies seemed to have scared off beasts and bandits alike.
Emile recalled Garrick mentioning a trusty horse, and worried he might be overtaken on the road. Emile wanted to instead elect for a slightly longer route. Besides, he wasn’t trying to save the place. If he could speak with Ambrose, great. If not, he would loot the wizard’s tower.
Unfamiliar with the territory, however, Emile knew only that following the road would lead to Brindol. He had no map, and leaving the road would risk getting horribly lost.
Ultimately, he was resigned to simply remaining alert for anyone, ready to duck off the road or cast invisibility if necessary.
---
Garrick awoke refreshed and excited for his adventure, but he was soon disappointed when Alric told him that Emile had already departed.
"Figures. Didn't expect to see him in the morning anyway. Bit of a shifty fellow that one." Garrick paused, collecting his thoughts.
"Right then," he continued, "on to Brindol. Thanks again. The room was comfortable and the food appetizing." He paused.
"Drinks could use some strengthening, though," he added, shooting Alric a wink.
He headed out the door to summon Brutus. Near the stables, he closed his eyes and whispered a prayer to Baiste. As if in response, he heard a faint snort and felt the steed’s hot breath on his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Brutus standing before him, ready for the journey. Brutus neighed happily.
Garrick scratched under his chin, and patted him on the side. "Looking good, old friend. We're going to head into the thick of it here. No one I'd rather be doing it with," Garrick said softly into Brutus's ear.
Brutus snorted and pawed the ground. He was ready.
Garrick paused, and with his hands still on Brutus, said another short prayer to Baiste. He asked for Baiste’s favor in his travels, and prayed that he might live long enough to return to Uhtred and tell of his deeds. Then he saddled up on to Brutus and rode out of Dun, slowly at first, as he wove along the streets, but taking greater haste when out of the more populated areas.
Garrick rode out from Dun, along the road to Brindol. To the west he could see the deposed Houses of Æthelflæd and Ciarran encamped out of bow range from the city.
It had been a week since they were expelled by House Grosh, and everyone waited to see if the standoff would end without bloodshed.
Compared to the intricacies of human politics, defending the innocent from monsters seemed refreshingly simple.
The roads were made for trade--carts and pack animals going slowly over the path of least resistance. But Brutus was no pack animal.
"What do you say, bud? I think you've got the speed to do this in half the time. Let's go help some folk, huh?" Before Garrick could snap the reigns, he heard a snort of acknowledgment, and Brutus's pace quickened.
---
Shortly before mid-day, Emile heard the thunder of hooves approaching from the north. He pulled Frites to the side of the road, spilled a few drops of ink on his hoof to keep track of him, and cast invisibility on the donkey. Then he dove into the nearby brush, doing his best to both keep track of the ink dabs, keep an eye on the approaching rider.
Garrick and Brutus were barreling along the road, enjoying the Spring day and the feeling of freedom that came with a canter. Suddenly, Brutus stopped short, pawed the ground and snorted. Through his empathic link with his steed, Garrick could tell that Brutus smelled something unexpected to the west.
"What is it bud? Got something?" Garrick scanned test. He whispered to Brutus, "Scouts watching?" Garrick dismounted and walked slowly in the direction Brutus indicated, eyes darting across the area.
His eyes alit upon Emile, crouched behind some bushes.
Garrick sighed. I thought you were a wizard. You couldn't hide any better than this? Garrick thought to himself.
"Wow, what a beautiful morning," he said loudly. He tried to look absent-minded as he approached the bushes. "Warm sun. Fresh air. Wizards, hiding in bushes . . ."
He looked directly at Emile. "Are we serious?"
"Fuck," Emile cursed under his breath. "Ahh, oh hey there! Didn't see you. I was just . . . looking for mushrooms! Silly me, did I leave the tavern without waking you up?" Emile chuckled trying to appear nonchalant. "I knew I was forgetting something!"
Garrick held out his hands in a "C’mon bro" sort of gesture.
Emile sighed and stood up. "Look, you're clearly going to make it to Brindol before me. I didn't want to slow you down. Plus, by time I get there the battle might be over! That would be safer for me."
"Tell me where you're really headed and why," Garrick said, an angry tone entering his voice.
"I AM going to Brindol. That is true."
"Why?"
Emile paused, trying to figure out how to best word his reasoning so as not to arouse suspicion.
"I am from Terredebeau. I am a noble, primarily interested in the study and preservation of magic throughout the world. I heard the Wizard Ambrose taught at a college there, and that he might be able to advance my studies."
"You just decided to head there at the same time a hobgoblin army is marching on the city?"
"My timing is impeccable, I know. Trust me, I'm not excited about that part."
"So why not wait until the trouble passes?"
"I said I'm interested in the study and preservation of magic throughout the world. Theres a high likelihood that Brindol falls. If it does, I don't want some army of savages despoiling and destroying whatever magic artifacts or knowledge Ambrose might hold."
Garrick thought for a moment. "A reasonable goal. Can't shake the feeling that that's what you're hoping for though."
"I don't have a preference. Speaking to the man might yield more understanding. But it could be far more complicated than just picking through the rubble."
Garrick was taken aback. How could this guy be so callous and so indifferent towards these people's plight. "Quite the hero. You're right, slowing down to protect you is not worth my time, to be honest. But I swear on my oath, if I hear tale of you causing problems for the people of Brindol, I will find you again." Garrick paused, placing his hand on his sword hilt in its scabbard. "And we'll have a more pointed conversation."
Emile rolled his eyes. What a self-righteous rube. "Looking forward to it."
Garrick gave Emile one final look, before snapping the reigns and continuing down the path.
