Through the Hornwood

Waterday, 5 Coldeven 580 CY
The day is partially overcast and the winds light as your group sets out along the northern road from Gorna. The cool spring air invigorates the senses, adding a bit of excitement and anticipation to your journey. It is still early, with the sun only 2 hours into its trek, but already the city is alive with movement as people rush to and fro. The markets are in full swing, and traders arrive and leave as the blood of mercantilism flows freely across Geoff.

To the south and west, the iconic Russet Tower can be seen sitting high on a hilltop, its walls home to the mage Aedan and his family as well as a small contingent of the Duke's forces that protect the lands from the occasional breech by humanoid invaders. Ahead, the wide road follows one of the many tertiary rivers crossing the lowlands, twisting and turning through the hills and forests.

The wagons travel single file, with Hraefn periodically occupying the rear of the front wagon, while the rest of you move to and fro as you desire, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, sometimes stopping to take in the beauty of the Geoff landscape, all the while moving along a most uneventful path towards Oytmeet. As the sun began its final path westward, dipping behind the tallest of the peaks, the fortified town comes into view.

The walls around Oytmeet are of stone, capped with wooden structures periodically, providing cover for those who may be along the wall-walk. A barbican of two towers flank the entry gate, which stands open and inviting, and even at this hour you can see people moving in and out. Nestled in the valley formed by two long hills, the river road runs through the town and can be seen exiting the far side. Additional roads lead off in other directions, including one to the south and west. Thin streams of smoke exit the numerous buildings within the walls as well as the many farmhouses dotting the landscape, giving a feel of peace and tranquility all around.

"That way'll take us t' Grasmere, your lordship." Elavain says to Caedwyn, indicating the road to the south and west leading from Oytmeet.

"Others both lead t' Lea, though the east road takes us farther into the lowlands. Plenty of farms 'n' the like, not much t' be seen, though." he adds, urging his horse forward and down the hill toward town.

"Aye, sire. Diamond Spider is fair, if a bit more costly. The Grey Minstrel, if you wish t' remain frugal with your coin." says Elavain as he rides ahead.

The setting sun brings with it a slight chill as you all make your way down the hill. From here, you can see that the town lays at the confluence of two rivers, exiting the town as the slightly larger water way that you have been following since leaving Gorna.

"The Blue Oyt and White Oyt rivers there, " says Elavain to any who might be interested. "Come t'gether to make the Oyt Avon as they call it. Oyt River to those who prefer Common tongue. Town is fair enough; good, solid walls and plenty of trade with the dwarves and elves alike. If you look there, you can see the tri-bridge. Had to build it to help with the traders and caravans that come 'round during festival season. Hard t' believe a town like this can swell to thrice its numbers during that time."

Looking out across the town, you can, indeed, see that there are three distinct bridges crossing over the Oyt River along the north edge of town. Across the bridges, you see they all lead to roads that eventually merge into a single path headed north.

At the gates, you are greeted by the town guard who inspect your wagons as well as yourselves before granting you entry through the gates. Atop the walls can be seen periodic patrols of three or four men walk by, their eyes trained outward toward the surrounding countryside. Inside of town, the chill of the air is blunted by the closed in nature of the town. The road is well worn and pitted in places where the ground was at one point muddied and then hardened into a pot hole of sorts.

Elavain leads you straight to the center of town, where a large building stands. Over the stout, oak door swings a large octagonal sign depicting a glistening arachnid framed against a dark web pattern. Along the bottom of the sign reads The Diamond Spider - S. Braz, Proprietor. Already the place looks busy, as bright lights spill out through the heavy, leaded windows and main door and the sound of stomping on wood accompanies a boisterous song.

You all make your way into the Diamond Spider, leaving the soldiers and attendants to take care of the horses and wagons. The interior is a single, large taproom that runs 100' east-west and 80' north-south. The ceiling is vaulted to a height of 20', with an upstairs balcony, bounded by a low wooden railing, providing additional seating. There are two sets of stairs leading up to the upper level. Windows are set up high, above 10', and appear to be placed so as to avoid rowdy people from crashing through them. There are a few open, barred windows set lower to provide a bit of ventilation.

