The Lost Academy of Khazarum

[H Savvy]

Prologue: The Friendly Farmer Inn

The gentle, rolling hills of central Corridan fade towards the eastern end of the continent, becoming first wide, grassy flatlands and then light forest before meeting the great, winding coastline of the Ocean.

Dotting the great Ocean Coast is a line of port cities, stretching from the borders of the southern elvish lands northward, through the Allied cities of Bay Abilon and Bay Harcott and beyond, to the Njorväl fjords of the coastal dwarves.

But while the trade routes along the Corridanian coast are well known and well-traveled, many of the "port cities" along it are little more than fishing villages, ill-equipped to berth the larger ships that merchants favor. It is thus only the very large ships, stocked well enough to travel between the true port cities, that sail the length of the coast with any quantity of cargo. Short-range ferrying, shuttling from one city to another, is still viable, and travellers in a hurry sometimes choose this route, provided they have plenty of coin to spend.

It is for these reasons that many merchants and many adventurers choose instead the East Coastal Road, a vast highway that stretches nearly the length of the continent. A business venture started by the Allied Nations to promote trade, the Coastal Road is a wide, well-maintained road through the Nations, and for a long stretch beyond its borders. The smaller nations to the south, seeing the Road as a way to boost their economy, soon joined in on the project, adding their own sections of the Road.

The Road is continuous, but the quality of its construction and upkeep vary from region to region, being finely cobbled in Wyalla and Holtland, and little more than dirt trail in a few of the poorer nations along its length.

Still, the East Coastal Road is a fine way to travel, as it is for the most part flat and clear, with light forest bordering it on the west and a beautiful Ocean view to its east, sometimes sandy beaches, and occasionally, small but breathtaking white cliff beaches.

In the barony of Pillslydale, an unremarkable and utterly forgettable nation, it is a fine spring day, and travel along the East Coastal Road is as pleasant as it has ever been. The skies are clear and the weather is pleasantly cool, a refreshing change, for it has been hot of late, and the Ocean breeze comes as a relief to the travellers along the Road.

But the wind has a certain cold humid edge, the kind that old grandfathers feel in their bones and declare that soon it will be "a mother's mother of a rainstorm."

They are, of course, absolutely correct. As evening falls, the wind picks up, and ominous banks of dark grey clouds roll in, poised, waiting...

KRACKA-KOOOOM!!!

Somehow, it seems to be raining.

KEERRRAAACK-KOOOM!!

It is soon readily apparent that making camp in this would be foolhardy for all but the most seasoned veterans of wilderness life. It is readily apparent shortly thereafter that even the most seasoned veterans of wilderness life would seek real shelter in this storm. None but the most naturalized and wild druids would be out in this, and they'd likely be soaked to the bone and miserable.

Fortunate it is, then, that the subtle glow of lantern-light is visible up ahead, even through the driving wind and sheets of rain. It appears to be an inn, a squat, sprawling building built along the East Coastal Road to provide a place of rest to its travellers.

KERRAAACK!

The creaking, hand-painted wooden sign swinging wildly in the winds and slapping against the side of the building features a charming image of a cartoon farmer, pitchfork in hand and straw hat perched on his widely grinning head. The bold white text next to it declares it to be the Friendly Farmer Inn.

[Adjudicator]

Prazik Wynn

Prazik scowled in frustration at himself as he left his horse at the stables. It had been so long since he had been in Corridan that he had completely missed the signs of the approaching storm. By the time he had realized how bad the blow was going to be, the Friendly Farmer was the only place in range. By the time he had stabled his mount and made his way to the Inn, the rain was really coming down.

As he entered the Inn, Prazik pulled down the dark green hood of his cloak. The cloth's deep folds occasionally revealed the polished chain mail beneath, but for the most part, Prazik had the appearance of a very bedgraggled traveler. The only exceptions were the two scabbards the ranger wore. One was visible only for a few inches as it extended from beneath the cloak and the hilt of the longsword it carried poked up right behind Prazik's head. The second was clearly visible, as the cloak was tucked behind it on his left hip to leave that hilt easily accessible as well. His pack was in his left hand, worn and battered, but obviously well cared for.

Prazik cast a glance around the common room as he entered and then made his way to the bar. "A pint of ale," he said quietly, putting a few coins on the wooden counter. "And whatever your meat tonight is. Add in some vegetables and potatoes if you have them." As he finished ordering, Prazik moved towards one of the open tables along the room's far wall. Settling into the seat, he shifted his gear to one side and leaned back in the chair with a sigh. It had been nice visiting his parents and now he was looking forward to simply wandering through the countryside before his trip back to Mabarukh.

[Philistine]

Zak Tedins:

It had been a long day, riding south on the East Coastal Road, and as the sky began to darken Zak decided that he'd better stop for the night at the next inn he came to along the roadside. But the sudden flash of lightning and crash of thunder startled his mount Fluffy, causing her to bolt; Zak was caught unaware, and tumbled to the ground with a cry. He clambered to his feet, cursing, and started after his skittish mount on foot just as the bottom seemingly dropped out of the lowering clouds. The sudden downpour at least dampened Fluffy's enthusiasm for running, allowing him to catch her up, and he took her reins in hand and turned her back north toward the inn they had just passed about a quarter-mile back. Fluffy whined and sidled away from him each time he tried to remount, though, and so finally he led her back to the Inn on foot - ten minutes of slipping and sliding and slogging along the muddy road.

Arriving at the Friendly Farmer Inn, Zak leads Fluffy into the attached stable. He leads her into a stall, removing her tack and hanging it up to dry, then hoists her saddlebags to his shoulder and makes his way to the Inn's front door and steps inside. He's a pathetic sight; mud has splashed up to mid-thigh on his trousers, and similarly covers his arms up to the elbows; he'd failed to get the hood of his cloak up before the storm began in earnest, and his red hair is plastered to his skull. Still, he draws himself up to his full three-foot height, and calls for the innkeep in a high, carrying voice. "Goodman! I require a room, and hot water for bathing, and swiftly!" Looking around the room, he scowls and adds, "I believe I shall sup in my room this evening. And have your stableboy look in on my Fluffy, she'll need to eat as well."

[dariathalon]

Ahmed Nashoor

Ahmed rushes along the road, his cloak wrapped around him tightly to keep out the rain. "I've known this was coming all day long, but I didn't expect it to be this bad. I'm glad I didn't try to stop and make camp earlier. This is not a storm I want to be out in. Thank heavens! A light ahead, nobody would deny a traveller a dry place to sleep on a night like this," he thinks to himself. He runs along the wet road very quickly.

As soon as Ahmed gets inside, he pauses to wring the rain water out of his light-weight beige-colored clothing. The man is a fairly typical looking xeph. He stands just under six feet tall and weighs almost 200 pounds, although he really doesn't look that heavy. He has a thin but well muscled body. His face is round, but has thin features, narrow lips a small tightly pinched nose, but large cat-like yellow-green eyes. His head is covered with a thin layer of short black hair. As he wrings out the clothing, the shining links of a chain shirt are visible beneath. He has a well made bow slung over one shoulder and a rapier hanging from his hip.

When he is done, he moves over and takes a seat at the bar. "Excuse me, I'd like a mug of ale and whatever warm meal you might have tonight. I guess I'll also be needing a room for the night, assuming you still have something available," he says to the barman.

[H Savvy]

As Prazik sweeps into the inn, he is greeted by a fat and jolly man behind a counter just inside the door. He has no pitchfork, but the straw hat and wide grin leave almost no doubt, this is surely the Friendly Farmer from the sign.

"Good day, good eventide, aye, an' welcome, to the Friendly Farmer Inn. I'm Jonas Whitby, I am, and I'm both Friendly Farmer an' Friendly Innkeeper o' this fine establishment." He walks along beside the cloaked man towards the empty bar, chattering away.

"'Tis a fine dandy of a rainstorm, so it is. Seasonal, they are, sir. Being right along the coast s'we are, the springtime brings them heavy rains. Now, I'm no expert," he says, in a tone that seems to convey he rather thinks he is, "but I've bin livin' in these parts since I'as a wee lad, and if y'ask me, this storm 'ere is just beginnin'."

He fills a mug with ale, setting it on the counter without pausing his speech.

"Ye're among the first of our guests, but we're no doubt to see more, likely through the night. T'will be a fine and lively place tonight, the Friendly Farmer. Mayhap even to hear some fine tale and song tonight, I wot. And p'raps more'n tonight. These storms can last for days, so they can. We'll have yer meal out in no time, sir, an' enjoy yer stay at the Friendly Farmer Inn."

He turns to the door behind the small bar, pushes it open and calls back to it. "Side o' beef, Susan! Wit' veg'bals and taters, too, fer the man in the cloak."

He heads back to his post by the door just in time to see a halfling step through, dripping wet and covered in mud. "Goodman is it? Arhahahahar. I like that, I do. Goodman Jonas Whitby at yer service, little master, Friendly Inkeeper of the Friendly Farmer Inn. We've no stableboy, I'm afraid, but don't ye be worryin. I'll send Ginny out t'tend yer animal, an' me girl's got a fine way with the beasties.

As fer a room'n a bath, we've both for ye. Here's tha key t'number Six, it's just 'round t'yer right once ye pass the staircase. We've rooms for the plenty at the moment, but we're expectin' a full house with the storm as it is, an' may need to double up in rooms. At a reduced price, o course. Now, now, no need to decide just yet. As I said we've rooms aplenty for the nonce, I jus' thought I'd broach the subject with ye.

I'll send me boy Edmund up to run ye a bath in half a moment, once he finishes tendin' the fire, mister..." He looks at the halfling expectantly.

[H Savvy]

Susan Whitby, an aging but pretty woman in a simple dress, now stands behind the bar. Her long brown hair is showing streaks of grey, but her face is free of heavy lines and her light blue eyes seem to twinkle happily as she serves the xeph.

"Ale it is, good sir. And we've naught still hot, but plenty a-cookin'. There's beef and chicken, and a fine barely soup, if yer interested. As for a room, we've still those aplenty at the moment. Ye'll have to see Jonas at the counter about that.

Make yerself comfortable, though. The fire's gotten a might low, but Edmund's tending it now, and I'm sure it'll be a happy sight in no time. I hope ye have a happy stay here at the Friendly Farmer."