Emile watched the idealist head off down the road. When he dropped the invisibility spell he saw that Frites had not gone very far. They set off down the road.
---
SS 2022 Emerald 20 - 26
The remainder of Garrick's journey passed uneventfully. There were roadside inns spaced a day's travel apart, but Brutus passed these by lunch time and reached the second inn each day. After six days he arrived in Dennovar, the gateway city to Elsir Vale. Gold and black lion crests of loom over its entry. The town is full of bustle and business.
Garrick approached the nearest guard. "Evening friend. Any chance there might be a local chapel or house of worship to Baiste?"
The guard looked at him and laughed. "Welcome to Dennovar, sire. If someone believes it, we've got a temple for it."
He gestured into the city.
Garrick noticed the guard had not asked him, or any of the merchant carts entering the city, about travelling papers.
"Good sir, is there an office I might have to stop at to check in with my papers?" Garrick asked, holding up his papers.
The guard snorted. "You'll need no papers here, sire. House Grosh holds no sway outside of Dunshire."
"Cheers, sir. May Baiste smile upon you." Garrick headed off to try to find the nearest Temple of Baiste.
---
Dennovar was a trade city, much like Dun. Large portions of its central roadway were surrounded by markets and bazaars. If the appearance of a heavily armored knight astride a massive destrier alarmed anyone, they did not show it.
The guard was not jesting--there were temples everywhere to every god imaginable. After some polite inquiries, Garrick found devoted to Baiste.
The occasional person went in or out, but it was mostly quiet from the outside. There was a hitching post near the temple, and a solid wooden door stood open in the front archway. Light shone out from within.
Garrick hitched Brutus to the post. "I'll feed you shortly, bud, before I dismiss you," Garrick said as he scratched behind his ear.
Garrick stepped inside the temple.
It was a pleasant shrine, with an area large enough to hold services, surrounded by apses for contemplation and prayer. A kindly old cleric tended to the altar, and greeted warmly all who entered.
"Hello and welcome, traveler. Peace and health be upon you." He saw Garrick’s Hospitaler tabard, "Ah! Sire Knight. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Brother, good to see you in good health. I have been travelling the road for a few days, and had hoped to spend the night in town before heading on to Brindol. I am making haste to the city's defense. Have you heard any news from there?"
"Well, you are of course welcome to rest here as long as you need, my lord. As for news, I have heard nothing of Brindol needing defense."
"Thank you, Brother. I would spend the night if there's room." He pauses, "You've heard nothing of Brindol? My sources had it on good authority that a large army of hobgoblins and other beasts were marching on the city."
"No, nothing unusual. Just merchants and trade."
"Might we be able to spare a few brothers?" Garrick asked, showing concern. "If the reports I am hearing are correct, the city will likely need healers, should it survive. I don't suggest they travel with me. I will be making all haste to the city, and diving into the thickest of the fighting. But if you lag behind me a day or two, and send a small congregation of some of our healers, that might aid the city greatly in rebuilding.
"Should we fail in the city's defense, I will send Brutus to warn you off."
"Of course we will go where we are needed. But let us see what the morning brings, shall we? As I say, I have heard nothing of Brindol being embattled, and trade caravans arrive from there regularly. Perhaps tomorrow we can get to the bottom of this."
Garrick hesitated. "I don't know, brother. I'm not sure I can stay too long. I don't want to arrive too late to help." A bit of enthusiasm crept into his voice at the end.
"Yes, I understand. You are young and brave. But even the young and brave need sleep. And information. Let me show you to a room." He led Garrick down some stairs to a spartan but serviceable bedroom.
Garrick reluctantly followed. "Thank you for your generosity, Brother." Garrick put his shield and pack down in the corner. "I must attend to my steed, Brutus. He has been riding for days, and I promised to give him a good meal tonight before dismissing him."
"Ah, well you will find some apples in the larder down the hall, if you wish to pay him my compliments. Good night, sire."
"Night Brother." Garrick waited for him to leave, then headed to the ladder to score a few apples. Then he made his way to Brutus.
Brutus was happy to see him and very appreciative of the apples.
Garrick spent a few minutes petting/brushing Brutus as he finished eating them, and gave him a few minutes to digest before he dismissed him back to the celestial realms. "See you tomorrow, bud." Garrick closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Brutus’s. When he opened them again, Brutus was gone. He turned and headed back to his room.
---
SS 2022 Emerald 27
Garrick awoke refreshed and ready to go. He looked for the Brother who offered him assistance the night before and found him eating breakfast in the kitchen.
"Good morning, sire. Perhaps you might consider meeting with the Temple Council--that is a council of clerics from all of the temples--to tell them what you have heard?"
Garrick considered for a moment. "How soon can they meet?"
"I am not sure, but we can go to Prelate Harrask. She is head of the council."
Garrick took a moment to let the danger of what he was rushing into sink in. Maybe caution was a good idea here. "Let's meet with her," he said through gritted teeth.
"Breakfast first?"
Garrick stifled a groan as he took a seat. "Of course."
After a healthy breakfast, Brother Maynard told a fellow acolyte that he was going out and led Garrick through the city. They came to another temple, the Church of Yud Dham the Wise.
Brother Maynard led Garrick inside and asked an acolyte there if he might speak with Prelate Harrask. The acolyte offered them both seats and then retreated into the recesses of the church.
"Have you met many priests of Yud-Dham in your travels, lord?"
"Can't say that I have," he paused. "What is Prelate Harrask like?"