In addition to the main door you enter, there are a pair of other exits, one along the right wall, and one tot he rear by the bar. A large central chandelier hangs in the center of the room, while four smaller ones flank it. Each has numerous candles that reflect off of glass and mirrors to brightly light up the interior space.

A dozen bar maids are running around the taproom tending to patrons, while at the long wooden bar work four bartenders. The main room is packed with clientele, but Caedwyn manages to find a decent table in the back right, near the bar. Besides the plethora of open tables on bot the lower and upper levels, there are also booths along the left and right walls and what looks like a door to a private room along the wall by the main entry. The last thing of note sits behind the bar itself. The wall is etched like a large spider web, the center of which is about 8' high. There, on a shelf in the center of the web, sits a glass case, inside of which is a statuette of a large spider. The statuette itself looks to be carved from a single diamond.

As for the clientele itself, it looks to be a hardy, ragged bunch. off-duty soldiers, ruffians and scalawags appear to abound, all singing, dancing and jostling one anther as a bard stands on a slightly raised platform in the middle of the room, playing a lively tune about virgins and dragons.

Calling out your request, a few of those around laugh, howling wildly as they slap one another's backs.

"Mutton! He says!"

"Roast? Where from? Down at Arkna's butchery? Hahahahahaha!"

Before you answer, a server moves up to your group, counting loudly.

"1...2...3......... 6..7. Seven ales for ya sirs then? Ain't no mutton or roast, though plenty o' figs, fruit, cheese an' breads fer ya lord an' ladyships." the girl says. She is human, slim and tall, with her dark hair pulled back into a tail. Wisps of hair float across he face, giving her a flustered look.

"If yer be looking for a full meal proper, best bet is the Minstrel, sirs. Better rooms, too, if I do say so. We's got a couple rooms with warm 'nuff beds, but not sure if there even be room this late in the day. Master Braz can tell ya the details. He's right there." the girl adds, pointing to a lone man sitting in a booth across from you.

While there are no card games going on at the moment, there is a plethora of drunk people engaged in various sporting activities. Most patrons are gathered near the center stage, where a lithe half-elf continues to strum a lute and dance away as he belts our rowdy tune after rowdy tune.

However, along the entry wall (bottom of the lower level map - Area E) are a group of people throwing daggers at targets. They are in various sectioned off 'lanes', with one person and one target per lane. The last lane is not throwing daggers, but rather has a long table with people at both ends. It appears to be a spider racing contest, as several spiders are put on a track with insects at the far end. Wagers are being called out everywhere.

It is not long before the girl and two others return with a round of drinks and three platters of foodstuffs; Sliced sausage links, mustards, breads, fruits and three different cheeses are piled on and slid onto the table. Along with those, large tankards of ale are sloshed across to each person, most making the trip while a few frothy splashes land on the table and a couple of laps.

"Tankards are a silver per, ladies and sirs, and the trays themselves are 2 apiece." the lead girl says, standing next to Caedwyn and smiling.

"First time here in the Oyt? Business here or elsewhere? Not often we seen so many sell swords gathered in one spot. Must be a great tale, sirs."

Across the room, Merri, you note that it is as any other race. Bets are made prior to launching the spiders, with each spider getting odds to win based on its past history. Most of the spiders look to be of the average stock, tarantula, etc., though a couple of rather sizable daddy long-legs are in the mix, as is a fat brown spider. A chalkboard is in place of where the normal dagger target would be, with the spider names written and the odds next to the name. People are placing bets with a man who appears to be working for the house. He sports normal clothing, but has a club leaning up against the wall next to him. He takes names and bet amounts and when all is set the spiders are released.

Names on the board include Arachnado, Curly Eyes, Leggins Mcghee, Chitty Chitty Fang Fang, Boris, and Lem. It seems that Boris has been on a good run, coming in at 2-1 odds, while Lem is the new guy and is posting 10-1 odds.