[Philistine]

Zak:

Zak reaches into his purse and comes up with a gold piece before replying, "I am Zak Tedins, of Bay Abila." He reaches up to lay the gold piece on the counter, and accepts the key to #6 from the innkeeper. "Very well, goodman, I shall proceed to my room. The thought of 'doubling up,' as you say, is not a particularly welcome one - but neither is it terribly surprising, I suppose. Well, if it must be, then it must be."

He turns and strides toward the doorway into the hall, leaving muddy tracks across the floor of the common room. A moment after he passes from sight around the corner, his footsteps pause and he returns to the doorway to add, "Oh, yes - and please instruct your girl to see that Fluffy receives meat to eat this evening. I expect that tomorrow will be another long day, and I will want my mount in good condition." With that, he turns again and disappears from sight.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko "Quicktongue" Arabelle

Annikko sighs happily as she trudges down the open road. It really was a beautiful day for a walk. She had no mount, since she had decided that having no place to go, she might as well take her time getting there. Besides, she was in excellent shape, and despite having walked the entire day, wasn't the slightest bit tired.

Rather short and sleek, Annikko could almost pass as a halfling, but anyone familiar with the small folk would know her as a gnome from her golden pigtails and bright blue eyes. She appeared unarmored, wearing a sensible leather skirt and earth-toned cloak. There was however a crossbow across her shoulder and a morningstar that she had hidden away beneath her belt, rather embarrassed about carrying it.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw the storm clouds coming. IOh no you don't. Don't you dare! She hurried her pace, hoping to find some short of makeshift shelter, or perhaps a barn to sneak in if one was available. When the thunder bellows, she lets out a shriek of surprise and then stares scowling up at the sky. Alright. This... is not even a little funny! A lightning bolt causes her to take off into a run, which is when she sees the lantern light in the distance and picks up her pace, heading toward it. She doesn't even glance at the sign, simply rushing up to the door, standing on her tip-toes to grab the handle and pull it open, before dashing in, pushing the door closed behind her. She takes a moment to stick her tongue out. Hah! What are you gonna do now, huh? You can't get me! Having established her victory, she frowns and tries to wring out the hem of her skirt, before finally looking about at her surroundings. Realizing that she was now in an inn, her heart lifted and she slinks toward the bar, before sighing and standing beside a barstool. It was just typical of humans, never stopping and thinking that a gnome might want to visit. Hello? Can someone give me a boost up? And maybe a big mug of cinnamon tea? I'm soaked!

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

"I'll have some of that chicken, and perhaps a small bowl of the soup as well. Thank you," Ahmed says with a smile. "I'll be back in a moment, once I've spoken with Jonas."

He then turns to the little woman standing next to a bar stool a few seats down. He nods with a little grin. "I think I can help you." He reaches down and lifts her up to the stool. "At least with the stool, the wet state you're in, well, join the club," he says, looking none too dry yet himself. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I must arrange for a room. I have a feeling they'll be going quickly."

(If Annikko responds, he'll listen to what she says and possibly respond before moving off.)

When Ahmed reaches Jonas, he looks the man up and down. "I take it that you are the Friendly Farmer. The sign outside is a good likeness. The woman behind the bar suggested I speak with you about getting a room for the night. It's no night to spend without shelter."

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko beams and grabs Ahmed's hand, boosting herself up to her stool. Thanks! You're a true gentleman. She then casts a glance over her shoulder, and lets out a groan. Wait, that was the counter? I was thinking it was the second floor. She turns to the woman behind the bar and grins. Anyway, now that I can actually look at you, is there any chance that I could get a nice hot mug of tea? My favorite's cinnamon, but I'll take any kind.

She hops from her stool with a thud and moves to the counter, trying to get Jonas' attention. Hello? What sort of rooms do you have?

[H Savvy]

"Roast chicken, aye, an' the soup. Very good, sir. We'll have that for ye in no time t'all."

Hearing a small voice from behind the bar, Susan leans over, and seeing the small woman, smiles widely. The strange man Xeph, I think they're called xephs... from Gol-Mar, even. He's a long way from home, he is helped her up before Susan could even offer. But they seem to have nice manners in Gol-Mar, so they do.

"Hello, little mistress, an' welcome to the Friendly Farmer Inn. I'm afraid I haven't any cinnamon tea, but I'd be more'n happy to add cinnamon ta yer tea, if ye've got yer heart set on it. If it's just the cinammon yer after, tho', I've been told a great many times that my hot cider is a fine treat on a cold night."

Susan smiles at the wet little gnome. "As for yer seat, we've a few special stools in tha back for visitors of shorter stature, if ye like." She leans over the bar and turns to her right, calling out to the boy tending the fire. "Edmund! Fetch me one o' the special stools from the back, will ye?"

The boy, clearly Susan's son, nods and offers a quiet "Yes, mum" before disappearing. When he returns, he has a stool with a small set of steps built into the side that he sets at the bar, offering a small and nervous bow to the gnome before hustling over to his father, receiving new instructions, and disappearing.

---

"Very good, Mr. Tedins." He takes note of the halfling's name on his register. "An' don't ye worry about sharin' yer room. For the nonce, we're stocked with rooms aplenty, an' t'is optional, o' course. I'll send Edmund over with yer bath right sharp. Enjoy yer stay, Mr. Tedins."

No sooner had the halfling left than another customer stepped up to the counter. Busy busy today, Jonas. Storm's are good business, so they are. Ahh, tha stormy spring weather, I love ye, I do.

"Aye, the Friendly Farmer an' the Friendly Inkeeper I am, these days." He grins hugely, looking just like the caricature on his sign. "Thass Susan, my wife behind the bar. An' intelligent as she is beuatiful, she is, for I am exactly the man ye need to see about a room. We've shelter a-plenty for ye, but as ye can see, business is fast increasin' in this dismal weather. If'n we run outta rooms, we may ask if ye'd wish t'share. At a reduced price, o' course.

For now, tho, I'll put ye in Number Ten, sir, soon as I take down yer name.


And you, little mistress? I assume ye'll be wantin' a room with small furniture, aye? Ye're in luck, ye are, for I've but one room left designed for littler folk. Number Seven, it is, an a fine little room it is. Simply follow the wet footsteps that yon halfling left, be'ind the stairs and to tha right."

Edmund comes from the bar to the counter, and his father wastes no time in sending him on another errand. "Edmund, me boy. Run a hot bath for Mr. Tedins in Number Six. An' if ye see yer sister, tell 'er to tend to tha stable! There's mounts in need of feed an' mayhaps a rubdown. Busy night, tonight!"

[Adjudicator]

Prazik Wynn

As Prazik waited for the meal to arrive, he watched the steady stream of customers coming through the Inn's door. He wouldn't have guessed there were so many people on the road, but the Friendly Farmer seemed well placed to catch traffic from multiple routes. The appearance of one of the Xeph here in Corridan was a surprise to the bounty hunter. He hadn't expected to see any more of the Gol-Marran race upon his return. It gave him an eerie sense of familiarity, to see the desert-born features here after he had spent so many years among them.

The halfling and gnome followed, along with other travelers and, as Prazik listened to Master Whitby reply, he realized that he needed to ensure he had a room as well. Watching for the innkeeper to turn his way, Prazik indicated that he'd like a word and, when Whitby finally approached, voiced his desire for a room and his willingness to share.

[H Savvy]

Jonas trundles his massive girth over to the table where the man in the cloak is waiting. Whew, no time to rest tonight!

"Ayuh, sir? What can I be doin for ye?"

"Ohoho! Been list'nin mighty fine, I wot. A room it is, then, sir. I'll need to be takin' yer name, o course, but when ye've finished yer meal, no hurry now! I'll hold the room for ye, take yer time an' eat yer fill o' my wife's tasty vittles, but when ye've finished, aye, then ye can come to the counter an' we'll get ye settled with a room. Number 12, I think."

The portly inkeeper shuffles back to his post by the door, and just in time, for the door opens once more, timed just as a stroke of lightning flashes, lighting the pair at the entrance from behind.

KRACK-OOOOM

Inside, the pleasant atmosphere of the Inn, and the warmth of the fire (now roaring contentedly in the massive hearth) had chased away much of the storm's fury, but it is clear that outside, the storm rages harder than ever. The two figures step in and close the door, and the sound of the rain returns to the soft undertone of white noise.

The visitors are an old man and young boy, too young to be his son, but perhaps his grandson, instead. The old man is tall, and broad of shoulder, and it seems he was once a strong man, though many years ago, when he was still in his prime. His hair is white, and shaved close to his head, almost in the style of a monk, and under his dark blue traveller's cloak he is wearing a rusty brown robe. He has a short, neatly trimmed white beard and a pair of spectacles perched on his rather large, beakish nose.

The boy looks to be about fifteen or sixteen, and is thin and short. His hair is dark brown, almost black, and he is pulling the pair's bags and trunks, a fair pile of luggage.

The man exchanges words with the fat inkeeper, and bits of his loud voice carry over, "so they do... hahahahar, indeed, indeed... aye, a right whopper of a storm, sir... Number Eleven it is, Mr. Salandrian"

The boy struggles to carry all the bags up the stairs, and finding it too difficult, leaves half of the luggage at the foot and carries what he can manage. The old man heads towards the fire, and having settled himself into one of the overstuffed, if somewhat threadbare, armchairs directly facing the hearth, passes his hand over his soaked robes, drying them instantly.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Why I'll be thankin' ye kindly me good bigman. Garl Glittergold must've been smilin' down on my poor soaked shoulders to put The Friendly Farmer in me path. Annikko giggles after doing her best to imitate Jonas' gregarious manner of speaking, and winks at him before turning back to the bar.

Hot cider you say? Well, my mom always said that it's bad luck to refuse an offer of hot cider. Yes please! The little gnome thanks Susan when she receives her cider, but soon abandons the bar to sit near the fire, letting herself sink blissfully into a cushy old love seat made for humans as she lets the heat drive the chill from her body.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate the room." He spells out his name for Jonas to write down. "I prefer my own room, but if you have trouble finding space for others to set down for the night, I'd share willingly. Don't want to force anyone out into the rain."

Once he's taken care of that, he moves over to the bar again to await his food and drink. He sits silently, watching the other people come in out of the rain and arrange for rooms.

[H Savvy]

Faint, delicious smells begin to waft from the Inn's small kitchen. Then the door opens, and Susan exits bearing a large platter, and the smells fill the common room.

