[Unicorn] The Frontier of Verazemya [IC]

[Felhammer]

Twelve years ago, you heard the news - Professor Semyon Molnii discovered the Vestnik and was the first human to travel to Verazemya. He returned with a mountain of mithril, which made him the third richest man in Koromya. You heard the stories of whole families being inspired by the Professor, rushing off to the "Frontier" to find their own bit of fame and fortune. You also heard the terrible statistics of how three quarters of all people who traveled to Verazemya never return. You heard the tales of rabid mantis-men rending a man's chest open with ease, of terrifying creatures like Owlbears and Winter Wolves, of enormous Giants and tiny Faeries. You heard the rumors of the crown sending prisoners to Verazemya rather than to the over-crowded stockades. You knew the government of Koromya was corrupt but you never imagined that the Crown Guards would accuse you of a crime (that you may or may not have committed), arrest you and send you off to the dreaded frontier of Verazemya...

You resisted, as anyone would, but the chains were tight and the guards dreadfully serious. You were shoved through the pink-purple portal and instantly transported to Verazemya. You stood atop the hard, stone ruins of an ancient, heathen pyramid; before you stood the town of Evagrad, the largest settlement on the Frontier. No one batted an eye as you were marched down the pyramid steps and into the Tower of Orel, where Prince Boris reigned supreme. While the corpulent man devoured enough food to feed a small village, he informed you that though you could never return to Koromya, there was much you could do here on the Frontier. That you could start your life anew and become famous, wealthy and, perhaps, even a legend. By his decree, he pardoned you of your crimes, gave you 100 gold and asked that you leave his presence with a modicum of dignity.

As you are escorted out of the Orel Tower, you immediately become aware of the heat of the noon-day sun beating down oppressively overhead. It is summer on the Frontier, which is surprising since when you left Koromya, it was the dead of winter. Shedding some of your excess clothing, you wander out into the cobblestone street. You see a quaint little town of no more than a few thousand around you. Two towers and the pyramid dominate the skyline. In the distance, you can make out a heavy wooden wall surrounding the entire town. The people in the street appear to run the gamut between rich and poor, city-dweller and explorer. You spy a nice looking Tavern near the pyramid; the gentle summer breeze blows by, shaking the sign back and forth. It reads "The Traveling Unicorn’s Hall, come for a drink, leave for adventure." Considering what you have just been through, no one would fault you for partaking in some Ale... Or some mead... Or some wine... Heck, whatever the tavern may serve, really.

The Traveling Unicorn’s Hall is a pleasant looking establishment, split into two levels. The first is a fairly typical tavern, populated with a mixture of different shaped and sized tables, a long bar, a large stone hearth and a small stage. Above the tavern on the second floor, appears to be a petite inn. The tavern has a fair number of people, mostly minding their own business. No one looks up as you enter. A short Halfling stands atop the stage singing traditional drinking songs. A few of the patrons sing, some would say slur, along loudly. The Barkeep is a jovial looking male Human, who sports a long ivory white apron and fairly long brown beard.

[Servbot]

Ridley

Ridley tugs at one of her long locks, sighing exasperatedly. Oh, she disliked the heat. Disliked summer. Her brothers would all link arms and drag her about the room, singing merrily of all the good times... but Ridley found that, compared to her jolly brothers, she was much more morose.

Came as no surprise at least, that she felt drawn to an entirely different clerical order. Also came as no surprise that she hated, hated, HATED the thought of suitors chasing after her, and her mother who insisted she never cut her hair because, 'Dear, your hair is beautiful'.

Now, far away from home, Ridley strongly considers chopping it all off. Gone, like the wind. Maybe give them to some bald soothsayer who believes they can cultivate it on their own head. Hah! Wouldn't that be a sight!

She plops down near the bar. "I've got coin that says you've got great mead," she grins, still amused by the thought. "An' since I read y'advertise adventure, I'm hopin' to replace that coin quickly."