As Caedwyn finishes his tale, and he looks back up at the lead server girl, he is surprised to see her standing there with the second round of drinks. She must be fast, or your tale long, but regardless you all now have two drinks on hand.As she bids her leave, a slim, olive-skinned man steps up to your table. He wears gaudy robes which cover what looks to be a sleek leather armor beneath. His hair is curly and peppered, his face clean shaven except for a long, fu-Manchu style mustache. He bows slightly to you all and straightens himself.

"Welcome, good fellows. I am Braz. Spider Braz, your humble proprietor. I trust things are to your satisfaction thus far?" he asks.

MerriTaking a quick look at the man taking wagers, you see that he writes the wagers down on individual pieces of paper, takes the wager and puts everything in a small box which he then sets on a the counter in front of him. From your vantage, it appears visible to all participants throughout the race.

Hraefn carefully watches the arachnid contestants as the wagers continue to come in. By far, Boris has garnered the most support, but something about him puts Hraefn off. It looks like Boris is full, so perhaps he may not be as eager as the rest to go after the insects at the far end of the table. Lem, however, looks like he is ready to storm the walls to get to them.

As you all enjoy the festivities, Spider Braz moves on to other patrons, shaking hands, welcoming regulars and saluting those he knows well. The bard finishes his time, and a hush falls across the taproom as attentions seem to turn toward the back of the room. A female figure, human, dressed in exotic silk clothing is making her way through the crowd. Her hands lightly caress men as she walks seductively toward the center of the performing platform and as she steps up, a deafening cheer goes up, welcoming the next act of the night.

The woman is beautiful, with long, silky black hair. Her make-up is meticulous and bright, highlighting her cheeks and brow while her purple lipstick sets well against her bright green eyes. Her clothing is similar in fashion to those worn from the countries of Zeif and Ull to the northwest across the mountains, and her brown skin looks natural as opposed to by the sun.

The crown begins to chant the name 'Zyria', as the previous performer begins to beat on a drum, a heavy beat that can be felt within your chest. As he does, Zyria begins to dip and sway across the floor, seemingly floating across the wood as the crowd moves and sways with her.

Merriweaether
You slide past your target, slipping a small dagger out as you pass by. With a smooth swipe, your razor-thin blade slips through the purse strings like melted butter, and the coin pouch falls to your other hand. A split-second later you step away, losing yourself in the pressing crowd.

Merriweather
Looking around, the only items you see are on the person of the wage keeper.

Merriweather
The man holding the parchment looks you over, then turns back to the race about to begin.

"Get your'n papira frum der bozz, Brazz. Dis bein fur de race." he says. Just before the race begins, a last minute wager is placed by Hraefn. The man takes a small piece of paper from his belt, scribbles the wager onto it, and tosses the paper and coin into the small chest in front of him.

A minute later, he calls out "No more bets! Release der bug!"

At the far end of the table, a small gate opens and three small insects crawl out. Immediately, the spiders enter into attack mode, slowly crawling their way across the table. Suddenly, Boris begins racing across, taking the lead as the others shrink back. Halfway across the table, Lem makes a huge leap, landing on Boris and knocking it down. A spit second later, Lem pounces again, landing on one of the insects. A cheer goes up in the crowd, rivaling those cheers of the people watching the exotic dance, while other cry out in frustration at having lost the round of bets. Lem's handler quickly gathers him up, receiving his prize money from the race monitor.

Winnings are distributed, and Hraefn suddenly finds himself 9 gold lions richer. The monitor cries out that the next race will be in 1 hour, with the same contestants, so if people want to bet they need to begin placing bets now. Elsewhere, the dance ends, with Zyria moving over and joining Spider at the bar, a throng of admirers pressing in, trying to get a word or touch of the dancer. A small human man runs around the room with a large sack, taking tips from those who enjoyed the show. In the back of the room, another cheer erupts as one of the dagger contestants apparently scored a perfect score in the dagger throws.

Lastly, a tavern MC moves to the center of the entertainment platform and begins calling for contestants for Twezeliewop. As calls come in, many for their friends rather than themselves, a large log is dragged into the center of the space.

Merriweather
The bartender continues wiping a mug as the crowd around him hollers for more ale. Moving up, you slide your coin across, asking about the latest happenings. He ignores you at first, giving you a quizzical eye, filling a few tankards and sliding them across to the haggard server girls.