She moves about the room, dropping off people's orders. She lays a large plate of succulent beef in front of Prazik Wynn, accompanied by surprisingly fresh and well-cooked vegetables and potatoes, a genuine home-cooked meal, and surprisingly good fare for Inn-food. "Will there be anything else ye need, sir?"

In front of the xeph, she lays a deep bowl of thick, steaming barley soup, rich with chopped vegetables, and a large piece of bread. It appears to be fresh-baked, and still warm. The smells are full and enticing, and the barley soup seems lightly herbed. "Here ye be, sir, an' yer roast chicken will be ready quite shortly. Might ye be wantin' something to drink as well, sir?"

She moves in front of the fire, laying a human-sized steaming mug of hot mulled cider on the small end table next to Annikko's overstuffed armchair. The spicy smell encompasses more than cinnamon, but its presence in the drink is readily apparent. "Here's your cider, little mistress, an' I do hope ye enjoy it." The Innkeeper's wife goes into a slight country curtsey. "Is there anythin' else I can fetch for ye, ma'am? Or you sir?" she asks, turning to the old man in one of the other armchair on the hearth.

His voice, as he answers, is deep and rough, but surprisingly soft and pleasant, the voice of an old country storyteller, perhaps, or a retired diplomat. "Not just at the moment, my dear lady. Perhaps once my young companion joins me, we shall have a bit of something. For now, though, I am content to simply sit by the fire, and smoke my pipe" he glances is inquisitively at the barmistress, "if I may."

Susan smiles, offers him a quiet "As ye will, sir," and moves back towards the bar. As she does, an older halfling so enormously fat as to be nearly spherical in the middle enters the room followed by two younger halflings, one fairly fat, like the man who is no doubt his father, the other slim, wiry, and surprisingly tall for a halfling. The older halfling is dressed in a fine suit, and his two sons, for the family resemblence is undeniable, are dressed more modestly.

"Mmm... we've smelled your delicious cooking, Miss Susan, and we just had to come out of room for a meal. We'll be over at our regular table when you've got a moment, ma'am." The three of them head to a small table towards the edge of the room, clearly designed for the small of stature.

[Adjudicator]

Prazik Wynn

Prazik inhaled the steam from his meal deeply and then nodded gratefully to Mistress Whitby. "No, thank you, ma'am. This looks wonderful and I'll be happy to eat for a bit. If I could just make sure my pint stays full, though you should cut me off after three. I need to be on the road again in the morning."

And with that, the ranger set his sights on the fabulous meal before him. He'd never have guessed it, but Prazik thought he missed vegetables most of all. In the desert, fresh vegetables were incredibly expensive and a young bounty hunter's salary was definitely not up to supporting them as regular fare for dinner. He smiled happily as he munched through the plate, who would have guessed how such a simple thing could make such a wonderful evening.

As he ate, Prazik looked around the room. His first pint had taken enough of the travel edge off his weariness to make him interested in the room's occupants. The grandfather and the young boy especially held his interest, as they seemed an odd pair to be out so late.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko beams up at Susan as she is served. Thank you very much. Would it be too much trouble to ask for some soup from the beef broth? Bread on the side too... If you can't do that, I'll just have bread and gravy and ooh, some peas and carrots too. Well, anythings fine really, I don't want to be too much trouble!

She takes a big sip of apple cider and replaces it on the end table, before her gaze shifts curiously to the old man. She scoots to the edge of her armchair and peers at him. Hello there. I'm Annikko Arabelle, cleric of Garl Glittergold. Some of my friends call me Quicktongue, but humans like to call me Ann or even Annie. I don't know why but that's fine too. How about you? You like you have a story to tell... and I'm never wrong either!

[H Savvy]

The old man in the rust-colored robes turns and regards the precocious little gnome, dark blue eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "A story? My dear Miss Arabelle, if I had only one story to tell, I'd be a poor man indeed. We all have stories, let's not forget, and even the simplest of us have several worth telling."

He breaks into a grin. "You are, however, correct in your insights. As usual, it would seem, miss. Tales were once my business, for long, long ago, I was once a humble bard. Many are the tales I could tell, and you seem an enthusiastic listener. Later this evening, perhaps, I will spin a yarn or two, after my young friend and I have had some of Mrs. Whitby's delicious-smelling fare."

He takes a long pull from his pipe, an ornately carved and finely-crafted piece. The bowl seems to be wrought silver, and the stem is ivory scrimshaw. He blows a large smoke ring, and then another, before sinking back into the armchair.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Well yeah, says Annikko as if exasperated by the obviousness of the old man's statement. But there's a difference between having a story and wanting to tell it. Anyway, I'm going to hold you to that. I'm a scholar, actually, so if I didn't follow up on things like this, it would be as though I was neglecting my duty. She extends a tiny hand to the old man. So, you want to introduce yourself?

[H Savvy]

The old man grins at the curious little gnome. "My, but you are..." he takes a puff from his pipe, "persistent, aren't you my dear?" As he says 'persistent', the smoke he exhales forms itself into the shape of the word. "My name," he says, "is Idogbe. These days, most know me simply as "Old Idogbe", and I am a scholar, like you, miss. I've been on the road since before I was born, carried down one path or another in my mother's womb by the wanderlust in her step, and I've seen and heard a great many things in my many years. Forgotten more tales than most learn, lived through more tales than most tell, for in my barding days I was something of an adventurer, as you most certainly seem to have surmised.

These days, though, I am strictly an academic. A scholar certainly, scholar eternally, I should say, but mostly a teacher, instructing and educating my young companion in the ways of the universe.

Ahh.. but you've got me telling you a story already, haven't you miss... miss Arabelle, was it? It is a pleasure to meet you. Old Idogbe Salandrian, at your service." The man extends a large, calloused hand, many times the size of the small gnome's, and clasps her hand in his warmly. He grins, the flash of a single gold tooth shining out from just beyond the edge of his smile.

Taking another puff from his pipe, he winks at the young gnome and blows out a breath of smoke. No ring this time, the smoke takes the shape of a horse and gallops towards the ceiling, where it dissipates.

[Philistine]

Zak

Meanwhile, up in Room #6...

A quick dip in the tub is enough for Zak to get the worst of the mud and muck off his person. His clothing is a different matter, however, and he sets to scrubbing with grim intensity, grumbling all the while about the storm and the way Fluffy threw him when she bolted. Finally satisfied, he wrings out his garments and redons them. Just as well I don't have to worry about passing inspection anymore, he thinks as he gives himself a quick once-over in the mirror. Hmm. I suppose I should go back down to the common room, try to find a place near the fire where I can dry out a bit more. He stuffs his armor into his saddlebag - Not likely I'll need that tonight!, he thinks - then exits the room, drawing the door closed behind him and turning the key in the latch.

Moments later, he emerges from the hallway again. He's still damp and disheveled, but greatly improved from his earlier appearance as he addresses the innkeeper, somewhat stiffly. "Goodman Whitby, I must apologize for my manner earlier. In my defense, I can only plead my discomfiture at having been caught out in that abominable storm."

He shakes his head, then continues, "Upon consideration, I believe I would prefer to take my supper here in the commons. I'd like a portion of," he pauses, sniffing the air, "Roast chicken, is it? Very good. And a pint of ale, if you please."

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed accepts the bowl of soup. "Thank you, this should do nicely. And I still have my ale to drink, but I'll let you know if I need more." He picks up his spoon, blows on it for a moment and then puts its contents into his mouth. His shoulders relax as he feels the hot liquid run down his throat, warming him from the inside. "Just the perfect meal for a night like this," he reports.

As he eats, he continues to pay attention to the room around him. The conversation between the gnome and the older gentleman catches his ear. He shifts a little in his seat so that he can watch what transpires through occaisional glances from the corner of his eye and listens with some interest.

[borninbones]

"The heavens appear to have opened up." Jaron staggered through the rain. He pulled his cloak around him and looked for some kind of shelter. The elder bard was begrudgingly setting up camp under a fir tree before he noticed the light of the inn. After packing up what little he had, he made his way to the inn.

"Evenin. It seems to have gotten a bit moist outside and I thought that a dry bard plays better then a wet one. So I was hoping that you aren't full up and may have a room for me. I normally ask to pay with entertainment but tonight, I would like to pay with money and dry off by the fire with a full stomach. Whatever you have would be good." Jaron pushes back his cloak and runs his hand through his graying hair and looks about the inn. After having recieved and paid for his food, he will either join the bard spinning the web of fact or fiction or sit close enough to overhear.

[H Savvy]

At Zak's stuffy but sincere-seeming apology, the fat Inkeeper bursts into uproarious laughter. As it slakes off, he tries to speak, "Ahaha... hahahar.. haha... ha... Ohh, lad, I'm sorry, but hahahar, ye- ye've got no need t'plead anythin' or apologize fer squat. Hahahar, oh, but aye, ye're a right gentleman, sir, so ye are, and we'll get ye a nice large portion o' me wife's roast chicken in ye, an' see if it don't ease yer 'discomfiture'. Ahahahahahar..."

He makes his way over to his wife and has a few words with her before turning back towards the halfling, winking gregariously, and returning to the counter. She nods and heads into the back room.

Shortly thereafter, the door opens once again, briefly allowing the noise and fury of the storm to be known again before being quieted by the door again. Standing in the entrance is a disheveled older man.

"Good day to ye sir, good travels, an welcome to the Friendly Farmer Inn. My name is Jonas Whitby, an' I'm the owner, propri'tor, an caretaker of this fine establishment. Tell ye truth, sir, I was summat hopin' we might see the likes of a bard tonight, so I was. Night like this, ye ken, folk need some right proper entertainment to truly forget th'trials of the road, so they do.

We've rooms available still, sir, don't ye set to worryin, an' me wife over there," he points at the empty bar, "or well, she's in tha back, ye ken, cookin' up these folks orders. She'll be glad to take yer order, sir, as soon as I've taken yer name.

Once ye've warmed yerself, an' dried yerself, an' filled yerself too, aye, then ye can play and sing and speak and whatever t'is ye do. Then ye can come back here, an' we'll see what yer performance is worth, eh? Night's right for entertainment, so it is, an' if entertainment is yer normal way o' payin, yer performance'll be a fine one, I wot."

[Philistine]

Zak:

Zak forces a tight-lipped smile onto his face as the Innkeeper laughs at him, then nods his thanks to the rotund man and moves toward the fire. Tallfolk! Half of them think they can bully me; the other half think I'm either some sort of figure of fun, or a child to be coddled. But at least I know how to deal with the bullies, he thinks.