[Henry the 57th]

Count von Etera

Disgusting wretch the count thinks as his small party walks down the street. Disgusting, fat, obscene... filth! He grits his teeth even as he guides his horse towards the taverns. They say one can always find what one is looking for in taverns... He ponders the question for a moment, before deciding that it's at least worth a try. It's not like he has anything better to do.

Handing over his horse to his retainers, the count orders them to stay outside and watch, both over his horse and for any incoming trouble. "Don't want to attract too much attention in a tavern straight away, you know." he says to the now rather harried elves. "Don't worry, he says in a softer tone, despite what that bloated toad told us, we will get home again someday. I swear to you." The retainers perk up slightly at their count's oath.

Entering the tavern, Count von Etera looks around. He snorts softly in disgust at the rampant alcoholism on display. And that music... he suppresses a shudder. Inferior, but what else could he expect?

The count walks over to the bar and sits down on the cleanest seat he can find. "I don't suppose you might have anything of elven make?" he asks the bartender.

[Felhammer]

The Barkeep looks positively shocked to see not one but two new faces! "The name's Pasha Petrov. I own this little gem of a Tavern. Bought it after I retired from a life of adventuring out in the wilds up north of here. I fought Gnomes, Bogolos, Orcs, Goblins and Centaurs. I ventured into deep mines, dark forests and under the sea. I've seen it all, done it all. But that's me, we're here to talk about you."

The plain looking man bows deeply before the fair maiden and pours her a tankard of mead, "They call this Gnomic Honeyshroom Mead. It is very rare and very expensive. For you, it is free for you have relieved my tired old eyes of the weariness of age and shed twenty years off my soul."

He then looks over at the Count and merely says, "Elven... I do have a bottle of Old Elven Brandy sitting around here, from twenty years back. This, like the mead, is very expensive and - unfortunately - one of a kind. I could be persuaded to part with it but, it would cost you a fair amount of coin. Say, fifty Crowns?"

[Servbot]

Ridley

Seated beside her, one of those foppish Elves! Oh, Ridley remembers her first run in with elves. Their arrogance, unequalled. Thought elf society was the height of all civilisation, when really, they died just as much as any human. Well, strictly less, but only because there were less of them. As far as her line of work goes, though, Ridley's helped plenty of elves settle into the after-life; Enough to know that, when it comes down to it, everyone's equal when they die.

"Hah! I like y'r style, barkeep!" Ridley says, eyes glimmering. "Blessings of the Lady upon ye!" She thankfully takes the tankard, taking a deep drink before setting it down. "I'm Ridley Ironarm, though the arm's my grandfather's. 'fraid I haven't a list of adventures to give, but I hope to be able to, some day."

[Felhammer]

Pasha smiles warmly as he watches Ridley quaff the tankard. "Now you mentioned Adventure, did you not? Well..." He leans in close and puts his hand up so as to prevent the High Elf from eavesdropping, "I have heard rumors - and you know how rumors go - but this rumor was from a fairly reliable source you see. My informant told me that he spotted a downed cart to the south of here... A cart filled with," and he whispers this part, "Mithril. My informant was badly hurt by an attack from raging nymphs. Said he barely escaped with his life. Swore never to return. I bought the information off him for a pretty penny..." The Barkeep leans back and nods. Would you be interested in such information?"

Count von Etera

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Your long Elven ears are much more finely tuned to picking up soft sounds. The Barkeep made a valiant effort of hiding his conversation but, alas, you heard every word.

[Henry the 57th]

"Gratifying as it is to see my people's work held in such deserved high esteem, perhaps we might negotiate a lower price, hmmm?"

[Servbot]

Ridley

Wise not to mingle in the affairs of elves (though if it's up to Ridley, the fop can go take a hike right now), Ridley focuses on the matter at hand: Something to do which, with some degree of hope, would bring either honour to her hand, an opportunity to perform her services or, better yet, more coin.

No one said a priest had to eschew gold and favour sermons -- honestly, Ridley finds the former to have a much sweeter voice.

"I would at that," Ridley completely ignores the elf's attempts at cheaper drinks, "s'how much coin we talkin' about, and is the information exclusive?"