Finally, he comes back, another mug of ale in hand. He slides it over to you, then grabs your coin. Pocketing it, "News? In the Oyt? Hah! Must be new, you must. Bout the only thing that happens is the mine findin' a rich vein that needs transport through town goin' to Loftwick. Or some raidin' party of orcs come down outta the peaks before the king gets 'is troops on 'em; or maybe the stray giant or two. If yer lookin' for adventure, best bet is to try elsewhere." he says as he steps away to fill another mug of ale.

The bartender stops for a second and looks you over. "I 'spose ain't no one person in charge really." he replies, emphasizing the words in-charge.

"Town has a council of sorts, what to run the daily things like town business and all. A few o' the more well off folk tend to it, whilst the rest of us just meander along mindin' our own business."

The bartender shrugs. "Dunno. I 'magine there's always work to be had. Just not for me." he replies.

"You plannin' on drinkin or talkin'? Cuz I got folks wantin' to be drinkin'." he adds, looking a bit more stand-offish that he had been.

The MC continues his call for contestants, and finally manages to get a small group of people up onto the entertainment floor. The first two opponents are given small sacks of grain, and told to stand at opposite ends of the log.

"Place your bets with Ingrid there!" the MC calls out, pointing to a red haired woman at the end of the floor, closest to the bar.

"First round contestants are Thadius, there!" he points to the first man. Thadius looks to be in his thirties, with greasy hair and a stubble of growth coming from his wide chin. One of his ears looks like cauliflower, as it is all mangled and deformed. The man smiles, showing that his two front teeth are missing.

"And over here, we have Caleb!" the MC continues, pointing to a thin, rail of a man. Caleb stands a full foot taller than his opponent, but is perhaps half as heavy. He is pale to the point of being bluish, his eyes are a pale blue as well, while his hair is a pale, pale blonde color. He smiles, and fortunately has all of his teeth present.

"First to fall off the log is the loser! Winner advances to round two! Get your bets in before we start! Sixty seconds!" the MC adds. People near the center begin to loudly count down, as a few scramble to place their bets.

The crowd continues to slowly count down, with the last five seconds including the stomping of feet. As they reach zero, the MC calls for the battle to begin. The two men wobble unsteadily on the log as they move toward one another, trying their best to stay on the log while beginning to swing the bags of grain.

Thadius is the first to lash out, swinging low for Caleb's legs, while Caleb goes high with an overhead swing. Caleb does his best to avoid the blow by jumping, but misjudges and gets caught on the lower leg. However, he keeps his balance and slams down onto Thadius' head, a loud 'Ooof' accompanying the blow.

Both men land, seemingly keeping their balance, when suddenly the log shifts, sending both men stumbling. They both fall backward off of the log, but the heavier Thadius his first. The MC cries out "Winner!" as his hand points toward Caleb, at which point the crowd goes crazy.

In the aftermath, Caedwyn receives his coin back twofold, having bet on the correct man to win the contest.

"You are definfitely correct in that regard, Ser Hraefn," said Bram with a smile, something you had seen little of to date. "I don't wish to leave the others completely, though. Perhaps just outside on the street would suffice."

While you all begin to settle in with one another a bit, the MC calls out loudly "Next participants to your marks!"

You watch as a grizzled looking man in perhaps his forties steps up. He has a demeanor much like a soldier or one used to being in a strict group. Though he wears a loose tunic and common trousers, you can see the muscles flexing underneath as he takes his sack of grain. His opponent is a lithe woman, perhaps halfway between five and six foot, wearing a soft leather top and silk pants. She wears no shoes, but the dirt on her feet indicate that this is normal for her. She twists, turns, and flashes a smile along with waves to various people in the crowd, getting them psyched for the upcoming bout. She, too, grabs her sack of grain, stepping up to the log and half-bowing to her opponent.

"Place your bets! Sixty seconds to start!" the MC calls out once again, as the crowd cheers and once again begins her countdown.