[Kyroswolf]

Gliff Addel

"The Eastern Coastal Road. Just travel it. Your sure to find a caravan that needs some security. Or perhaps some other well to do traveler. Won't take you long I'm sure." If anyone could hear him over the torrential downpour going on around him, this is what you would hear coming from the 3'7" gnome as he travels north up the highway. As he travels he pulls a lightly obscured object from within his cloak, which he presses to his lips briefly before returning it to its home pocket. So intent on his nips he is that he almost walks past the inn.

Gliff quickly shuts the door as he enters. He seems to sway in place as he takes in his surroundings. A smile appears on his lips as he pulls back the hood of his traveling cloak. The fine weave of a chain shirt is visible through his outer clothing, and a oilskin scarab shows the pommel of a well made rapier. Noticing the stepped stool at the bar, he climbs aboard. "Rum, if you please. No glass, leave the bottle." He removes his flask from his cloak one more time and sets it on the bar. As he waits for his bottle he turns to the Innkeeper. "I suppose I need to pay for a room, though if my habits continue, I believe I'll find myself awakening here at the bar. However you would prefer good sir. You may register me under Gliff Adell."

[borninbones]

"It is an honor and a privilege to meet your kith and kin. At your request, I will be more then please to oblige with a tale or two." Jaron will turn to Jonas's wife, "I will start with a bit of ale." After recieving the ale, Jaron will turn to the stage and test his violin. After guaging the audience as one that needs a little livening up, he starts off soft, not to intrude on the conversations but pulling the attention of those who have nothing else to pay attention to. Just as he is reaching the end of the soft song he will burst into a lively performce (think irish drinking song +2).

perform
[roll0]

[Philistine]

Zak:

While the bard's performance isn't bad, Zak is still too damp and uncomfortable to appreciate it. He remains near the fire, paying little attention to what goes on in the room behind him.

[H Savvy]

Susan Whitby smiles at the swashbuckling gnome. "Welcome to tha Friendly Farmer Inn, Mr. Addel. Glad we'll be to put ye up in a room for tha night."

"Aye, an so we shall, sir," Jonas cuts in, "don't ye doubt. I'm afeared we've no more rooms ta fit yer size, though, an I beg yer pardon. We've only three rooms that're sized fer the littler folk'n all're taken f'the nonce. Ye're more'n welcome ta take a big room if it does ya, an we've a bed that's more yer size we could put in one, but tha chairs an whatnot, they'd be rather big, I wot. If ye'd prefer furn'ture what's sized ta yer perportiuns, ye'll havta work out summat in the way of sharin. Mr. Tedins, Miss Arabelle, and Mr. Depappas an 'is sons," Jonas points to each in turn "'ave the wee rooms, if that's yer fancy."

"As for tha rum, good master," Susan adds, a little embarrassedly, "well, when a man asks for a bottle to his lonesome, I'm afeared I'll have to ask ye to see tha color of yer coin, sir. Tha bottle's three gold, if it please ya."

After the bard's performance, the Innkeeper goes to the small stage of the common room, little more than a few planks raised just off the ground along the outer wall, facing the large fireplace. "Not a bad show, me good man, but ye're still clearly travel-weary an' soaked t'boot, so ye are. As ye said, a dry bard plays bett'r. Whyn't ye set yerself by the fire an' have yerself some o' me wife's cookin' to go wi' that ale. Then we'll see wha' kinda performance ye're really cap'ble of, I wot.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed watches the new gnome stagger in and sit down not far from him. Does he have no shame? A little drink is fine, but planning to pass out in the common room... Isn't that a little much? Oh well, not my business, I suppose.

He turns back and listens to the bard play. Not the best I've heard, but still not bad. I was beginning to wonder if tonight would be a bust on entertainment, guess not.

[Kyroswolf]

Gliff Addel

At the request for his money, Gliff takes a sip from his flask. Upon finding it empty, he holds it perfectly upside down over his mouth, trying to garner every drop he can from gravity. "Well I guess there is no helping it. I have the money don't worry, and I won't be finishing this alone tonight." He half turns to the room, "I fully intend to share with the rest of those present." Gliff slips his hand into his cloak and takes out a hand full of coins. "Lets see, 10 coppers makes a silver and 10 silvers makes a gold piece, so if I pay in coppers then I need 300 pieces of copper. Don't worry man I am but pulling your leg. Here this should cover the bottle and a room. If it is too much then go buy yourself something nice next time your in town." He slides 5 golden discs toward the nice lady. Once he has his bottle he uses it to fill his flask then turns to the assemblage. "As I said I have no intention of finishing this by my lonesome the stormy eve. Would anyone care to join me?", as he takes his first sip straight from the bottle.

[H Savvy]

"I beg f'yer pardon, good sir, I have misjudged ye." Susan blushes. "I meant ye no offense, ye ken. We have had... problems from folk wi' similar requests. As fer a room, sir, it's but 5 silver a night. If ye insist on payin' such a sum t' us, I insist on fixin' ye a fine meal as part of it. What'll ye have?"

A voice from behind the gnome says tentatively, "If you want to share.. uh... could I join you?" The voice comes from a young, short boy with dark brown hair, the lad who accompanied the old man, now finished with his task of hauling the pair's luggage.

"You may not, Jonathan."

The boy jumps at the sound of the old man's voice and looks chagrined. Idogbe rises from his chair, still puffing on his ornate pipe, and walks over to the gnome and his young charge.

"I do not mean to ruin your party, my revelrous little friend, but young Jonathan here is under my charge, and I would keep him from hard drink just yet. As for me, I find that hard drink clouds my mind too greatly, but I should be quite pleased if you would join us in our conversation and merrymaking this evening.

Stormy weather is the finest to make joyous in, and I have already promised tales to Miss Arabelle there. It is not meet to share company with a man and have him drink alone, though. Mrs. Whitby, a bottle of fine wine, if you please. I believe we shall make an evening of this after all." He looks to young Jonathan, the poor boy's face downcast and sullen. "Of this, Jonathan, you may partake."

The boy smiles weakly. "Thank you, Master Idogbe."

[borninbones]

Jaron steps from the stage still shaking water off of himself. I know where I went wrong. The innkeeper is right, wet strings means slipped notes. He plops down in front of the fire and works on the drink given to him by the innkeeper's wife. Jaron does his best to listen in to the various tales brought by the other adventurers and travellers.

[Kyroswolf]

Gliff Addel

"Ah my good boy, I would gladly share, but I cannot go against the wishes of your guardian. Yes sir, I shall join you. If you insist ma'lady, then I shall have some of the wonderful smelling sustenance you have prepared. I enjoy surprises, so feel free to prepare whatever you believe suites my fancy." *sip* Gliff descends from the stepped stool and joins the remainder at the fire. "Ah, the warmth of flame. Twas truly a great day when our ancestors learned to control such a wondrous thing." *sip* "Oh, where are my manners. I said I was sharing and so I shall." *sip* Gliff sets the bottle upon a nearby table for any to claim. "Gliff Addel at your shervice. Oh shluring a bit I am. I shall have to shlow down."

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Seeing many of the other patron's gathering by the fire, Ahmed finishes his meal and heads over to join them. He takes a seat on the edge of one of the long benches nearby.

[Adjudicator]

Prazik Wynn

As the rest of the patrons began to gravitate towards the fire, Prazik finished off the last of his meal and lifted his mug. Taking a sip, he watched the group in the center of the room over the lip of the tankard. It had been a long time since he had been around friendly company at night. Usually, if he had a companion at his fire when on a job, it was the thief he had been sent to retrieve.

Deciding that he might as well make the most of it while he could, the ranger stood quickly and headed over to join the others around the fire. Leaning on the wall a couple of feet away from the fireplace, Prazik nodded to the others and continued to sip from his mug. A half-buried memory reminded him to put a slight smile on his face so that he wouldn't seem churlish or dour. Hopefully, he could get used to living with other people again.

[Philistine]

Zak:

After a fairly short time standing near the fire, Zak decides he's dry enough - even with the rain cooling things off, the weather this far south is still a bit warmer than he was used to in Wyalla. He moves to the nearest unoccupied table and clambers up onto a seat on the far side, facing toward the fireplace.

[borninbones]

After having sat at the fire for some time, Jaron will reach into the small case and pull out an ornate violin. After taking a moment to check the strings, he will pull back on the bow and play a soft tune. (avoiding what happened last time I am going to chicken out and take a 10 which still gives me a 22 perform).

[H Savvy]

The kitchen door flies open, revealing the back of Mrs. Whitby as she bustles backwards into the common room, carrying an enormous platter of dishes in one hand and a large platter of drinks in the other. "How kind of ye, good masters, to gather in one place. Makes the task of bringin' ye yer orders so much simpler," she gibes, smiling heartily and setting the trays down on the one of the empty tables near the crowd by the fire. Picking up dishes and drinks in both hands, she quickly empties the trays, serving the various patrons their various orders with a startlingly quick efficiency. It is rather clear Susan Whitby has been at this for a long time.

She lays a large steaming bowl of piping hot beef soup, rich with vegetables, in front of Annikko with one hand, sweeping up Prazik's empty mug of ale with the other, and replacing it with a full one as she reaches for yet another dish. With her graceful movement, it's very nearly a dance but for the businesslike manner with which she does it.

Clink. Clink. There was ale now in front of Jaron and Zak. A gentle clack-clack later and there followed a half a roast chicken each in front of Zak and Ahmed, delicious golden smells rising with the steam. The innkeeper's wife sets a very large plate of bread and beef and mushrooms fried in butter and herbs in front of Gliff with a hearty wink before turning back to the huge platters on the empty table. She lays a bottle of dark red wine and two glasses next to the old man before laying a large tray of fresh fruits and cheeses and small, round loafs of bread on the low table in front of the fire. "An' a little something for ye all to share, if it please ye. A fine time and a merry evenin' to ye all, my honored guests."

Between the sudden sight and sounds and smells of the now-appeared meal and the pleasantly soft but lively bit of music the bard strummed out, the inn, quaint and charming enough though it had seemed earlier, now seems a fine place indeed, and a pleasant surprise to find such a place in this no-where barony of Pillslydale.

"Ahh," sighs Old Idogbe, sipping the dark wine with his pipe in one hand, "I do believe if it weren't for the sudden tempest, we should have passed this place right by. In that light, the rains were a fortunate occurance indeed." He chuckles, a low, rough sound, and puffs contentedly on his pipe.

