The Changing Hunt

You all walk into the Wavecrest Tavern and you are greeted by a large, built man with a mug in his hand that he is drying off.

"Ah, you look worn out from a stressful sea voyage. Welcome to Stormreach. Here, sit at this table.

What can I get you all?"

Ghillie nodded to the bartender and sat.

"Something local," he requested, "heavy on the florals."

Gunnar strides into the establishment, his broad shoulders brushing against both sides of the door frame timbers. He is a big dwarf with hardly any neck, great brawny shoulders, and wild blonde hair. He has a great big bear skin draped over his shoulders, and the mouth of the bear forms a sort of hood, the teeth making something of an upside-down crown. In stark contrast, he wears glasses, the new kind, mounted in thin wire. He also has two prominent tattoos: an axe and lightning, crossed over a shattered gatehouse, on the back of his fist; and five blue stars on his knuckles. Those in the know might recognize these as military insignias of the Mror Howlers, a Dwarven mercenary unit from the Last War.

He scans the new arrivals, trying to decide if they're trouble. Once he's satisfied, he strides to the bar. Whatever his observations were, he doesn't share them.

He turns to the barkeep and starts up a conversation. "I thought you don't rent rooms, Sigmund. This place is getting crowded. At least tell me you got some more of that mushroom beer? I'll take it in my tankard. Many thanks."

He keeps an eye on these newcomers.

"Mushroom beer?" Ghillie chimed in with interest. "I'd try some of that, barkeep Sigmund. It must be good if friend dwarf here enjoys it."

Are you a Mror Howler? I have heard tales about you guys. Where did you serve? Kevin turns to face the dwarf, letting him see the brand on his leather armour, identifying Kevin as an engineer.

Alin orders red wine "Something local if you have it" and cringes at the talk of mushroom beer. He watches the crowd and keep his eye on the reaction of others to the dwarf entering the room.

"I'd advise caution there. You have the beard of a dwarf, but do you have the stomach? Then again, looking at your garb, I'd wager you've had your share of mushrooms."
"I really couldn't tell ya. That's the beauty of the mushroom beer, I don't really recall the details. Us Holwers were brought in as siege breakers more often than not. Laddermen, first up the walls. But walls look pretty much the same from one fortress to the next."

"I see from your brand you were an engineer. Damn, that's almost as dumb as being a ladderman*. Maybe you should join your friend and fill your cup with mushroom beer too. Sigmund! Make it a pitcher and enough cups for everyone!"

---

* This is delivered with a smirk. It might sound like an insult on the surface but a soldier probably recognizes it as meaning respect.

Sigmund walks to the bar, grabs three mugs and places them on the table, in front of Kevin, Gunnar, and Ghillie.

He then walks back, grabs a wine bottle and places it into a leather satchel open on his hip, and then grabs and wine glass and a pitcher of the beer, and then walks over and places the pitcher on the table, as well as placing the glass in front of Alin. He uncorks the bottle and pours, saying, "This here is a good pirate's vintage, if you'll have it. Used to be the stuff of pirate admirals, 'til it came into my hands. Hope you enjoy it. You should really read the label on the bottom of the bottle.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, for now. Gotta get the messy man's floral food, and get the place ready for the arm-wrestling competition."

Gunnar squints suspiciously at mention of looking at the label.

"Usually if I look at the bottom of the bottle it's because it's empty," he says but he flips it over anyway and looks to see what the label says. His gran always said his curiosity would be the end of him.

"You get crazy letters on the bottom of bottles on a regular basis?" Gunnar asks the table.

Alin wipes the wine glass and pours a small amount, he makes a show of swirling it, smelling it and taking a small sip. "The message on the bottom seems to be the ravings a of a pirate who has had too much of this vinegar. Perhaps the only thing relevant is that the pirate may have been a person such as you my friend in the bear cloak, and like my friend Kevin here. " Alin pours half glass of the red liquid into his glass. "I don't think we have your name yet sir, but I shall start. I am Alin of Mistmarch. Pleased, I hope, to meet you."

Gunnar takes a deep breath before launching into it. "I am Dworic Gunnar Broad, thirteenth son of Dworic Fargrim Broad, of the Droranath clan of the Mror Holds. Gunnar will do." His voice recites the names with reverence.

"And yourselves?"

"I actually meant the alcohol..." Ghillie's voice trailed off as the barkeep disappeared. "Ah, well. Local salad and sprigs for the messy man. I'm Ghillie Dhu. I tend gardens and look for exotic plants, and that's what's brought me all the way here."

He poured some of the mushroom beer, sniffed it, sampled a bit with his tongue, then swallowed a mouthful.

"I enjoy the deep yet not overly rich almost maple quality. A fine brew... but why would it have a shopping list of words underneath?"

Kevin turns the text over trying to find a hidden meaning. He has lost all interest in drink and their newfound companion. This is an intellectual puzzle that he would love to solve.

You all see people start to trickle into the tavern slowly, and Sigmund comes out with a couple of barmaids to help seat and serve.

Sigmund also brings out a salad and says, "Hope you enjoy this. It has some local vegetation from here. I had the cook cut down the size of the leaves, since this particular leafy base is the size of an adult human. The flavors in these local leaves I hope is to your liking."

He then walks around the table next to Kevin, nidges him with his forearm, and says, "Gunnar here is the reigning champion of the arm wrestling matches we run every week. I think you should put your hat in the ring, friend."

Gunnar peels off the label so that the engineer doesn't get between a dwarf and his cups. He'll double check that the inside of the label doesn't have any clues.

"No pirate I've known is that smart. I'll wager there's a clue inside the bottle. Or maybe the alcohol has an enchantment so that if you're drunk enough, you can read the blasted thing. I know I always think clearer with a little fermented mushroom to buttress my noggin."

Gunnar is mostly just making excuses to drink, but will pour out the bottle into the remaining and cups and peer inside for a clue before drinking his share of the alcohol.

About the arm wrestling he adds "No magical or mechanical funny business, though."

Oh, it needs a key, or most likely something with a lot of holes, just in the right place, so only the words of the message is shown. Let me see the bottle and its label. Kevin is looking for some patterns that can hide some of the text. It could be the label, or the bottom of the bottle.
This is just like the cryptography in the army. We had a ... He stops himself just in time. We had a system.