Chapter Three - Return to the Mournland

Trusk finishes his whiskey and signals the halfling barkeep for another. "The Flame granted me a vision of a terrible evil in the Mournland. I do not have details, yet I know I am to be here."

Tryne smiled broadly, "Insanity maybe... or blind stupidity."

Looking out at the nearly abandoned rail platform, the bright haired young man finally started to head into town. Tapping his lion friend lightly on the head, "Stay close..."

Making his way through the town, Tryne having grown up on the streets, kept a wary eye out for anything dangerous, while also keeping track of various routes of escape. He was no longer the scrawny boy who would get mugged easily, but it never hurt to be careful, and he liked to have the lay of the land where ever he happened to be.

This city bred survival instinct is also why upon arriving at the Grey Beyond, Tryne watched the entrance for several minutes and then did no less than two full laps around the streets around the building before entering. Always good to know where you would end up if you had to duck out the back door.

The place reminded him a little of the bar he frequented back in the slums, which should be more than enough reason to avoid the place, but with a broad smile, Tryne entered to have a look around. He recognized a few people from the train, the two massive warriors drinking shots next to the refined elf sipping a glass of wine was definitely not something he expected.

Working his way up the bar, finding a place toward the end where he could sit his lion, he caught the attention of the halfling working the bar, "Ale please."

Snacking on one of the small pastries Meepo walks into the Grey Beyond.
He walks off to the side as to not block the entrance before scanning the room. Looking for the job board he wanders over by it and pulls up a seat at the closest empty table. Thinking to himself how it would be awkward to sit down with a group of people that doesn't know him but starting a conversation at the job board might easier for him. He sits there and waits for the first person to walk up to the board while he munches on his pastry.

Tryne had long ago embraced the vibrant hair he had inherited from his mother, at least he was never missed in a room.

Accepting the welcome with a broad smile and a wink behind the orange tinged glasses, "Thanks Roz, I'm Tryne." he accepted the ale "Rail was fine, better than walking certainly."

Bar tender with a sense of humor, always a plus in Tryne's book. He glanced down the bar at the others he had seen on the platform, "Plenty of newly arrived fortune hunters, should be interesting."

"What exactly happened with the warforged?"

Torhak chuffed, his nose ring flaring upward with the exhale. It wasn't derision or some haughty display, but rather one of recognition. It was something his father had done, and his mother to a lesser degree. He wasn't sure if all Minotaurs did it, but it was unconscious, and he had been told it was rude in the past. "There is nothing more convicted than a warrior led by the divine." Torhak held up two meaty fingers to Roz the bartender, and then pointed one down at the bar in front of him, and then another down in front of the orc. "You speak well, I hope to one day see your weapon in battle against evil, or in service to best personal interest."

Torhak had noted that several other passengers from the train had come in, including the woman drinking wine a couple seats down, a Kobold who sat alone near the job board, and a wildly orange haired man. It was no surprise to him that this town on the edge of madness would attract such a wide variety of people.

The flaming haired new comer listened intently to the story, looking up at the trophy after Roz has finished. "Dang... that sounds like a hell of a fight..." he took a long drink from his ale. "Guess there is no telling what someone might find in there or what might come out looking. That explains the damaged buildings I saw walking through the streets."

"Yes, a mighty battle indeed." Trusk nods in agreement. "I would love to meet these scrappers."

Looking up at the large orc waiter Meepo says "ill have the cheapest meat you have." then looking over at the bar where Roz seems to be getting energetic with a story Meepo tells the waiter that he'll be moving to the bar if thats ok. Then quietly wanders over to the bar area hoping to catch part of the story time the bartender is giving. Excited to hear the ongoings of the town and whom he may try to get to know.

Laulalith listens attentively to the halfling's tale, appreciating her skill as a storyteller."A wonderful tale, and a most gripping retelling!"

She pauses for a moment, recalling a specific part of the Roz's story. "Ah, but I do hope that not everything that happens in the Grey has to stay in the Grey. You see, I am not here looking for gold or glory. I come seeking stories!"

She stands up, and gives a small bow and a flourish with her cloak. As she does so, her practical and common clothing is instantly transformed: Her cloak turns from brown threadbare wool to a rich vermillion silk, and her tunic becomes deep purple laced with silver.

"Allow, me to introduce myself: Laulalith the Bard, at your service." She holds the slightest of pauses to see if anybody reacts to her name, but continues unfazed when no recognition is forthcoming. "I have grown weary of telling the same tired stories and singing the same old ballads. I seek new stories! True stories! Stories about the triumphs and tragedies of the scrappers of the Mournland. Stories like the one you just told us. Stories that will resound through the ages ... if told correctly."

She turns to the minotaur and the orc next to her. "Is it not better to have the stories of your heroics told! To have your name remembered?" She makes eye contact with the orc and continues. "To inspire others to follow in your footsteps and fight the evils that plague these lands?" She smiles to both of them. "That is where I come in."

If this works - if she can convince the scrappers and salvagers to bring their stories to her - then she will have turned them into her eyes and ears in the Grey. Not just these two new arrivals, but all the lost souls hungry for recognition. Now she just has to convince them that she is indeed the right person to tell their stories.

She turns back to Roz. "Would your patrons be interested in a show? I could do a reenactment of the story you just told: The Titanic Battle for Salvation. I could do it tonight if it suits you." She winks at the barkeep "It will surely bring in a thirsty crowd"

Laulalith gives Roz another wink. "Let's see if you can handle what I've got."

As she approaches the stage, the lamps in the room go out one after another - each emitting a small pop and a puff of smoke. In the spreading darkness, a deep drum starts beating to the rhythm of her steps. It is low and almost imperceptible at fist, but gradually grows in power until it is loud enough to draw the attention of the entire room. When she reaches the stage, the drumbeat stops abruptly, and a single light springs to life to illuminate her clearly from the front. She is now clad completely in black, and in the darkness it looks almost like her pale head is a disembodied apparition floating above the stage.

Her voice is clear as she adresses the crowd: "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a tale of heroism and sacrifice. A tale of valour and woe. I - Laulalith the Bard - give you: The Titanic Battle for Salvation!"

She shouts the title of the performance, and then the stage behind her starts transforming as it is gradually covered in layers upon layers of illusions giving the false impression of depth and building a backdrop that is recognisable as the main street of Salvation Outpost.

Only then does she start her ballad. It is a simple composition - nothing her old teachers would have been pleased with, but she has no time for refining it further, and she suspects that the audience lacks the refinement to appreciate anything better. Hopefully, the theatrics of her performance will capture them more than the words.

As she starts singing, the beating drum resumes and a gigantic image of the Titaness appears on stage. The illusion stomps forward, and the audience is immediately gripped by an inexplicable and quickly fading wave of fright.

As the story unfolds, Laulalith assumes the appearance of each of the main characters. She becomes, in turn, a tall gnome, a short warforged, a knight, and all the other characters of the story. Eventually, the cannon appears at back of the taproom and fires a shower of harmless sparks towards the stage.

Finally, when the show is over, the lights return to the lamps and Laulalith gives the audience a deep bow.