[Philistine]

Zak

Hungry as he is, Zak still eats delicately, cutting tiny bites off the chicken and lifting them to his mouth one at a time. His eyes widen in pleased surprise at the first bite - it's better than he'd really expected to find at a little roadside stop in the middle of nowhere - and a few minutes later he waves the innkeeper's wife over to collect his empty plate before getting up to fetch a piece of fruit from the table in front of the fire.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Annikko lets out a little shriek when the soup is placed in front of her. Oh nooo! Garl prohibits the slaugther of animals for food! I'll be excommunicated! What have you doooone? She gives Mrs. Whitby a sidelong glance before giggling. Just kidding. We both know this is exactly what I ordered. Thank you Ma'am! She spoons a bowl of her soup and blows on it until it cools and then sucks her spoon dry. Mmm, good!

[Kyroswolf]

Gliff

As his food is placed before him, Gliff goes to it with a gusto. Without making a pig of himself (barely), he quickly devours the food placed before him. Without speaking he periodically offers the rum bottle to those gathered with him, before sipping from it. As he completes his meal he leans back in his chair, "Ma'lady, truly you are worthy to serve kings, queen, and the brats they call princesses and princes. Were such fair placed before me regularly I would surely grow roots in this chair. Sir Bard, take a break from you playing and join us. Your playing is wondrous, but even the artist should eat."

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed eats the chicken slowly, savoring each bite before swallowing. Despite picking up and eating the chicken in his bare hands, he still somehow manages to appear somewhat refined as he eats. "Would one of you all mind handing me a bit of bread, please?" he asks.

Imagine that, the drunk could take root in a bar. he thinks with an eyeroll. Still, that doesn't stop him from agreeing with Gliff, "Yes, the hospitality here almost has me hoping that the storm will keep up for a day or two longer, giving me reason to stay on," he adds.

[H Savvy]

Hearing Annikko's words, the innkeeper's wife first blushes terribly, then the color drains out of her face completely, as she tries to splutter an explanation. Before she can, the prankish little gnome completes her jest, and Susan bursts out laughing. "Oh, ye are a tricksy little one, ma'am. Ye near stopped my heart for a moment!" She laughs again, and it is a lovely, merry sound. Smiling widely, she graciously accepts Gliff's compliments with another blush and a short, single laugh. "Ye are too kind, sir. I'm not fit t'serve no royals, no, but I thank my dear mum, so I do, for she's the kindly mistress who taught me to cook."

From his seat by the counter at the door, Jonas pipes up loudly, patting his large and rotund belly. "I thank yer mum, too, love!"

Old Idogbe stands, turning to face the gathered patrons, back to the large fire. "So," he drawls, puffing once more on his large and ornate pipe, "you would hear a tale. You are in luck, my friends, for I know a great many, a great many of which I have witnessed with my own eyes, for I was once a tale-collector for many years. The only trouble is in choosing an appropriate yarn. Have you folk any requests or particular tastes? Adventure, romance, horror, mystery, comedy. Tales of how great Kings came to be, or came to an end. Tales of the vasty underworld that stretches the breadth of both continents. Tales of the wild and exotic islanders. Mythology, folklore, accurate histories... I am a tale-spinner; choose if you will."

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko sips her cider and leans back in her chair, smiling at the old man. Romance please. She glances at the other patrons and grins sheepishly. Sorry. It's kind of an obsession of mine. Teehee.

[borninbones]

Having finished his song by this point, Jaron will head back over to the fire. That was a bit playing it safe. He thought to himself after having played a song that was very well practiced. Hearing the bard offer a selection tales, "It would be a pleasure to hear a tale from any fellow bard, I would not mind a romance myself."

[Philistine]

Zak

"Tell what tale you will, master bard," Zak calls out from the table where he sits, still nursing the mug of ale which arrived with his dinner.

[Kyroswolf]

Gliff

Taking another sip from his rum bottle, after again trying to offer it to those around, "Apparently a romance is the request of the night. Far be it from me to offer any resistance here. A romance kind sir. And be snappy about it." He ends his words with a lopsided grin, letting all know he will not be a surly drunk this evening.

[H Savvy]

"Romance, you say?" croakes old Idogbe. "Hmm... I haven't had someone request one of those in a long, long, long many years... folk these days are all asking for adventure and blood and death. However, I think I have just the one..." From under his rust-colored robes he brings an ancient-looking but exquisitely preserved mandolin, far too large to have been concealed beneath his garment. He begins to strum a slow and mournful waltz as he begins the recitation of his tale in a rough, almost croaking voice, bitterly sad but eerily beautiful.

"Of all the tales that I've been told
there is a one that's ages old
A tale of love and tragedy
The sad, sad tale of Avonlee

Long before the Old Ones fell
a land was formed from ocean's swell
'Neath virgin skies, from virgin seas
rose the verdant prize called Avonlee

Her air was clear, her waters fresh
her beaches jewelled for miles stretched
Her people, stern and proud and brave
were masters of both boat and wave

They were a nation put to sea
by those ancient gods of pre-history
And the ancient gods looked down and smiled
For they did love that little isle

There was a woman of beauty rare
with sapphire eyes and golden hair
A diamond smile and ruby lips
the princess of the land of ships

And all desired that maiden's hand
not just for wealth or pow'r or land
For between her smile and thrilling stare
the girl was more than passing fair

Fair indeed was Coraline
men sought to have her for their queen
Suitors from each foreign nation
tried to woo by wealth and station

Tried to win her by shows of power
save one, who tried but verse and flowers
Who sent his gifts in secrecy
a poor lad from the scullery

The poor boy knew he had no chance,
but his heart had melted with one glance.
He knew at least he had to try
lest unfulfilled his heart should die.

Yet fate holds sometimes some surprise
as it weaves the threads of human lives
And he won the heart of Coraline:
the servant and the future queen

Oh! the scandal, had any known
had any sign of their tryst shown
They kept their love from prying eyes
with careful plans and cunning lies

But Coraline, his heart she broke
for love is meant for common folk
And noble blood flowed in her veins
and duty urged her to that pain

She consented to be wed
to a suitor, royal-bred
Who seemed, of all, most kind and fair
the brash young prince of a distant where

Yet when she reached his kingdom's shore,
his fair, kind manner was no more
And for many days she sorely wept
though her royal duty still she kept

But being little more than slave
eventually her willpow'r gave
And fled she back to Avonlee
to beg forgiveness on benden knee

Though his sad heart by her was harmed
he welcomed her with open arms
But both knew that since she had fled
the two of them would lose their heads

So together climbed the lands great spire
the volcano that would be their pyre
And hand in hand stood at the top
and cheek to cheek, their bodies dropped

Not even the mountain's liquid fire
could match the heat of their desire
And the gods were touched by their devotion
sealed their tomb beneath the ocean

The waves, they grew; the waves, they crashed
and onto Avonlee, they smashed
The surf devoured her bejewelled shores
and Avonlee was soon no more.

They say that deep beneath the sea
there's still a land of Avonlee.
A cold and dead and empty land
Preserved forever in ocean sand.

And so the land rests with the Coral
and from this tale take you this moral"

here the slow threnody strummed by the mandolin stops, and he speaks the last lines in a low, slow voice.

"That love is meant for common folk
but every man is common."

[borninbones]

As if dangling on the end of each word, like a begger watching a gold coin spin, Jaron finally blinks. "Wow. Tales I have told. Songs I have sung. Nothing reaches deepest in the hearts then the ones about love and loss. Such a tragedy and yet to have found such love in the first, such a blessing." He brushes a patch of silver out of his face. His face changes slightly from admiration to that of curiosity. "Each tale has truth and lie within. 'And so the land rests with the Coral.' Where would this coral be?"

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Annikko is sniffling. Why... why can't the world just learn to let lovers be? She bursts into tears. Sorry... that was beautiful. Of course, she had certainly heard better bards than the old man, but the message was one that went straight to her heart, and she couldn't help but get teary-eyed at a tale of tragic romance.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed looks over to the gnome, considering for a moment putting a hand on her shoulder to try to console her. Nah, some women are like that. Crying at the drop of a hat. She'll be fine.

He looks back to the bard, trying to ignore the gnome's sniffling. "I'd be interested in hearing more about this place too, if there's anymore you know. A land preserved under the sea," he pauses for a moment, further contemplating the idea. "I'm not really a sailor, but I'd be interested in seeing such a thing. Though I guess if this rain doesn't stop, we'll be in an inn preserved under the sea."

[H Savvy]

The old bard seems surprised by the interest his tale generated. "I never delved too deeply into the story of this particular tale, for the world is filled with mysteries, and to chase each down would take a thousand thousand long and full lifetimes. It had always been my understanding that the Coral of the final line is meant to reflect the name of Coraline, the heroine of the piece. That she is named and her lover is not seems significant, but she is named as royal and he common, so perhaps it is coincidence. Whatever the case, I haven't any certain idea where such a land may reside, if it does at all, but if I were to guess, I would think it somewhere near the isles of Divheya. The coral of those tropic waters are quite famous, and if any island of Old were to have been swallowed by the sea, there seems a likely place. In truth, it is not a thing I have set great importance in finding... I have enough unfulfilled quest in my life as it is..."

He drifts off, looking thoughtful. He replaces his magnificent instrument under the concealment of his robes, and it is clear from the lack of a large mandolin-shaped bulge under them that there is some magic at work there.

[Kyroswolf]

Gliff

Gliff offers his somewhat dried handkerchief to his fellow gnome. His rum seems all but forgotten, the bottle about half full still. "Sir, I do say that is a quite interesting tale. Islse of Divheya you say? Would anyone happen to know how far that is? I'm growing rather board of guarding caravans, and a nice whirlwind trip may be just what I need."

[borninbones]

"Even if we were to not find this island that you speak of; to explore the reefs of Divheya would be interesting story."

[H Savvy]

"Oh, indeed. There are great adventures to be found everywhere, if only you know how to look. In the matter of Divehya and its reefs, I can tell you from personal experience that they are breathtaking.

As for distance, it's about 1600 Arcs from here, though it'll certainly be a longer voyage, unless you have a boat moored and waiting just at the shore, here. I'd say the best way to get to Divehya would be to charter a ship from Tansier, the largest port between here and Bay Abilon, just at the south edge of Wyalla, at the mouth of the Rhesh. It's about 300 arcs to the north, no more than five days' walk. You should be able to pick up a boat to Divehya from there, and then it's a bit more than a week's sailing, depending on the ship you sail with.