"Here we have your contestants!" calls out the MC. "Jerza Darkeyes! Welcome back, m' lady!" he says, sweeping his arm to the girl, which brings a huge roar from the crowd. "And here we are most honored to have his lordship, Captain Thoros Chandler, your very own captain of the guard! Welcome to the arena, sir!" he says, sweeping the other way to the man at the far end. Again, the crowd erupts, in particular a gathering group of what appear to be off-duty soldiers are calling out encouragement to their leader.

As the count reaches zero, the MC calls for them to fight. Thoros shuffles quickly forward, stopping when he sees Jerza leap high and flip in the air. Unfazed, the warrior plants himself and at the instant her feet land, he shuffles again, this time sideways, making the log roll. Jerza, hitting the log and trying to sweep one of her legs in an effort to topple Thoros, finds herself without any footing. Her lone good leg flips out from under her. As she scrambles to regain her balance, Thoros follows up with a sweeping blow that catches the firl in her midsection.

A loud WOOOOOSH of air bursts from her lips as the captain of the guard sends her reeling a full five feet backward, landing solidly on her back at the edge of the arena. The crowd pauses for the briefest of moments before cheers go up for the captain.

"Winner!!" calls the MC, gesturing to Thoros, much to the delight of his fellow soldiers.

Caedwyn
You see the apparent owner, Spider Brazz, by the bar, swapping laughs and tales with some of the patrons there.

Cædwyn
Spider Brazz looks your way, smiling. "Forgive my rudeness. I was but enjoying a bit of fun with these good fellows. Sometimes my focus wanders on nights of revelry such as this. I am sure you can understand?" he says. Brazz's voice is soft and smooth, as one accustomed to speaking for long times, or one who is quick witted might do when caught in an embarrassing situation.

"I'm afraid that all that remains is the common area, though it is warm and comfortable enough. More suitable quarters for a distinguished lord such as yourself, however, would be better served at the Minstrel down the street. A bit quieter, more reserved, and usually plenty of vacancies." he adds, the smile never leaving his face as he speaks.

Hraefn
"Oy! Drinks ya say!! Why, fer shore, ser, I'll be drinkin' what er' ya be payin fer!" the man says, reaching an unsteady hand to the tankard offered.

"The Barriers, ya say? Plenty o' story about them cursed hills t' be sure, but what yer goin' for? E'vn the giants and beasties there are fleeing; or, so says' m' brother Ollister!" The man half-drinks, half-pours the ale down his beard, which acts like a sieve as the foam gets trapped and the liquid runs down his equally wet shirt front.

"Gold ya say!?" the man says, gulping down more of the offered ale. "Truth, you say? Caves o' gold I haen't heard about, ser, but if 'tis true, I've no doubt the beats roamin' those peaks would be first t' claim them for sure!"

With an loud, extended belch, the man wipes his thick, soggy beard and then licks the moisture from his fingers. In a lower voice, he whispers to Hraefn

Ilwyn and Caedwyn
You depart the Diamond Spider and weave your way down the main road towards the center of town. The night air has brought with it a slight chill, and most people you pass are those staggering back from their favorite tavern. A few businesses show the glow of lamp light from within, but none are still open for business. Two blocks down, however, you see the warm glow coming from a large, two-story structure. As you approach, you see a large hanging sign painted with a ghostly minstrel, the name 'The Grey Minstrel' written along its bottom.

Stepping into the interior is vastly different from the one you just left. The entry is more of a large foyer, with a reception desk along the back wall. A pair of swinging doors open to the right, leading into what looks to be a tavern or eating area. A young woman, perhaps in her mid twenties stands behind the desk, and smiles as you enter. She is human, conservatively dressed with a neck-high white blouse and a long, flowing, blue skirt tied at the waist with a white sash. Her hair is similarly styled, with blue and white ribbons interleaved with her hair to hold it up and out of her face.

"Welcome sir, lady, to the Grey Minstrel. My name is Olivia. Are you needing a room for the night? The kitchen is closed, but I think we might be able to get them to put something together for you, should you wish. Of course, the tavern area is open a few more hours yet."