Brother Maynard drew a breath in and held it for a moment. "Oh, like most zealots, I suspect. She will not mince words with us. She is truthful and pragmatic, if a bit . . . rigid. She rose to her position because she is unfailingly reliable."
"Sounds like a mixed bag. Truthful and reliable I can deal with. But dealing with rigidity has always been my weak link. Just ask my master, Uhtred Goodwin. He gave me many a lecture not only on patience but the virtue of . . . dogma." He paused. I'd be failing those lessons now, all over again. He took a deep breath. "Of course our dogma I can get behind. Others . . ." he trailed off.
"People need rules. But they also need mercy." Brother Maynard looked up at the sound of footsteps. The acolyte returned.
"Follow me, please."
Garrick cocked a half-smile while looking at the floor, then got up to follow.
The acolyte took them through a series of hallways and staircases to an office, wherein sat the stern-faced Prelate.
"Honor and wisdom to you, Brother," she said.
"Peace and good health," replied Brother Maynard. "May I introduce Sir Garrick Balerion, of the Knights Hospitaller. Sir Garrick, the Prelate Barila Harrask of the Church of Yud-Dham the Wise, high priestess of Yud-Dham in the Vale and head of the Temple Council."
Garrick gave a slight bow and paused for a half a moment, thinking how best to approach this. "Honor and wisdom, madam Prelate."
She smiled, "Peace and good health, Sir Knight."
Brother Maynard said, "He has ridden a long way from Dun to bring dark tidings."
She arched a singular eyebrow, "Dark tidings?"
"Of monstrous forces marching on Brindol."
"Indeed,” Garrick said. “I was serving in Dun, when a messenger who stopped for supplies on his way North informed us that Averill Bancroft had received word from a 'Sir Kagan the Wild, Champion of Dun,' of a monstrous army marching upon the Elsir Vale, that would set upon Brindol to siege and destroy it.
"I have never met this Sir Kagan, but his reputation in Dun is arguably prolific. My master, Uhtred Goodwin, also saw the truth in these concerns and allowed me to ride for Brindol. If possible, I would help defend the city."
"Hmm. We have received no similar reports, though the Vale is wide." She appeared to be in thought for a moment.
Garrick fought every urge to say more.
"What can you tell me about how your Mr. Bancroft received this word?"
"I believe Sir Kagan was in Brindol when he sent word. I am not sure exactly how word reached Mr. Bancroft."
"It would have taken a hard rider over a week," she said to herself. "And he would have passed through here."
She addressed Garrick, "It is not enough to justify a military action. The Merchant's Council would not want to give Brindol the impression they are being annexed.
"I would like you to take a messenger bird with you to Brindol, and send it back with a report. I will prepare the Councils and our forces for a possible conflict."
Garrick paused for a moment, considering her offer. "I recognize the politics of the situation is . . . delicate. A small force wouldn't result in any backlash. Can you spare a half-dozen men? If the situation is as dire as I have been hearing, by time the messenger bird returns to you, it may be too late." He paused. "They wouldn't answer to me, of course. They would be their own men and women. But I have a feeling every sword is going to matter in this fight." He took a second to calm and refocus. "I will still take the messenger bird, and send word of a need for soldiers and healers if necessary. If this has all been a wild goose chase, I will report back here for penance. But if it is something, and I were to do nothing, I think I would regret it a whole lot more."
"Unfortunately it would be imprudent to send even six, for many reasons. But we will send an acolyte with you to assist. If there is trouble in Brindol, two will be better than one."
She looked past Garrick to the acolyte who brought them in and they realized he had been waiting there the whole time.
"Inform Nedes that he will be going to Brindol with Sir Balerion. Give him a messenger bird to bring with them."
Garrick bristled on the inside but did his absolute best to conceal it. "Thank you, madam Prelate. I only ask that you keep the members of my cloister apprised of any developments. Healers can turn the tide as well as soldiers." He gave another bow.
Prelate Harrask nodded and wished him well. The acolyte escorted them outside, where Brother Maynard took his leave and also wished him well.
Garrick wished Brother Maynard well, and thanked him for his assistance. "If I'm ever in Dennovar again, I look forward to seeing you."
"And I you."
After a few minutes, a halfling came out carrying a cage with a bird in it. "Sir Knight, I am Nedes. I was tasked with accompanying you?"
"Nedes, good to meet you. I am Sir Garrick Balerion. I appreciate you agreeing to make the journey. What have they told you?"
"You believe that an army of monsters is marching on Brindol, and may already be there. We need to determine the truth of those beliefs and report back." He raised the bird's cage as he said the last. "Time is of the essence."
"Good. Do you have a mount?"
"I am authorized to requisition one from the stables. They are this way," he gestured to the west.
"Lead the way." Garrick followed close behind him.
Nedes darted nimbly through the crowds, though he was easy to follow since people tend to get out of the way of a fully armored knight.
They came to a fine stable near the west gate, where Nedes approached the stablemaster and requested a horse to make for Brindol "with all haste."
The stablemaster complied and soon Garrick was on the road again, with a new companion this time.
---
The weather remained quite lovely as they cantered their mounts down the road. If the pace bothered Nedes, he never mentioned it. They took occasional rests, as necessary.
In the afternoon they passed a rider on a light horse making haste in the opposite direction, toward Dennovar. He did not stop to talk, and neither did they.
True to form, they blew past the next roadside inn just after mid-day and arrived at the following one just after dark.
Sitting in the inn's common area, Nedes asked, "Why do you believe there are monsters attacking Brindol?"
"Why, strategically are they attacking? Or why do I think it's actually happening, and am not dismissing it as rumor?"
"Well, both, I suppose. I meant the latter, though."
