Chapter 2: The Crucible of Freya

He nods. "You're welcome."

To the group, he says, "Maybe we head over to the Cask and Flagon then after we've had our fill of food and drink." He looks over at Corian. "If that's alright by our employer, that is."

Corian agrees with the idea of heading to the Cask and Flagon. He offers to cover rooming, and seems relieved that you all chose the cheaper option of the two. He gives the sense that there isn't as much funding into this expedition as he would like.

---

The Cask and Flagon is easily found where Dalia had instructed. The inn itself is poorly maintained and consists of a large common room with a fireplace, a large kitchen and a storage room in the rear. The common room has four booths along one wall with curtains that can be drawn for privacy. Four dogs sleep on the floor of the common room. To the side of the room, a set of railed stairs allows access to the upper level where the individual rooms are located. As you enter, a hooded figure is climbing the stairs with a large key in hand.

Tarnen, the elderly innkeeper, seems excited to see such a sizeable group enter, as currently only one table is filled with dwarves. Each of the dwarves seems equipped for adventuring, including a shield on their backs that bears the symbol of an axe with a broken haft. Several empty mugs litter their table, and obviously are the cause of the boisterous yelling and tugging of beards. Even from the door you can hear several instances of "Yes, Durgis," and "Right you are, Durgis."

If asked, the innkeeper says that there are currently five of the eight rooms free. Two are filled by the dwarves, and one by another traveler. By this point, it is either late afternoon or early evening, depending on who you ask.

Nebbleshuven leans towards MacDuff and asks in a hushed voice, "Are you familiar with that clan?"

Ryenne can’t help but size herself up against the Dwarven party. Nor can she help but size her troupe up against theirs. In matters of life and death, this wizard may decide to relieve them of their duties, and take up with a close knit group of Dwarven warriors instead.

No matter…

The cleric couldn’t help but think it. Olaf had been slain in the blink of an eye, and there was a wizard’s tower yet to deal with.

"Broken axes on their shields. Is that a… good sign for dwarves?"

"Some clan device," Kariantha supposes, "or perhaps the mark of their mercenary company. Either way, I recommend holding one's breath when you pass by their tables." She'd briefly contemplated hiring the under-mountain-dwellers as guards, but the coins in her purse were too few, and not enough of them were made of gold. This new arrangement with the newcomers was rather a lucky break.

Catching Tarnen's ear, the dark-haired mage says, "I'll be keeping my room after all, Mr. Tarnen," while darting her eyes and eventually her whole face towards Corian.

Faionn marvels at the sprawling business of the place, like termites chewing and weaving through a block of wood. She also can't help but feel a little claustrophobic—it'll certainly be a while before she's comfortable with four solid walls and a roof of worked oak over her head. Her people didn't shy away from working stone and wood, but never to this indulgent extent. Well, as long as these city-folk gave proper thanks to Lady Narrah for the sacrifice of her creation. Even if they didn't, who was she to judge? Wasn't she questing to learn about other cultures?

"I'm afraid I know little of the dwarven culture," she muses to her companions. She remembers the last time she was in a place like this, and how Corian got the party's attention rather quickly. "If we would like to, I suppose, make friends with these folks, I have some funds."

"Depending on their issues with the orcs, we might not have to exchange coin at all. They’re certain to have met them on their way in.

Someone should go and see what they know!"

Someone a little friendlier than a cleric of Thyr…

Datura hops off her stool and claps her hands together,

"Sounds like a job for a gnome! Dwarves love me! I'll just have to try not to talk too much, grumpy lot those dwarves."

She traipses over to the dwarves table and introduces herself.

"Hey! Stonefolk! Don't see too many of us around these parts! Let me buy you lads a round! We just got off the road, killed a few orcs on the way in, no big deal. You boys have any trouble with those green buggers lately?"

The boasting dwarf turns towards Datura without rising from his chair. "If'n ye want to buy us a round, we Dwarves of the Shattered Axe will happily toast t' our diminutive patron! Ye can call me Durgis, leader of this company." Around the table you can hear the interrupted introductions of Trel, Burl, and Gar, as Durgis begins speaking some more. "Ah've dealt with mah share of orcs, but ah haven't had the privilege of facing down the ones around town. 'Sides, they'd flee when they saw the shattered axe!"