If you are truly interested in making the journey, my young ward and I were headed to Tansier, we would be happy to accompany you that far. However, it's there we would part ways. We are something of pilgrims, you might say, and it has been a long enough pilgrimage already, but that is perhaps a story for another time."

((ooc: Arcs are the standard unit of measure for distance in Corridan, and are about 1/3 of a mile, the archaic unit of measure of the Old Ones (equiv. to our mile). In Gol-Mar, they measure by the Rhal. 3 Arcs = 2 Rhalla = 1 Mile))

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

"It might be an interesting journey. I'm always up for a trip to a new place, and I have nowhere better to be at the moment. What, might I ask, is so interesting in Tansier that you would make a pilgimage there? So many people root themselves down in one place, those places that can draw people from afar usually have something of great interest."

[H Savvy]

"It is not the city of Tansier that draws me further yet on, for though it has much to offer, it is rather a mundane city. It is nothing more than what I have already told you: the largest port between here and Bay Abilon, and a place in which travel to the rest of the world may be found. If we journeyed to Tansier together, our paths would part for no reason other than that we seek different destinations."

The old man eyes the ranger long and hard for a moment, seeming for the first time anything other than a charming and learned old storyteller. It is suddenly clear that he must have done more than travel and sing during his years on the road, and that perhaps those days are not entirely behind him. Then his visage softens and he smiles.

"I tell you this now in all earnestness. There are many such 'places of interest' in the world, and though they may contain great treasure, material, spiritual, or otherwise, beware them. Beware them all. Such places are often as full of dangers as wonders, but more than that, for I see that you are a man who does not flinch at danger. Beware their siren song, for they will catch their hooks in your heart and mind and draw you to them. Many men hear the song, and more men crash on their rocks than reach their shores..." as he trails off, he looks quite tired, and quite old.

"I tell you these things out of personal experience, my young friend, for I am one of those fools on a quest. All my life have I sought one such place, and for many years the burning thought of my destination eclipsed the magic and wonders of the journey. Even now, in my older and wiser years, I fear its hold is too strong on me. Once I longed to uncover its secrets, to drink of its ancient mysteries as greedily as a babe suckling milk. I think now, simply, if I should find it, hold it in my eyes, and be struck dead the next moment, I should die a happy man."

He glances at his pipe to discover it has gone out, forgotten in his hand as he spoke. Sighing, he pulls out a wooden match, strikes it alight on the bricks and rekindles his pipe. He takes a long, slow draw, and puffs out a thick cloud of smoke. In its swirling depths there is a vague and misty shape of towers and ruined buildings, and the old storyteller gazes longingly into it.

"Mm. My spirit my be willing, but my legs and feet are those of an old man whether I like it or not. You young folks seem to have many questions for a road-weary geezer. Before we continue, I feel I must sit."

With that, the mysterious ex-bard walks over to one of the large round tables next to the hearth. Without a word, his young ward follows him and takes the seat on his left. Glancing back, his master gestures at the empty spots at the table. "Well? There is room enough for all you eager listeners."

[Philistine]

Zak

"Very well, Master Bard." Zak grabs his mug and hops down from his seat, pausing to snatch some bread and cheese on his way to the table where the old bard has seated himself. He reaches up to plunk his mug on the table a third of the way around from the bard's seat, then hoists himself up into the chair before turning to face Idogbe. "Say on - since you clearly have more you would say."

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

The xeph smiles at the old man's advice then gets up to follow him to the table. He picks up his mug, now nearly empty, and an apple and moves toward the table. As he moves, he tries to catch one of the Whitby's eyes, holding his mug up and tapping the side as a gesture for a second. He sits down across from the bard and speaks as the others (presumably) move toward the table. "Thanks for the advice, but I think I shall continue to wander the roads in search of the world's great sites. If it is a choice between spending my life in a fruitless search of the world or sitting on my rear wondering what might have been if I only had the courage to leave home, I will certainly take the former. Though so far, I can hardly say my searches have been fruitless." He gives the man a wink and after polishing the apple on his sleeve, he takes a large crisp and juicy bite.

[H Savvy]

The old bard chuckles at this latest comment. "Oh, yes, fruitless, very nice, young man. Very clever. It would seem you are most determined to ignore my admonition, but I believe I should have known this by your very appearance. The men of your race, my young friend, are not too often seen on this continent, and you do not seem a man on any great errand. More than that, in your eyes, I see the very spark of wanderlust that glistened in mine own so many years ago."

While he pauses, seemingly collecting his thoughts, the table is joined by four newcomers: the halfling man and his two sons, and Edmund, the young, pale-faced son of the inkeeper.

"A right fine tune you sang earlier, sir, most tremendously moving. Nothing like a fine bit of song or story to aid the old digestion, my granddad used to say, he did. And I've had quite a meal to digest, so if there is to be more sir, I'd hear it gladly," the grossly fat halfling says as he takes his seat. His two sons and the innkeeper's boy say nothing.

"My thanks, little friend," begins Idogbe, "for your kind words. But if it is more song you seek, I'm afraid that was my last performance this evening, though my fellow bard here may yet oblige.

If it is a tale you are after, I may yet satisfy your craving, but not with your standard fare of adventure and heroics. Instead, I tell the tale of my life's quest. Tales, I should say, for I have been at it a long time indeed.

I have been laughed out of several institutions because of what I seek, for many learned men feel it is more fairy-tale than fact. It was the greatest site of the Old People, those ancient men from before the world as we know it began. It is said they achieved marvels beyond those we have even dreamed of yet, and that the greatest site of learning and advanced knowledge was a mighty institution, so vast as to be nearly a village. I speak, of course... of Khazarum."

A weighty silence follows this pronouncement, and even the crackle of the fire seems muted. A long second slips by, then another, then another.

The enormously fat halfling bursts out laughing, very loudly, shattering the eerie silence. "Oh, indeed! You almost had me there for a moment, with how serious you started that yarn. Khazarum! Ohohoho! It's a children's story!" His laughter continues for a moment, before faltering at the sight of the old man's face. Not a hint of a smile had crossed it. "Well, err, that is to say, sir, if you, ah, won't be singing anymore of your songs tonight, then I, aheh, I believe that I shall re, uh, retire for the evening." He and his two sons rise from the table and head across the room and up the staircase by the main entrance, nodding to the innkeeper and his wife as they pass.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Annikko folds her arms and tries to look cross, but only succeeds in looking cute. Then she grins. Any dream worth having is worth laughing at... but you haven't reached the punchline yet. And I've got to admit that I'd like to see it when you get there. Annikko touches her chin and frowns in thought. And then she nods, coming to a decision. Alright. I've made up my mind. I shall join you on your quest! Luck you, teehee. It suddenly occurs to Annikko that she didn't ask Idogbe whether or not he would welcome her companionship, but she's not too concerned. She couldn't imagine that anyone wouldn't want her along.

Would like to know what Annikko knows at Khazarum.

[roll0]

[Philistine]

Zak

The halfling's eyes unfocus for a moment when the old man puts a name to his quest. Khazarum? Wait, wasn't that...

Zak is not an academic by any means, and generally is less than fascinated with "tallfolk history." But there's a chance that Khazarum might have come up at some point during his training, and a (lesser) chance that it might have been a subject of barracks chatter during a long, boring stint on garrison duty. So, let's see what the dice have to say...
Knowledge (Arcana): [roll0],
or Knowledge (History): [roll1]

[Kyroswolf]

Gliff

All signs of Gliff's inebriation disappear as he moves to the table with Idogbe. He is uncharacteristically quiet as he listens for the tale.

[H Savvy]

Zak:
The name Khazarum sticks out in your memory, but only vaguely, most likely only because the name is a memorable one. If you remember correctly, Khazarum was some sort of fairy-tale city, thousands of years old, before the Old Ones died out. There was powerful magic there, some said, or powerful science. Stories of it differ, and these days, are fairly rare. ((about equivalent to a secondary fairy tale like the story of Rose Red. People know it, but not all that many, and many of those who do are vague on the details))

Idogbe smiles wanly at the young gnome. "My dear, you are not the first to ask such a thing, nor, I wager, the last. Many along the years have been my companion on this lifelong search of mine, for they hear tales of glory and wish a taste for themselves, but the road is long, and difficult, and mostly without excitement. If you truly wish to accompany me, I will not attempt to stop you, but I suspect we will part ways before to long.

Save only this young man, few have stayed with me longer than a year."

At Zak's question, Idogbe looks at the faces gathered around him, all eager for a tale. "I see I shall have to cover a bit of history with this one.

Khazarum... the ancient citadel. None today know the location where once it stood, but in its day, dating all the way back to the peak of the Old Ones' civilaztion, it was one of the world's true wonders.

In the center was the greatest center of learning ever constructed. An institution devoted to knowledge, it was the Great Academy of Khazarum that was truly the heart of that bygone city. The other buildings sprang up around it, from it, because of it, and the city grew. Scholars flocked there in droves, bringing wives and families; opportunistic craftsmen and merchants saw an opening for new business, and the city thrived.

The Academy was a place of constant activity. It was University, Laboratory, and Library all in one, and many are the tales of the wonders housed and created therein.

Many "respectable" scholars disbelieve its existence, for it has become the realm of fantasy and folk tale. Most know the tale of Little Sharee and the four ghosts of Khazarum, clearly a child's tale and no more, and declare the place a myth. But I have spent my entire life studying it, and I assure you, there are far more tales than that..."

[Philistine]

Zak

The fussy little halfling blinks, startled, when Igdobe answers him - he hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. "But you know where to look for it?," he interjects incredulously. "Assuming, of course, that there really is something to it besides children's stories - even so, it's been a thousand years or more! What makes you think there'd even be anything left to be found, much less that there's any chance of finding it?"

[H Savvy]

"A lifetime of research, and nothing more," the old man says, in a cold and flat voice. "You need not believe me, and I have no particular inclination to persuade you, particularly if insist on using that tone.

His voice becomes more animated as he continues. "I am close, though. My young friend and I have just come from a recently unearthed burial cave. Positively ancient. It spoke at length of a certain "lost golden city" and kept repeating a phrase that translates to "the tome fell."

Perhaps if I put it into context.

'The tome fell,
unleashed its spell
and Little Sharee shrieked.

Strange figures four
stood at the door
And there began to speak.