"The former is the more interesting one I think, though I have no answer. It’s not common for hobgoblins and beasts to gather in forces large enough to threaten a major city. Maybe a small village or borough, but not a city." Garrick paused, sipping his ale. "As to the latter, I'm not totally sure. I think . . . I think I want to be wrong. I hope it's a false rumor. Sure, I will be a bit of a laughing stock at the church for a bit. But I would rather look like a fool than risk letting other people suffer while I did nothing." He took another sip. "If I'm right I won't be the fool but . . . I probably won't get the opportunity to gloat." He cracked a smile, half kidding about wanting to gloat.
"I have heard stories of goblin raids and the like, but also stories of their inability to cooperate. It is said that their own warlike nature has kept them at each other's throats in the mountains."
"Aye. That is my understanding as well." He paused, as something occurred to him. "That means, assuming its true, that something is keeping them in line. Either something very charismatic, or very powerful . . . or both."
"They say the goblins worship chaos, and only respect strength. But they used to say the same things about orcs."
Garrick shot a quick glance at the sword on his hip before bringing his gaze back to Nedes. "Aye. They did. Though, from what I hear, Sir Kagan the Wild is an orc. We might not have this information without him."
"Seems like those prejudices were wrong."
"Or it’s nothing. And they call him Sir Kagan the Wild, for a reason." Garrick cocked another smile.
"Time will tell I suppose. What is life like in Dun?"
"Life in Dun can be messy. Political squabbles. Power plays. I'm sure you've seen similar in Dennovar. There was some recent trouble there with the three ruling houses. Seems like it’s on the brink of war, perhaps." I hope Uhtred doesn't need me. I hope I didn't just run off and abandon him when the city was a powderkeg. He shook away the thought. "As a Knight Hospitalier though, I aid any and all who might be in need of healing or medical attention. One House looks the same as any other."
"Is it glorious, being a knight?"
Garrick chuckled. "It's not quite what the legends play it up to be, but I wouldn't say it's boring. It certainly has its moments. But I'll tell you what, I've never regretted it." He looked over Nedes. "The Prelate called you an acolyte. Have you ever sought to squire for a Knight?"
"Oh, I am no warrior. I study scripture and contemplate Yud-Dham's wisdom. My only weapons are knowledge and prayer."
"And fine weapons they are. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Though, having a blade as a fallback has always helped me sleep at night."
Nedes nodded. "Speaking of sleeping, I had better turn in. Another full and fast day of travel tomorrow."
"Agreed." As he got up, Garrick did as well, feeding Brutus before dismissing him and then turning in for the night.
---
SS 2022 Emerald 28 – Cat’s Eye 1
The next two days of travel passed uneventfully, and in the late afternoon the walls of Brindol loomed ahead. No sign of any armies or warfare appeared so far.
Garrick stepped down from Brutus. "Shit," he said under his breath, as he took a few steps towards Brindol. He looked to the skies, looking for any smoke or winged beasts.
There was no smoke but from the city's chimneys; no beasts but the birds of the air.
Nedes said quietly, "It looks peaceful so far, but looks can be deceiving."
"Right," Garrick said, trying to reassure himself. "Let's head into the city and see what we can find."
The city was open and welcoming, its blue and gold lion banners hanging regally over the gates. The guards seemed calm and perhaps even bored.
Garrick approached one of the guards and asked where the most gossipy tavern or store keeper might be located.
The guard looked him over. "The Laughing Manticore ought to suit, sire. Up the road a ways on yer left, near the Academy. If the road forks, ye've gone too far."
"Thank you, good sir." Garrick paused. "One more thing. As a travelling knight, I like to make myself useful to the villages and towns that put me up. Who might be in charge of the city's defense? I would offer my services."
"I expect that'd be Capt'n Wulfric. Head of the Lions. They're our knights y'see. From the sounds of things, they'll welcome any services ye offer."
"Indeed? Are the Lions expecting trouble?"
"Word is that goblins have blockaded Old Rhest road to the north, and some kind of goblin army is marching through the Vale from the West."
"Indeed," remarked Nedes.
Garrick shot Nedes a look, then looked back at the guard. "Thank you for the information. I shall make myself available to the Lions at once." As they began to walk away, he turned to Nedes and said, "We should check in with Captain Wulfric, see what information we can gather. Once we have it, we can send your friend there," he motioned to the messenger bird, "back to Dennovar with the information. Hopefully they can get here in time."
---
Brindol was a city of hustle and bustle, but the news that there was a goblin army on the way had changed the atmosphere of the busy streets.
They found their way to Brindol Keep and, without too much ado, an audience with Captain Sig Wulfric.
"Welcome to Brindol. You come at a difficult time--we are preparing to defend the city. What can we do for a Knight Hospitaller? Or, perhaps, what can you do for us?"
Garrick felt a touch of relief, which quickly washed away as he realized that he was right. "I have ridden hard over the past week from Dun. We received word from a messenger that an army of goblins marched upon Brindol, and I came to offer my service in defense of the city. This," he put his hand on Nedes shoulder near his waist, "is Nedes. He is an Acolyte of Yud-Dham. He was brave enough to ride with me from Dennovar. He was to assess the situation here with me, and send word back to his temple once we confirmed the threat."
"How is Prelate Harrask?" Captain Wulfric asked Nedes.
"Well, sir," Nedes replies. "She sends her regards. Would you like me to include any word from you in my report?"
"We'll see what the Defense Council says."
"I stand at the ready for whatever Brindol needs of me," Garrick said.
"You rode all the way from Dun? How could a messenger have gotten there so quickly? We ourselves became aware of the threat only nine days ago."