Tarnen rolls his eyes a little as the dwarves find someone new to whom to boast, as he deals with Corian and Kariantha. The magic-user and employer requests the remaining rooms; one for Kariantha given her prior arrangement, one for himself and Galdar (who has has taken on as a more personal guard), and the remaining three to be split however they choose. He pulls out four gold coins and then starts fishing through his purse for the silver necessary.

Datura laughs heartily along with the dwarves' boasts, mirroring their mirth and intensity.

"My skinny human pals and I were of a mind to do them all in, for fun! You think the stout men of The Broken Shield might want any part of the glory?"

Grinning a bit as Datura works the room, and the whole table full of dwarves, Silverwick eyes Faionn and Ryenne after the discussion about the rooms.

"I've got room for one more at least," the mage offers. "Maybe two if we can find some extra non-flea-infested blankets..."

"Only if you’re content with simple thanks and a single silver as payment." Ryenne answers back. This cleric of Thyr would begin to feel the meaning of her faith in her stomach, if justice wasn’t brought to either the orcs or the wizard’s tower very soon.

Trel, Burl, and Gar look to Durgis expectantly. He looks at the three of them before turning back to Datura. "Aye, Grodek and I would be glad to assist," he says patting his mundane axe. "If I could recover her from a troll's hoard in the depths of Rappan Athuk*, I can handle a few pig-faced orcs!" Trel, Burl, and Gar all propose a toast to Durgis.

*Rappan Athuk is a famous dungeon somewhere near the eastern coast, known as the Dungeon of Graveyards.

Datura raises her mug in toast to Durgis along with the other dwarves and makes merry with the lot of them until it is time to attend to finding a room. She lets the dwarven cohort know they intend to strike out on the morrow and arranges to meet up in the morning.

Faionn smiles and thanks Kariantha for her offer. "I suppose I'll bunk with Datura; after all, if Monaghan and Nebble take a room together then I wouldn't want to leave her alone." Privately, Faionn is glad to be sleeping with someone else. Back home, she was always rooming with fellow druidic initiates. Sleeping alone was no great pain, but it was a sad and lonely outcome she rarely preferred.

As the dwarves toast loudly and merrily, Faionn reflects that she's glad to have such companionship.

"Sounds like the dwarves are up for some sport." Ryenne says, not without satisfaction as she drinks from her cup.

"They’ll make a contest of it. Every dwarf I’ve ever met has made a contest of everything they’ve ever done!" she says with a laugh.

"We’d better bring our best tomorrow, or we’ll never hear the end of it!"

As the day draws to a close, all seems in order. Your prior adventures behind you, you and your companions sit in the common room enjoying the warm fire and the cold ale. Talk begins to turn, as it always does, to legends of past exploits and to tales of wonder from distant lands, with each of you thinking that one day, folks may well be telling your story in a place such as this.

Folks come and go throughout the evening some spreading rumors and others preferring solitude. It becomes clear that the name Eralion is known in these parts, though few know more than whispers of the man and his tower. "Eralion? Wasn’t he the wizard who built that old keep off in the forest? They say it’s ruined now. I wouldn’t go near it. ‘Happy is the village whose wizards are all ashes,’" says one man, a local farmer who just wishes to have a drink before returning to his too-many children. "I heard tell that long ago Eralion was in love with both Shandril and some witch and Shandril cursed the both of them! They say the old witch still lives in a cave near his keep and mourns for her lost love," says a young woman who seems to find the whole prospect dreamy. From the innkeeper, Tarnen, you hear, "These orc raids have been growing more and more frequent. Bah! It’s as if we live next to Rappan Athuk or some other den of evil!"

It would seem that a destination has been laid out for Corian's search, though he seems rather wary of trying to explore it so soon. "Let us deal with these orcs first," he advises. "Relieve some pressure from the wilderness and earn the goodwill of the town. They would likely not wish us to disturb the keep of a wizard so near to town."

Kari nods at Faionn of the Valley, and at the cleric. "Good enough -- Ryenne, stay with me. And keep your silver, for I believe Corian will foot the payment!"

The woman enjoys the company of her new companions for the rest of the evening, listening for both rumors and whatever she can learn from, and about, the group...

Ryenne nods, secretly relieved to have kept hold of the silver a while longer. Thyr knows she’d need it most when she least had it.

To Corian, she mutters back:

"There’s talk in here if orcs already. If you put your face around and ask some questions, you might take on a reputation."

A reputation that could be used later to gain some leeway on any trouble brought to the town as they group tackles the tower.