[Felhammer]

Pasha rolls his eyes at the count and flashes a stern gaze, "Sir, you cannot just barter with the likes of me. Do I look like a man who barters?" The Barkeep's frown quickly turns into laughter, "Had you goin' there for a minute, didn't I?"

As he continues to laugh, he looks over at Ridley and says, "The information isn't cheap, nor can I guarantee exclusivity. You see, there's gang of Bandits out that way. Call themselves the Black Desperados. Their leader, one Henreik Von Bach, is known assassin. Heck, last summer he tried to kill Prince Boris! He's a High Elf (not unlike your friend), who's long wished to kill Prince Boris and his family, then take over Evagrad! I'd hate to see them find that cache *ahem* and use it to fund their devious efforts."

[Henry the 57th]

"Then what say we talk like reasonable adults." replies von Etera, not particularly amused at the man's joke.

When the count hears what the bartender says to the girl, he leans in close and whispers to him. "And what would be so bad about that? The obese man is already quite a poor leader, and a poor host, if you ask me."

[Servbot]

Ridley

The girl nods during this tale, but raises a hand in protest at one detail. "His Higness here's no friend a'mine," the cleric corrects. "He─or she, can ne'er tell wi'elves─just plopped down next t'me.

"Now, though, a quest 'gainst villainy! There's somethin' t'get the blood stirrin'. Awright, how much's this gonna cost me? And," she turns towards the Count, levelling a finger at his chest, "I know you Elves think you're so much better than us, but would it kill you to have the common decency to hold your flappin' yap while we're talkin'?!"

[Henry the 57th]

The count shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Seeing your inferiors so riled up is always such a amusement.

He lightly brushes aside the finger. "I'm afraid that I came here for information on adventuring opportunities to be found, and this sounds like one to me."

[Archwizard]

Gorsomm

Unbelievable. I serve faithfully, only to end up here, and look at that fat pig in that tower. I bet he's the least trustworthy of anyone.

Gorsomm walks away from the tower with a scowl on his face. Absent-mindedly he fingers his twin battleaxes as he as walks. Figuring that a drink is definitely called for, Gorsomm makes for the Unicorn tavern. As he enters, he glances around before making for the bartender. He sees him with a bit of a group, so Gorsomm walks up and rather gruffly says, "Barkeep, mug of ale."

[Servbot]

Ridley

"Adventure? Hah! Well, s'that so, huh?" She sizes the elf up. Well, far as elves go, they're all the fragile-looking sort. 'Course, they're known for their wizardry, so he might be formidable. Maybe.

She turns back to the bartender. "Pasha, since we've here got the interest in th'same deal a'yours, how 'bout you tell us both, we split the cost, eh?" She grins at the high elf. "Unless, a'course, y'r dyin' to spend more elfgolds than y'need to."

[Henry the 57th]

"Acceptable," says the count, "If this is all you say it is." he says, looking the barman in the eye.

[Felhammer]

The Barkeep's laughter trails off at von Etera's suggestion. "You shouldn't speak in such a manner. Ever since the assassination attempt, it's been deemed illegal to even discuss the idea of... Well, you know. Now I'll admit Prince Boris isn't the best ruler there ever was (especially not after Vadipole) but he's a far sight better than his son, Duke Grigoriy. That boy's attitude makes High Elves look like the kindest, most loving folk in the world. Most of us townsfolk fear the day when Duke Grigoriy ascends to the throne... Hopefully the Count of Fort Sveta can wiggle his way onto the throne on account of his soon-to-be marriage to Prince Boris' eldest daughter... One can only hope."

The man sighs, then says, "One Crown for a glass of this Elven Brandy. Will that do goodsir?" As Pasha gathers the bottle of brandy and the cleanest (and smallest) glass, he looks at Ridley and says, "Thirty Crowns for the information."

[Felhammer]

Pasha greets the new arrival with a warm smile, "Welcome, welcome! Here's a tankard of ale to sooth the post-teleportation jitters from your bones. On the house that one is. Enjoy."