"We had a messenger pass through, looking for some supplies, who mentioned that he was en route to Ankara Dam, with word of an impending invasion. He had been dispatched by Averill Bancroft after Sir Kagan the Wild got word to him. I am not sure how Sir Kagan managed this."
"Strange," he said. "Well I am glad you took it upon yourself to come. Your skills will be most needed at the Church of Ghrian. They are organizing our medical preparedness. You will find it down the hill to the west. Hard to miss."
"And you, young Nedes," he said, "should come with me to the Defense Council."
Garrick turned to Nedes. "Go now. Gather all the information you can, and send it back to Dennovar as soon as possible. If you need me, I will be at the Church of Ghrian."
He turned back to Wulfric. "Thank you, Captain. I will make myself of use." He turned to head to the Church of Ghrian.
--
Wynflæd Gyldenfax, the high priestess of Ghrian, was exceptionally beautiful, kind-hearted, and soft-spoken. She was also very pleased to see a Paladin had come to the city's aid.
She asked Garrick to teach swordsmanship to those young clergy and volunteers who had not been conscripted, and to teach medicine to the many who, too weak to fight, had volunteered to help tend the wounded.
"It would be my pleasure, milady."
---
SS 2022 Cat’s Eye 4
Emile arrived in Dennovar unscathed. He had made average time, for traveling by donkey. He had a few near misses with bandit-types, but a quick display of any type of magic tended to scare them off.
Upon entering the city he asked around for a tavern that might also have a stable. He was directed to The Crooked House, an inn and tavern whose name was an obvious nod to the visible slant in its walls. Its generally ramshackle appearance belied its popularity--it was lively and busy inside.
A human boy came over as Emile entered and said, "Welcome, stranger. Would you like a table? Mayhaps a room?"
"Thank you boy, both of those would be lovely. My name's Emile. What is your name?"
"Liam, sir. This way, please."
He led Emile to an open seat at the end of one of the long tables that made up the common area of the tavern. There were others at the same table, but there was a chair with no one next to or across from it.
"Dinner, room, and breakfast will be one crown, sir. Drinks are by the flagon."
"Thank you, Liam. I'll take some wine. Nothing extravagant, but preferably better than what you give the typical riff-raff."
"Aye, sire," he said with a nod of his head, and he was off and away.
Emile looked around the Tavern. Nothing seemed notable--just mundane humans doing mundane human things.
The place was crowded, and they had only communal tables. The nearest person is two seats away.
In the corner, at the end of a nearby long table, Emile noticed a group he would condescendingly label "adventurers." Clearly more experienced than the farmers and merchants around them, and a mix of races and professions.
An armored cavalier type, a hooded rogue, some sort of magician in oversized robes, a blond archer, and two scantily-clad barbarians: a halfling and a human woman.
Emile called over Liam, and offered to buy them a drink.
"Yessir, I will let them know."
Liam approached the group and talked to them. The halfling barbarian nodded emphatically while the archer smiled politely and said something. The cavalier looked down his nose at Liam.
As Liam hurried off to the bar, the archer raised his mug to Emile and tipped his head.
Emile returned the nod.
Liam returned soon with a glass of wine for Emile and a tray of drinks for the adventurers. "That will be 5 silver, sir."
Emile handed him the silver. Liam took the money and brought the drinks to the adventurers as Emile trailed behind him. He had set them down when Emile approached.
"Hope the drinks are to your liking." He took a sip of his wine.
"Drinks always are," said the halfling, grinning. The cavalier remained silent, eyeing Emile appraisingly. The rogue smiled a friendly smile from beneath her hood. The archer smiled welcomingly and said, "Thank you, sir. Your kindness to strangers is appreciated."
"Of course," Emile said with a nod. "I've never been part of a proper adventuring group before. It seems so . . . challenging. Not for me mind you, but I've always admired them." He looked to the two barbarians. "Personally, as I am a bit lacking in the constitution department, I've always been fascinated by the hardier folk. I bet the two of you could cause all kinds of trouble." Emile said with a reassuring smile.
It was clear that they did not know what to make of him, or how to take his comment.
"I'm Hank," the archer said. "This is Eric," gesturing to the cavalier, "Diana," the female barbarian, "Pesto," the magician, "Sheila," the rogue, "and Bobby, "the halfling barbarian.
"My name's Emile. Just stopping in for the night on my way to Brindol. Hear there's some trouble there that I'm going to check out." He paused a moment. "You guys see any action recently?"
The others exchanged glances as the magician said, "We're going to Brindol to fight goblins!"
"Oh? You heard about that did you? People on my journey didn't seem too knowledgeable about it. Have you fought many goblins? I hear they're viscous creatures."
"They're not so vicious," said Eric, "they don't scare me."
"Word reached Dennovar a few days ago," Hank said. "But the city could only spare some light support. They are worried about their own defense."
"So we're leaving tomorrow to go help," says the rogue.
"Well then, tonight is for celebrating!” exclaimed Emile. “I've heard how dangerous the adventuring life can be! While I'm sure you're all capable, makes sense to booze it up before embarking on a dangerous quest. Liam, another round for my friends here!"
Emile spent the evening carousing with the adventurers. He tried to egg on the barbarians into having a friendly grudge match in the tavern. It began to seem unlikely, however, despite their drinking. The female barbarian was reserved and drank slowly. She actually seemed calm and slow to rile. The halfling was more agitated and excitable, but Emile realized that he was drinking milk.