"We four have died
why have you pried
us from our final rest?

We shan't return
until we earn
the heart from out your chest."'

Not the version you are used to, I suspect, for the children's tale told today has been diluted and changed to be "more suitable for children."

I have no doubt the cave was referring to Khazarum, and with the other information I have collected, I have no doubt I will find this place before I die."

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Annikko furrows her brow. Say uhh... that poem sounds kind of like a warning or something. Maybe you ought to just leave things be? You wouldn't want to awaken some ancient evil or something. Those things never turn out well.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed has been leaning back in his chair listening in silence. One hand holds his chin, the other lies across his chest. An apple core sits before him on the table.

Finally, he replies to Annikko, "Not necessarily evil. I'll grant you that the rhyme made it sound that way, but the 'tear out your heart' could just as easily refer to filling the listener with melancholy at the fall of the academy or something. But why am I speculating? We have the premier researcher on the matter right here. What do you think it means?"

[H Savvy]

"I'm sorry, I presumed too much familiarity on your parts with the subject I have studied all my life. Those lines are from the climax of the tale, and must sound rather fearsome without the rest of it.

Poor Little Sharee, she was pushed and prodded and wheedled into a dare to spend the night in the haunted ruins of Khazarum, to prove she didn't believe in ghosts. She finds a sheltered area and curls up to sleep. In the middle of the night she awakens, frightened by the noises of nighttime animals and her spooky surroundings, goes exploring to keep her mind off the idea of haunted ruins.

She finds herself in an immense library, so large she cannot see where it ends, and in front of her, surrounded by a strange, glowing light, was a very large book on a pedestal. She approaches it, and senses that it is a very magical book. She opens it, and a strange and eeriee voice calls out from within it, and frightened, she slams the cover shut, but she overdoes it, and it falls from its pedestal and onto the floor.

Four ghosts appeared to her, and she fled. In the modern children's version, they chased her throughout the ruins all night, frightening her half to death. She eventually returns the book to its pedestal just in time for sunrise, and emerges from the ruins, with white hair and definitely believe in ghosts.

The interesting thing about this story is that though it comes to us from ancient times, already it refers to Khazarum as "ruined." I believe it's out there somewhere. I feel it calling me ever onward. As for what it may hold... who can say? Great evil? Perhaps, but unlikely, I would say; sometimes, when all is said and done, stories are only stories."

[Philistine]

Zak

"And you truly do believe you can find it," Zak says in a softer, more thoughtful tone. "Interesting. Very interesting." He leans back from the table and takes a long drink from his mug.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

"So, you say you think you have an idea where this place is. Obviously somewhere beyond Tansier, but perhaps you'd be willing to tell us a little more about where you suspect it is. Like I said, I have done my fair share of travelling, and know something about a great many places. If it is somewhere I haven't spent much time, I might like to accompany you as well. It might be a nice trip."

Assuming he name's an area, here's a Knowledge: Geography roll to see what Ahmed has heard about the area. [roll0]

[H Savvy]

"I am sure you are all trustworthy people, have no doubt, but sometimes one must be particularly careful of ah, rivalrous peers. I'll gladly share tales of Khazarum, or of my journeys, but some things are rather akin to professional secrets." Idogbe winks at Ahmed.

[H Savvy]

Jaron the traveler didn't really agree with the old man, feeling that only by sharing knowledge could bards truly succeed, but he respected the older bard's devotion to finding the object of his obsession, for Jaron, too, had something he desperately longed to find.

"If you are glad to tell them, sir, I would be glad to listen to any tale from a well-traveled bard such as you, particularly those of your life's work."


The old man smiled, and his posture improved slightly, uncurling the slouch of his old age. He took a long, slow draw from his ornately carved pipe and exhaled, slowly.

And then the tales began. If any doubted the old man's skill as a storyteller, there could be no doubts anymore. His passion for the subject was evident, and all sitting at that table felt the energy that seemed to fill him, felt themselves pulled in by his words to a fantastic lost world.

Khazarum, the ancient; Khazarum, where all knowledge of the Old Ones was kept. He spoke of captivating, otherworldly architecture. Of the massive library, home of the greatest tomes of knowledge, of accurate histories of times long before our own recorded history, of medicine and deep magics and science.

He told long-forgotten folk tales of great strife in the land, and how the people turned to Khazarum to seek guidance and wisdom and power. Many tales of this kind were told; one particularly ancient story had the hero travel to a Khazarum still standing, but most spoke of the Academy already being a ruin, into which the protagonist would descend, and return a true Hero.

The night wore on, and the few stragglers at the other tables had headed off to bed, but no one at the table with the bard felt the weight of that late hour. The stories kept flowing. The Innkeeper and his wife retired to their room, instructing their son to close the floo when he was finished listening to the old bard's stories. The enrapt little boy barely heard her.

Idogbe was in the middle of retelling the full, original version of the story of Little Sharee, and the vivid descriptions of the spooky old ruins seemed strangely mirrored in the shadowy corners of the inn's common room, now only dimly lit by the dying fire and a few small lamps.

"The tome fell,
unleashed its spell
and Little Sharee shrieked.

Strange figures four
stood at the door
And there began to speak."

And there he stopped. He stared blankly ahead of him, as though he had forgotten the next verse. He looked vaguely confused as he slumped forward, his head down on the table, his arms hanging at his sides. The pipe in his left hand dropped and hit the floor with a soft thump.

And then there was only silence.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed sat in shocked silence for a moment before slowly reaching over to gently shake the old man's arm. "Sir, are you alright? Has the lateness of the hour overtaken you? Could I offer you a hand up to bed?" he asks, praying that it is simply a sudden nap. Somewhere in his heart he fears that it is something worse. Assuming the man does not respond within a moment, he reaches over a second time to check for signs of life.

[H Savvy]

The old man does not respond.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Annikko is up immediately with a shriek of alarm. Instead of hopping down from her seat, she hops up on the table and runs across it, knocking over a lamp in her haste. When she reaches the old man she gives his arm a brief shake and then holds up a silver pendant attached to a chain. By the command of Garl Glittergold, a priest shall tend to the wounded! Her words invoke some otherworldly power and she places a hand on Idogbe's head.

Cast cure moderate wounds.

[Philistine]

Zak

Zak remains in his seat as Ahmed and Anniko go to the old man's side; he has neither talent nor training in the healing arts and doesn't want to get in the way of someone who might actually be able to do some good.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

When it is clear to him that there is something more wrong with the man than simple exhaustion, Ahmed steps back. A worried expression is spread across his face. He stands away in silence for a few moments, then asks "Is there anything I can do?" He didn't really expect that there was, but wanted to offer regardless. As he continues to watch, he says a short, silent prayer. Heironeous, this man seems to have lived an honorable life. Please show him your mercy and let him live at least long enough to see his life's mission realized. His hand fumbles beneath his loose clothing for a moment to find a small, somewhat beaten-up holy symbol which he then clutches between his fingers.

[H Savvy]

Anniko:
The little gnome rushing up and across the table to come to the elderly bard's aid feels the power of her god swell and fill her, just as always it does, but this time, the holy power will not flow into her intended target.

The old man is clearly dead.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Anniko

Annikko rises up and shakes her head. There isn't anything that anyone can do. He's gone from this world. Gone when his dream was so close.

Annikko reaches over and pushes Idogbe's body so that it leans back against his seat, and then brushes her fingers over his eyes, closing them.

[H Savvy]

Little Edmund is staring wildly, his eyes open wide with shock and fear. He looks confused, and on the verge of tears.

Gliff interjects with a quiet "Thish... thish ishn't supposed to happen..."

The young innkeeper's son loses his internal battle with stoicism, and as the tears begin to stream down his face, he turns from the table and runs.

Young Jonathan, the old man's ward, looks terrible. Pale, and slightly green, he looks as though bewitched, his eyes empty and and staring.

Jaron the Traveler casts his gaze about at the remaining seven living members of the group around the table. "What do we do now?"

[Philistine]

Zak

"Well," the halfling says calmly, looking up from his alemug, "I suggest moving his body up to his room for now. After that, we'll all raise a glass in his honor. And in a day or two it may be that the rain will ease off so we can get him into the ground."

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed stands and moves around behind Idogbe and his young companion. He places a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder, trying to give him some measure of comfort. He leans down and quietly whispers to him, "Help me show the man some respect. I'll carry his body upstairs to a bed. Can you go before me and open the doors for him?"

(Once the boy acknowledges him...)Ahmed carefully picks up Idogbe's body, laying him across his arms. "I'll take him upstairs," he says solemnly and begins carrying him toward the stairs.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko


Annikko sighs as the innkeeper's son runs away. She had wanted to pull him against her and tell him everything would be alright, but she'd never be able to catch up to him, and the opportunity was lost. She turns to the others. Wait a minute, nobody is doing anything yet. Jonas and Susan need to be told, since I reckon they deserve a say in what needs to be done. Hold everything, I'll be right back. Annikko lithely hops off the table and lands with a light thump and then trots off to find Jonas so she can tell him the bad news.

[H Savvy]

As Ahmed lays his hand tentatively upon the shoulder of the old man, his body shifts and slumps forward. As the xeph reaches to pull him back up, the ancient head rises slowly...

Jaron the Traveler gasps, and the somewhat inebriated Gliff just stares in mute shock.

Then the old man's eyes snap open, blank white orbs staring madly out. A deep, gravelly voice, both like and unlike the old man's, croaks out.

"Over sea and over land, the road to ancient secrets spans,
where once the sacred river ran, the tower stands, the tower stands!"

The old man's body jerks on its own, seemingly turning him to face the others at the table, his mouth pulled into a horrible mockery of a grin, his blank eyes wide and staring, staring....

"No ghosts there are, but still they guard! Death for those without the shard!
Seek the key or the way is barred and painful death your just reward," he calls out in his grating voice, leering madly, blindly at the small collection of people, his head jerking and lolling.

"Six shells around its rim, six sparks must light within,
six times six do give it spin, six again spun widdershins.

The secret of the key is sealed, it's lost location unrevealed.
Seek the key to seek the key, but ware the keeper, ware the sea.

The ancient place lies yet unfound, sleeping deep beneath the ground
Dare you wake it with your sounds? Or shall your will by fear be drowned?

Ware the darkness, ware the way, but know you'll once again see day,
Not all who enter are doomed to stay, but know there is a price to pay.

