Candlekeep

Keggruk rolls his massive shoulders uncomfortably. He gently pushes Bert to arm's length away, and frees his hand from Aiwe's grasp, though he does give her a small smile. "It is done," he whispers. "We should get settled into our rooms."

Imoen is happy to fill the silence after Kay's introduction. "Kay! What a beautiful name. Simple, but positive! I love it!" She bounces around meeting all the travelers one by one. She wrinkles her nose at Ossein and Bert, but politely doesn't comment on their smell.

As she meets each of the young women, Imoen practically glows. "Oh, I'm sure we'll become the best of friends! How long are you all planning on staying, anyhow?"

When she meets Sheemish, she can't contain her curiosity. "Are you holding... underwear? Well, at least they're not golden pantaloons. Boy, do I have some stories..."

Rift makes her eyes widen. "Awww... Well aren't you the cutest dragonborn I've ever seen! How old is he? Can I give him some candy? Here you go, little guy."

Mumbling her name and nothing else as an introduction, Wirrow lets her friends--and whoever these extras Keggruk brought along are?--take over the talking. Things are already moving faster and differently than she'd expected.
Somehow, Wirrow doubts that. Not out of unkindness necessarily, but... well, one Aiwe's worth of excitability already felt like a little much sometimes. Though of course, that same Aiwe would probably tell her to give the inarguably cute girl a chance. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't; it would depend on how long they stay.

Speaking of which, Wirrow shrugs at Imoen's question to the group; Keggruk is in charge of how long they're all staying, not her.

After Imoen picks up the conversation, Stella notices Kay's discomfort and waves to her with an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.
"I'm Stella! We're from the north, the Icewind Dale. I can't wait to see the star charts of this region...oh, and cookbooks! And herbalist guides, and spells, and—well...I suppose my reading list can wait until after we've got our rooms." She grins sheepishly and twirls a lock of hair around her finger. "Stars...if I had my way, we'd probably be here for months! But that probably won't be the case."
"I think that's actually outerwear," Stella says, trying not to look at the disgusting and impractical garment. Did he really bring that...?

"there are some family friends here that I am to help on a journey. I’ve never met them but I’ve been told they’re good people I took the job to guard the caravan to help me travel over here. I grew up in an isolated village but have spent the last two years living with a dwarf named Tulfgar, he’s a great man and has taught me a lot about everything"
I was honestly a little surprised by the gibberlings...I thought they’d have more mouths

Imoen nods excitedly at Stella, but then her face falls. "Well, I'm afraid the most anyone can stay here at a time is a tenday. So today being the 2nd of Mirtul, you all will need to leave on the 11th at the latest." She brightens up again. "But that's plenty of time to have some fun together!"
"I... Oh, well in that case... I apologize for the little misunderstanding." Imoen covers her mouth, stifling a giggle. "I've got more candy, whenever you want it."

She lifts an arm high and waves for the group to follow her. "This way, Seekers! First stop is the House of Rest!" The girl practically skips across the flagstones to a three-story wooden building.

She throws open the front door. "Winthrop! We've got a new group of eight here!" She turns to the party. "Winthrop is my dad. Well, adopted dad. Erm, well he adopted me. And I love him like he was my dad. And he's the innkeeper!"

Imoen waves them all inside.

A portly man, mostly bald but with a full beard, greets them heartily inside the House of Rest. "Greetings and hello! Name's Winthrop, and welcome to the House of Rest." His eyes flick over each of the companions, mentally confirming their number. "And how would you like to be situated? We can have up to four to a room!"

"You've somewhere else to be, boy?"

Shar-Teel stands at the door, arms folded as she glares at Dieter. "Koveras isn't going to like hearing that. With so few guards, getting back to Beregost or wherever else will be riskier than usual." A bored sneer plays across her face, as though she finds the situation distasteful, but she's too apathetic to give it full emotion. "This is the kind of stupidity you get with male hirelings."

"Sleep is for mortals, if it's the same to everyone else, I think I'll go for a walk. Use what money you safe on my lodging and buy an extra round tonight. I'll see you all in the morning."


Pausing briefly to see if there are any objections, Ossein leaves.

Shar-Teel snorts. "I didn't return to save you. Koveras paid me extra to turn around."

The warrior woman shakes her head. "If you and your little friends want to work for Koveras, that's between you and him." She leaves.

Dieter chuckles " I didn’t realize we were minding our own business, apologies."

Mumbling to himself to fit in, Ossein goes in search for entertainment. Something that could last for hours, hopefully most of the evening. A library, perhaps a solid sermon from some of the followers of Hoar, a roudy tavern, heck, he'd even settle for a grave digging. Letting Bert pick a random direction, they're off.

A few moments later Koveras comes in holding two hefty coin purses, which he tosses to Runeson and Dieter. "As agreed, 26 gold each."

The half-orc merchant glances up and down the hallway, then lowers his voice. "Dieter. Did you happen to return to the wagon after the attack?"

"My apologies I was not able to. I came straight here."

Given free rein, Bert happens to wander towards the green door set along the west wall of the Court of Air. As he nears it, Ossein realizes that calling this thing a door is like calling this library-fortress a mere collection of books. It's 15 feet tall and made of a translucent dark green stone that glows with an inner light.

A robed dragonborn stands vigil in front of the door, eyes following Bert as he shambles across the courtyard. "What do we have here?" The dragonborn's voice is low and dry, but obviously feminine. "Have you escaped from a guest necromancer?"

The merchant nods without blinking. "I need to send you out to recover its contents. The wagon itself, if you can find some way to fix it. But if not, all of its contents." His gaze takes in Runeson as well. "The sooner, the better. Shar-Teel is needed for other tasks here, and I doubt that the archer, Jasan, is capable at this point. You may want to ask about Candlekeep and see if you can round up anyone else willing to accompany you. I trust your judgement in who you hire on my behalf."

He turns to leave, but then pauses in the doorway. "This cursed Iron Crisis is getting worse. I paid good money for that wagon, only to have the iron axle snap at a small amount of pressure. And that knife they took out of your side, Runeson, it shouldn't have broken. Anything with iron in it could fail us at any time. Be wary."