Emile turned to Bobby and said, "Please excuse my ignorance. I'm a scholar you see, without much worldly experience, so I mean no offense by this. I see you are very muscular, and I'm sure you could kick my ass up and down the tavern. But, do you find yourself struggling to keep up with Diana due to your size? I only ask because I find the stories of triumph over adversity fascinating."
Bobby huffed slightly and said, "I'm faster 'n her anyday."
She nodded and smiled, saying, "It's true. I could keep up with him for a while, but he does not get tired."
"Do you prefer speed over raw power?" asked Emile. "What I mean is, if given the chance to be, perhaps even larger than your Diana, would you take it?"
"Someday I'll be the biggest warrior there is!" the halfling replied. He hefted a club that looked like a small stalagmite, "I am plenty strong and fast."
"Impressive," Emile said, trying to look genuinely impressed. "And Diana, would you too, want to see how the other half(ling) lives?"
"I'm fine," she replied. "He does it better than I could."
"What about you," the rogue asks, "would you rather be tough than a scholar?"
Emile sat back in his chair and considered the question for a moment. "Hmm. It would be a fascinating turn of events . . . but no. I think I prefer being a scholar. I've learned how to cast some fun spells. For example, I could make Bobby bigger, and Diana smaller. That would be a fun subversion of expectations."
They laughed and their magician spoke up, "those are neat spells! Do you study transmutation?"
Emile perked up at the question. "Indeed! I find the ability to change one's reality to be the most valuable power one can have. And yourself?"
"Oh," he got embarrassed, "I just dabble in things. Whatever catches my eye, I guess."
"He screws his spells up," Eric said. "Tries to summon a rope and instead gets a bar of soap."
The others shush Eric and defend Presto.
"Don't be too upset," Emile said to Presto. "We all start somewhere. Besides, if we all stopped studying because some brute bullied us, no one would study the arcane arts. When you do get better, he'll be begging for your help to cross a chasm, or pick an arcane lock, or identify some magical mingle-mangle."
Presto smiled sheepishly while Eric looked skeptical and unappreciative.
"Magic should always be nurtured. Never forget that." Emile looked over at Eric, and held his gaze for a bit. Then went back to sipping his wine.
The evening wore on and eventually everyone turned in for the night.
---
SS 2022 Cat’s Eye 5
The adventurers were in the common area breaking their fasts. The tavern was less crowded in the morning --fewer locals gossiping at breakfast time. It was only the inn residents who stopped by.
As Emile came down to the tavern, he ordered some breakfast and sat down with them again. "Off to Brindol today, are we?"
"Yessir, just after breakfast."
"Care for a couple extra travelling companions? I'm headed that way, and given the danger these days, there's always safety in numbers."
"Sure." Most of them were pleased to have Emile along, though the rogue seemed suspicious and Eric looked put out.
Emile turned to Eric. "Come on old chap. Maybe I can help Presto along the way so that he can learn the difference between rope and soap," he said in a playful tone.
Eric begrudgingly went along with the group.
After breakfast, they all set out. As they walked, Emile led Frites along and stuck near Presto. "So how long have you been practicing with magic?"
"Um, just a year or so. I just kinda . . . figured it out."
"So did I. I didn't have the best upbringing. Magic was my escape. Just because you’re self-taught doesn't mean that you're any less than someone with formal training. I've bested those who were, 'above me' before. With determination and guile, anything is possible."
"Well," he said, "I know I am smart and that I can do things other people can't. I just get nervous in battles."
"Ah, yes. I understand that. Being an elf, I have been able to study for a LONG time. I didn't have to get into a fight when I was still a novice. From what I've read, focus on positioning. Keep the meat," he pointed to Eric, "in front of you at all times. Once you get a little more skilled, you can learn techniques to get by on your own. The ability to become invisible to the naked eye cannot be understated."
Presto glanced at the rogue as Emile said this, and says, "I just want to be helpful to my friends. But it seems as though my spells misfire as often as they work."
"Could be a number of things. I wouldn't get discouraged. Just make sure when you prepare each morning, you take extra care."
The young wizard smiled at the encouragement.
---
SS 2022 Cat’s Eye 10
Sir Garrick spent his days training peasants who were barely strong enough to lift a sword, but they tried and the effort of training kept up their morale.
The medic volunteers grasped the basics well enough. Garrick practiced tourniquets and cautery with them. They would not be treating anyone long term, but they might save lives.
In his spare time, he cut cloth into bandages.
Dennovar sent a handful of clerics, but they held on to their militia for fear the Horde would sweep around Brindol and strike them unprepared.
The Defense Council had taken to calling the goblin army either The Horde, or The Red Hand, based upon reports that the goblin soldiers bore a sort of insignia of a red hand.
Word came that the Red Hand had taken Nimon's Gap. They were closing in.
---
Emile and his traveling companions arrived in Brindol. The town was aflurry with siege preparations. Many wagons of goods and non-essential personnel were evacuating in the opposite direction, and their occupants looked at the traveling adventurers as though they were crazy for coming.
The journey had taken about six days. The adventurers were pleasant enough company. The archer seemed to be the leader, though he was constantly undermined by the cavalier. The rogue seemed protective of the halfling. They generally all appeared to be friends.
Emile split off from the adventuring group to find Ambrose. Asking around, he found his way to "Red Magic and Sundries." A tall, thin, multi-story building, it appeared to be one of the few completely stone buildings in the city.
Entering, Emile saw it was a cluttered but well-stocked magic shop. A statuesque woman with a deep complexion and flawless features stood behind the counter, writing in a large book. She did not look up as she said, "Welcome to Red Magic. Take a look around and see what catches your eye."
Emile slowly took a look around, acclimating to the room. He was disappointed not to see any magic staves, but there were potions, scrolls, and wands.