One, at least, within shall fall, one left behind inside its walls,
One who'll feel the icy pall and ashy chill of the reaper's call.

Gold and silver and metals rare, this and more lie in that lair,
But greater treasures still are there for those of whom who are aware"

The old man lurches forward over the table, arms limply hanging at his sides, eyelids opened wide, blank white orbs staring out madly, his bearded face twisted into a terrifying rictus grin.

Do not shy from destiny! Seek the key to seek the key!
Seek the key to seek..."
He trails off with a quiet gurgle and slumps down, sliding off the edge of the table and onto the floor. The old man is still.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Jumping back with a start, Ahmed stares in shock for a split second before realizing something important must be happening. His hand darts into his pocket and pulls out a small bit of chalk. He drops to his knees and begins scrawling down as much of the corpse's speech as he can on the floor beside him, not wanting to let any of this information pass on to the ages.

[Philistine]

Zak

When the old mans corpse began moving and speaking, Dast had backed away slowly, wide-eyed, drawing his dagger from his belt with one hand as he readied his arsenal of spells. Now he returns his blade to its sheath, snarling, "It seems I was mistaken. We ought to bury the old man now, tonight. Before something like that happens again."

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Annikko, who hadn't gone more than a few steps, also stares at the speaking body, though she doesn't make any move for a weapon. For a while she's silent and stunned, though eventually she turns to address Zak. Don't you understand? He didn't turn into a zombie of all the sudden. That was... a message from the gods.

[Philistine]

Zak

"The gods?" Zak asks, his eyes still fixed on Igdobe's body. "Perhaps so. Very well - assume that is correct. But then the question is, which gods would choose such a... macabre means of sending messages?"

[H Savvy]

"The gods? Or that crazy old man? Magic is capable of many things," Jaron replies. "Either way, he seems done now," he adds dryly.

"Did it make shense to anyone else? It din't make musch sense t'me. Sounded ominous, though..." offers Gliff. "What about you, boy? Did any o'that key stuff mean somethin' to you?"

Jonathan looks surprised to be addressed. Until the gnome spoke, he had been in a state of near total shock, staring mutely at his late master since the old man first collapsed on the table. "I.. th.. key?"
The boy stares strangely at the gnome. "It was part of M-Master Idogbe's r-research," he sniffles, holding back tears at the mention of the dead man's name. "A talisman. He- he believed it would communicate with the Academy somehow. We only found one image of it, and just recently, carved into the stone wall of an ancient burial cave. A circle, about this large," he holds his hands out in front of him, thumb and fingers on each hand just almost touching the other, making a circle about 5 inches across, "in the center was a mark. Some stone or crystal, he thought... he... he thought..."

The boy buries his face in his arms and the soft sound of sobbing can be heard from him.

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed examines his writing for a moment, reading it over a second time then stands and tucks the chalk away. He turns around carefully and moves over next to the boy, being certain not to walk across his chalk marks. He places a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder and pats it gently. "It's okay. He may not live anymore, but I'm sure he'd want you to stay strong and continue the search without him. You still have the opportunity to fulfill his life's dream. He may be with the gods now, but you aren't and you can still follow the trail. I'm sure he'd be happy to see you doing that."

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Annikko also rushes to Jon's side, though her tactic is different. Ohh honey, come here. Burying his head in her chest isn't possible, so instead she throws her arms around his waist and pulls herself against him, patting his back and cooing.

[H Savvy]

Jonathan pulls away from Annikko uncomfortably, fiercely rubbing his eyes. "'M notachild," he says, sulkily, eyes fighting back tears.

Just then, the sound fo hurried footsteps is heard, and Mrs. Whitby flows swiftly and gracefully down the stairs in a cream-colored nightgown, followed somewhat less swiftly and gracefully by Jonas, dressed in a pinstripe nightgown and nightcap.

"Now, now, what's all this commotion 'ere about? Me boy Edmund tears into me an me wife's bedroom lookin' like 'es seen a ghost, he does, an' we can't get hide nor hair outta him bu' tears, if it do ya, and I don't take partic'larly kind to that sort of frightenin' my boy, thankya."

"Please," adds Mrs. Whitby quietly, "what happened to Edmund? And what happened to Mr. Salandrian?" she adds sharply, noticing the old man.

[Philistine]

Zak

"I'll thank you not to take such an accusatory tone," Zak says frostily. "Nothing happened to your child that didn't happen to all the rest of us here also. The old man keeled over dead in mid-yarn; that's the sight that sent your son running to you. I can only imagine how he'd be crying if he'd still been here when the old boy sat up again and started rattling off doggerel about ghosts and keys - that was truly disturbing, and you can thank whatever gods you hold dear that you missed it."

[H Savvy]

"Are ye callin' me son a coward? I'll take whate'er tone I like in my own establishment! I'll remind ye that ye're a guest here, sir, and I-" begins Jonas.

At the same time, Jonathan bursts out with an angry "Don't you belittle Master Idogbe! He was a greater man than any of us could ever hope to be! He-"

And Prazik Wynn begins with a more conciliatory "Now, now, I think we all need to just calm down a little and take a look at what happened. We're all a little on edge from-"

Their voices mix and rise to an incomprehensible din before the clear, inarguable voice of a practiced mother cuts across the noise. "Stop it this instant, all of ye!" cries Susan Whitby. "I'll thank ye to all behave yerselfs in my home and business. Ye're not the only patrons this evening, and I can't imagine it's too easy t'sleep through this infernal racket." As the noise cuts, she rolls her eyes lets out a quiet sigh that sounds suspiciously like "..men.."

"It's clearly been a long night for everyone. I am glad that nothing's happened to our boy Edmund, so I am," she shoots a pointed look at her husband, "and I'm very sorry ye all have been caught up in this. Now, would someone," she glances at those assembled, "some one of ye, like to tell us what happened here?"

"When everyone else headed off to their rooms," begins the bounty hunter, we stayed behind, held in thrall by the old man's stories. Such stories he told! But I fear the lateness of the hour, his advanced age, and the fervor of his recitation, proved too much for poor Mr. Idogbe. He collapsed in mid-tale. When he wouldn't respond, we checked him, and found he was dead. That was when your boy ran off, and I can't blame him. One's first personal experience with death is always... jarring."

Susan's stern expression softens as she hears the tracker's account, and all the fight and bluster drains out of Jonas. "Oh, Jonathan, I'm so sorry. Jonas, dear, go fetch that wand of Gentle Repose from the back. There should still be a charge or two left. We'll keep Mr. Salandrian safe for the night. Once the storm blows past, we'll have a proper respectful burial. Now, I think it's time everyone left the common room and headed off to bed, so I do. This is enough excitement for one night."

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

"You are certainly a voice of reason, and I think I shall do just that, if you'll give me a moment to clean up my mess here," he gestures to the ground. "I have to apologize to you. In my excitement to record Mr. Salandrian's last words, those spoken after his death, I wrote on whatever was at hand. Unfortunately it was your floor. I'll happily clean it up myself, but first does someone have a sheet of parchment and some ink? I'd like to record this in a more permanent form, then I can wash away my hasty chalk marks." Ahmed shifts from foot to foot, almost nervously as he speaks.

[H Savvy]

Jonas blusters indignantly. "After his death, so ye say?! I'm not havin that thing in my 'stablishment, I'm not! Whole thing stinks of bad magic, do ye ken, and-"

"The wand, dear. It should be in the top drawer of the desk, if it please ye," says Susan calmly but firmly. The portly innkeeper looks at his wife, but finding no compromise in her face, deflates and heads through the small unadorned door behind the counter at the entrance.

"Now, Mr. Nashoor, I hear tell the folk o' Gol-Mar've got good manners, an ye certainly seem t'live up t'that. I don't know what ye may or may not ha' seen or heard, but it would be a kindness if ye could keep it t'yerself from now on. It matters not t'me what ye say, but ghost stories kill business, so they do, an' I'd appreciate yer not scaring away our customers.

I'll get ye a scrap o' parchment and pen from the front counter f'yer writing, but as fer th'mess ye made on my floor, s'long as it's jus' chalk, ye can leave it. I'll clean it up when I get up in th'morning.

Speaking of morning, it's nearly that time, and I'd like a spot more sleep before it comes, so I would. I'm heading back to sleep now, an' I suggest ye all do the same, an quickly."

With that, she heads over to the counter and grabs a small scrap of rough parchment, along with a quill and inkbottle. She presents them to the xeph, telling him to return the pen and ink to the counter before he retires, then heads up the stairs and is gone.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Annikko

Everyone yelling and rushing around naturally meant that she would be ignored, so Annikko simply stays out of the way and tries not to get kicked. As the others leave, she stays behind, assuming that she will be called upon to activate the wand, and she quietly sings.

Stormy nights
Fading lights
Kneel and pray
For a summer day...

[dariathalon]

Ahmed

Ahmed nods his understanding to Mrs. Whitby, making a mental note to be careful what he says around the Whitby's not wanting to further offend. "Thank you," he says taking the paper. "And thank you for cleaning up my mess."

He sits down at the table and begins to rewrite what he'd written onto the floor onto his paper. When the Whitby's have retreated upstairs, he says quietly, "I think I'm going to see what I can make of these directions. May as well see what I can do about making sure this man's dream is reached by someone." When he is done writing, he folds the paper and tucks it into a pocket and stands to return the ink and quill to where Mrs. Whitby had found it.

"That all will wait for morning though. For now, it is time for bed." He yawns, finally feeling the lateness of the hour catching up with him. Ahmed begins to slowly trudge upstairs toward his room.

[Philistine]

Zak

Without another word, Zak turns and stamps off toward his room to sleep.

[H Savvy]

"What'sh his prollem?" Gliff mumbles, before trudging off to his room with a slight weave to his stride.

Jonas trundles back into the room with a small, thin wand. It is made from pale wood, and seems willowy and pliable. A tiny fragment of a crystal gleams at its tip. "'Ere y'are, love," Jonas says, followed by a large yawn.

"Thank ye, dear. Now go upstairs an get ye t'bed, but make ye sure our son is aligh' first, do ye." After he plods up the stairs with a "Yes, dear", she mutters to herself, lightly slapping the wand against her open palm, "Oh, I wish it wasn't the middle 'o th'night. Uncle Barnabas won't like bein' got up this early, but I jus' can't leave poor Mr. Salandrian...
Besides, it's a priest's duty, an' he's family, what's more.

...an' even ungrateful family's family."