The night moves slowly along, with more battles waging on the main floor, while a bard begins to strum a drinking song as he weaves his way through the crowd. An hour later, and several close calls, Thoros is crowned champion of Twezeliewop, earning a small brass chalice and a purse of 20 gold coins.

As the crowd returns its attention to themselves, you all find yourselves at your table, tankards empty.

Merriweather
Exiting the tavern, you see a long, low building set back about 50 feet from the tavern. There are 10 doors lining the front, each having a large number painted on it. There are a few stragglers moving around, most looking like they are drunk, or, at least, feeling good. Most disappear into town, though a couple of people enter into the door numbered '3'.

Looking at your key, you see the little placard attached to it has the number '8'. Moving to the door, you slip the key into the lock and hear the latch release.

Merriweather
Sticking to the shadows, avoiding any of the late-night revelers, you manage to open the door and slip inside. The interior is dark, as there are no apparent windows or other exits from the room. Without the aid of some form of light source, you cannot see anything at all.

Merriweather
Within the room itself, you sense nothing. It is quiet. You can hear people moving and bumping about in rooms adjacent to yours, as well as some noises from outside, but nothing troubling.

Ilwyn and Caedwyn
"Two single rooms it is, m' lady and sir." Olivia replies, taking a gold coin from each of you. She turns and retrieves a pair of room keys, each with a small leather strip attached. Each is etched with a number, 8 and 9.

"If you go outside and left, there is a stair outside leading to the upper floor. Or, you can go into the tavern area there" she says, pointing through the interior double-doors. "To the back and left again you will see the hallway leading out of the dining room. At the end you will see a stair going up as well. Your room numbers are on the key there. Breakfast begins one hour before sun up, if you are so inclined. Two silvers is the normal price, unless you wish a custom meal, then it is the chef's price."

Bram
You follow behind Ilwyn and Caedwyn, occasionally looking back to check on your companions. They enter into a large, two-story building and by the sign you note that it is the other inn your guide spoke of, The Grey Minstrel. Your two companions are inside, just paying, apparently, for their rooms. A young girl stands behind the reception desk and is telling them something. As you step in, she pauses, looking at you with a questioning look, almost as if your arrival has interrupted or given her pause.

Pausing a second, she continues in a low whisper.
"If you see... you know... him... pay no mind. He hasn't ever really hurt anyone, just caused a bit of mischief."

Merriweather
The lantern flares to life, revealing a simple, two-man room. A pair of beds stand against each wall, and a single wardrobe sits against the wall between them. There is a small table with a pair of partially burned candles and two chairs. There is also a small wash basin on the table as well. Other than that, the room is empty.

Merriweather
The wardrobe is empty

Merriweather
A careful search under one of the beds reveals that along the right wall are a pair of loose boards. Inside, you find a small carry pack.

Merriweather
You carefully replace the satchel and boards, then quickly exit the room. You peer out, watching some passers-by, then dart back across the open space between the tavern and rooms. As you return to the taproom, you see the fellow who you took the key from, head down and passed out at a table. His friends are still around him, singing loudly in an (unsuccessful) effort to match the tune of the bard.

Bram
"Of course, sir. That will be 2 gold for the rooms, and two silver for your breakfast." the girl replies. "Or four silver, if you wish to pay for your friend's meal as well, sir." she adds.

Taking your coin, she turns around and fishes out a room key. It has a leather strip with the number 18 etched into it.

"You can access the upstairs by going outside and to your left. There are stairs at the corner of the building. Or, through these doors, through the taproom and dining area to the back hallway, where you will find stairs leading up as well." she says, gesturing to the double doors leading to the interior of the inn.

Etna
The girl behind the desk smiles and nods, turning to retrieve a key. It is a standard skeleton type, with a thin piece of leather attached to it. Etched into the leather is the number 15.

"You can access the upstairs by going outside and to your left. There are stairs at the corner of the building. Or, through these doors, through the taproom and dining area to the back hallway, where you will find stairs leading up as well." she says, gesturing to the double doors leading to the interior of the inn.

"Breakfast begins an hour before sunup, should you desire to partake. Normal meals are for an additional 2 silver pieces."