He looked through a bureau stuffed full of scrolls, one of which was ray of enfeeblement.
He picked up the scroll and brought it to the counterperson who had welcomed him in.
"How much for the scroll?"
She looked up, "Strong choice, sir." She smiled, "25 crowns."
Emile handed her the 25 gold, and said, "Thanks. I hear there’s a famous wizard who lives here. Ambrose? Might he be available?"
Her eyes flashed for a moment, but she smiled. "He is quite busy, preparing the city's defense."
"Suit yourself," Emile said, turning to leave. He intended to head for the keep.
"I imagine you should apply to the Defense Council, then," she said coolly.
Emile looked back, "Look, I'll be honest. There's not a lot I’d care to risk my life for. But this repository of magic is on the list. I don't much care about the defense council, but I'd like to help out here if I can."
She set down her quill and looked up, staring directly into Emile’s eyes. "Honest? I'm not sure you have any idea what that word means anymore. Maybe you never did. If you'd like to help the city, or talk to Ambrose, you should head over to the Keep. Either way, I think it is time you take your leave."
"Suit yourself," Emile repeated before heading to the keep.
---
Emile arrived at Brindol Keep, where the hustle and bustle of siege preparation wss in full swing. Everyone was heading somewhere with purpose, except for the two guards at the main door in blue and gold livery.
"Greetings fellows,” Emile said warmly. “I've come to speak with Ambrose the Red. I hear he's helping organize the defenses. Ya know, I'm something of a magician myself. I was thinking he might be the right person to offer my services to."
One of the guards eyed him suspiciously, "Aye, and who may we say is offering services?"
"I don't expect he would know me. Emile Jean-Claude. Of Terredebeau."
The other guard, who had not been paying any attention, looked over.
The first guard let out a low, impressed whistle. "Far from home, sir elf. Welcome to Brindol. I will let the Council know you are here."
The guard escorted Emile into a courtyard and asked him to wait while he went to announce him.
As Emile was waiting he heard a young voice, "Is he an elf, miss?"
He turned to see a little girl staring at him in open wonder. An older woman who was holding her hand while walking had clearly been thrown off by her sudden stop.
"I don't know, lady,” replied the older woman. “He seems regal and mysterious enough. Why don't you go ask him?" She let go of the girl's hand.
The girl ran up to Emile but a word from the woman—"Remember your manners, lady!" —slowed her to a walk as she got closer. She stopped in front of Emile and stared up with wide eyes. "Essuse me Mister Elf, sir. Are you a real elf?"
She curtseyed, as if she just remembered to.
Emile cocked a smile, and knelt down so he was equal height with her. He pulled back his hood slightly so she could see his pointed ears.
"Of course. I got the ears and everything." He chuckled. "And what's your name?"
She stared at his ears in deep appreciation. "Anne, sir. Anne Æthelheah. Does that mean you're magic?"
He smiled again, holding out his hand, and silently cast prestidigitation to create a small flower in his palm. He tucked it behind her ear.
"Of course I am. Now you are too. My name is Emile."
Her eyes widened immensely. She touched the flower and beamed, "I used to pretend sometimes I was magic, and now I am! Thank you, Mister Elf, err--Mister Emile, sir."
Emile smiled. "You're welcome, Lady Æthelheah. Always remember, the best magic is inside here," and he pointed at her forehead.
Her eyes followed everything he did, and almost crossed as they followed his finger to her forehead.
The guard cleared his throat to signal his return, and the older woman said, "Come along, lady. You've taken enough of the good sir's time."
Anne Æthelheah looked up at Emile and said, "I have to go. Gods be with ye, Mister Elf--Emile."
"And with you, my Lady."
She skipped away, clearly thrilled with how her day was going. As she did, Emile stood back up to face the guard.
The guard escorted him to a large chamber, the floors polished smooth and the walls set with many alcoves, each containing a trophy or work of art. The ceiling rose to a cavernous height of nearly forty feet, and deep-set narrow windows reached nearly to that height along the northern wall.
A single long table dominated the middle of the room, its surface covered with books, maps, ledgers, parchments, sketches, drinks, and plates of half-eaten food. Standing at the table, debating, were a lean man with a short, well-trimmed beard, graying hair, and wrinkles that probably made him look older than he really is; a woman with bright red hair worn in an extravagant style and a wearing an elegant courtier's dress; an imposing knight with a stubborn set to his jaw; a woman of unearthly beauty in a white gown accented in the gold trimmings of a priestess of Ghrian; and a skeptical old man in red robes with copper trim who eyed Emile with interest.
The lean bearded man spoke first, "Welcome Emile Jean-Claude, of Terredebeau. You have come a long way to offer your help, and we are grateful."
"It is my pleasure. I had intended to visit the city to parlay with the famed Wizard, Ambrose. But on my way, I heard tale of the darkness that plagues your city. I am not much of a fighter, and conventional wisdom screamed for me to turn around, but . . . I have some ability. Seemed only right that I finish my journey, and offer what help I could," he cleared my throat, "such as it is."
"I am Lord Dearden Æthelheah, this is Lady Treowða Tidfrið, Captain Sig Wulfric, Priestess Wynflæd Gyldenfax, and—"
"And parlay you shall have," the man in red robes cut in dramatically, "for I am Ambrose the Red."
"My lord," Emile put his fist over his chest and offered a slight bow. "Pleasure to meet you all. And Master Ambrose, I have heard tale of your magical prowess, including your repository of learning and knowledge. While you don't know me, I am a noble from the House Jean-Claude, in Terredebeau. I can give you more details later, but my primary mission is to safeguard magic throughout the world, and ensure the continuation of magical practice. I admit, I first came here to learn from you, if possible. Though when I learned of the city's plight, safeguarding the knowledge you have curated became of paramount importance to me."
"It is a pleasure to entertain a noble from so exotic a home,” Ambrose replied. “Two weeks ago I would have asked you what there is to safeguard magic from, but the oncoming Horde will most likely destroy what they do not understand.
“I will take charge of young Master Jean-Claude," he said to the Council. "He can assist me in my preparations."
He wrote a brief note and then sealed it with his signet ring. "Take this to Alandri, at my shop. You know where it is?” Emile nodded. “Good. She will accommodate you."
"Thank you, Master Ambrose. I actually stopped there first looking for you, and she directed me here. I should be able to find my way back quickly. I wish you all luck in the trials to come."
Emile turned to take his leave and head back to Ambrose's shop.
---
He was received somewhat better after Alandri read Ambrose's note. She offered him a chair and a cup of tea while he waited. Otherwise, she seemed reticent and intent on her work.
"Alandri, I know we got off to the wrong foot, and that's my fault,” began Emile. “I'm new to human society.” Alandri snorted as if at an inside joke.
“I was just trying to be clear about my motivations for coming,” continued Emile. “I'm no hero, and I know that. I just don't have time for the politics. If I'm useful, I'll help. If I'm not, I'll leave."
"He thinks you will be useful," she said in her accented Common, "you stay."
"Of course."
---
Eventually Ambrose came back. "Welcome to Brindol. Bad timing, what? With the war on and all. But you want to help, eh? Damned good."
"That's just been my luck, lately, “Emile said. “I'd like to try."
"Well come upstairs and let's see what's what, what?"
Emile followed him upstairs. The second floor was a combination library/laboratory, full of arcane and alchemical research.
"So then," Ambrose said as he patted his hands against his robe, "What can you do?"
"I have some casting ability. I specialize in transmutation."
"I see, yes, well, very good. Transmutation spells prove quite useful in a scrap, eh what? Strength potions and whatnot can make an army superhuman."
"Thats true. Most of my ability revolves around altering/improving things around me."
"I see. Well, we'll find a use for you, to be sure."
"Do they have any intelligence on how close the goblins are?" Emile asked.
"Last we heard they took Nimon's Gap and were on their way to Talar,” Ambrose replied. “They are about a week away. Two at most."
"Guess we better get started."
---
SS 2022 Cat’s Eye 11 - 14
When Ambrose learned Emile could not brew his own potions, he instead had him channel his transmutation magic into items Ambrose crafted and potions he brewed. In his spare time, Emile transcribed ray of enfeeblement from the scroll he bought into his spellbook. Days passed in work, scholarly and arcane.
One day, Ambrose asked Emile to run to the Cathedral of Ghrian to deliver a message to Priestess Gyldenfax and pick up some specially prepared parchment.
---
As he helped raise a tent for the temporary barracks in Cathedral Square, Garrick saw a familiar purple robe.
He had been in Brindol for two weeks at that point, and had grown accustomed to the usual faces. The priests and priestesses of Ghrian and of other faiths had welcomed him as a fellow faithful, but their kindness and genuine interest in his well-being was more like that of a family.
Emile now hurried into Cathedral Square. He had been in Brindol for four days, but spent most of it with his nose in books and scrolls. It was nice to breathe the fresh air, see the faces . . . He recognized one as the idealistic paladin who left Dun with him.
Garrick's eyes met Emile's as he leaned back and dusted off his hands. "I see you made it. A little earlier than you were hoping, I take it?"
Emile froze. "Seems so."
"We don't have to have a more pointed conversation do we?" Garrick asked.
"I've been here helping Ambrose the Red prepare for the attack," Emile replied, still on edge. "That so?"
"So."
"Is there a reason you're here at the Cathedral?" Garrick pressed.
"Ambrose sent me here for some special parchment. We've been preparing scrolls and potions to aid the defenders."
Garrick cocked an eyebrow. "Hmph. I'll take you to the priests. They will let you know what we can spare."
Emile followed Garrick, who brought him to Wynflæd Gyldenfax.
"This here's Emile,” he said. “An interesting fellow. Claims he was sent by Ambrose the Red."
Garrick had better things to do, but he didn't want to let Emile out of his sight while at the Cathedral.
"Ah, yes!" the High Priestess said. "He said he would send someone for the parchment he needs." She turned to a nearby acolyte, "Please fetch the stack of blessed parchments from my table in the sacristy."
Garrick became more at ease once Priestess Gyldenfax indicated they were expecting someone. "Do you need me, my lady?” he asked. “If not, I would return to assist the others."
She smiled the sort of smile that made men glad to be alive, and wistful for dragons to slay and chances to prove their mettle. "No, Sir Balerion, thank you. And thank you for your tireless efforts."
Garrick bowed. "Of course, my lady," he said, blushing slightly. He fought back the blush and locked eyes with Emile as he turned for the door.
They held each other’s gaze for several moments as Garrick walked out.
Emile turned back to Priestess Gyldenfax, "Thank you, my Lady. Ambrose and I will put these to good use."
"Our pleasure to help," she replied. She excused herself and returned to whatever it is that high priestesses do.
Emile riffled the corners of the bundled parchment. There were maybe 50 pages and the twine was not very tight. Surely no one would miss one or two.
Turning a corner around a nearby building, Emile looked back to be sure no one could see him. Then he slipped two of sheets of the fine parchment into his pack. Peering around the corner, Emile gave the cathedral one more look before heading back to Ambrose.