[Henry the 57th]

Count von Etera smiles at the bartender's offer for the brandy."Yes, that's far more reasonable. A glass of elven brandy, please." When he gets the glass, he pays fairly.

He leans in to whisper closely to the barman again. "I thought you said the elf wanted to kill Boris and his family, then take over himself. His family would include this son, would it not?"

[Archwizard]

Gorsomm

The fat pig isn't the best leader? Color me shocked.

Nodding at the barkeep, "I appreciate that. First decent thing to happen to me in a long time. I couldn't help but overhear a mention of adventure and information. Right about now I could use a reason to go bury my axes into something."

[Felhammer]

The Barkeep bellows out with laughter! He slaps the Elf on his shoulder and yells, "I never looked at it that way before! I like the way you think!" After a few more moments of laughter, Pasha looks the the new arrival and says, "Ah, so you think yourself a warrior, eh?" He gives you the once over, "You're a far sight more muscular than the standard lot we get coming through the Vestnik these days. I think these two could use your help... Though, this endeavor will not be simple nor easy. You would do well with a fourth companion, if you could find one." The Barkeep pours the High Elf his glass of brandy and tops off Gorsomm's tankard.

[Henry the 57th]

The count smiles. "They always do, my good man. They always do."

He takes an almost delicate sip of brandy, savoring the deep, woody flavor with just a hint of bitter and an oddly sweet aftertaste. It's a pity that superior alcohol is in such short supply in this backwater. Perhaps this assassin, if high elf he truly is, will have some I can negotiate away... or take from his corpse. The count smiles, then shrugs a little. Either way...

The count apprises the warrior before him. Hmmm... I could always do with more meat between myself and the enemy, if nothing more. Perhaps he'll even surprise me.

Aloud, he says to the warrior, "I agree. Your prescene on our little team here would be most beneficial for both of us. What would you say to joining our merry band?" The count wraps his arm around the woman and gives a friendly smile.

[Archwizard]

Gorsomm

Taking a big drought from the mug, "I don't think myself a warrior, I know I am one. Was a sergeant in the army before coming to this damned place. These axes aren't for show."

"I'm not much for smooth talkers. But if you're going somewhere interesting, I might be interested." He flexes a bit, "I know what I bring to the table, what do you?"

[Henry the 57th]

"The arts, mysteries, and secrets of the arcane." Count von Etera smiles.

[Servbot]

Ridley

Ridley very, very delicately removes herself from the Count's embrace. By which I mean she shoves him off of her.

"Hands t'yourself," she growls, before turning her attention to the new arrival. "Well, more's the merrier, so you're welcome t'join me and I'll even let this fop here join us." She clearly indicates the elf.

"As f'r my services, I've got prayer and sermons straight from th'Lady, an' if those won't work, well," Ridley points to the axe on her back, "there's always the blessings of th'axe."

[Archwizard]

Gorsomm

Gorsomm chuckles. "I like your style. I don't know much about the Lady, but I certainly know about bestowing axely blessings. The name's Gorsomm."

[Servbot]

Ridley

"Ridley," comes the response, and with an eye on the barkeep, "So Pasha, four makes trouble splittin' 30 Crowns, so how's 'bout we split it 'mong the three of us, an' if we find someone t'join us, well, that'll be our problem, yeah?" So saying, she reaches into her pouch to place 10 Crowns on the bar, looking at the other two expectantly.

[Henry the 57th]

"Hynius von Etera. A pleasure meeting you both." says the count with a friendly smile, having decided not to reveal his nobility to his new companions quite yet. He raises his glass in a toast. "And may our adventures prove fruitful for all of us."

[Felhammer]

Pasha smiles once again, he is obviously a kind-hearted soul. He whips out three waterskins and fills each with a half gallon of beer. "Back in my day, we called these Beerskins. Me thinks they'll serve you well on your long journey. Now then..." He calls over one of his wenches and tells her to man the bar. He motions for you to follow him into the basement. The stairs groan under the collective weight of three adventurers and the barkeep. The basement is cool and damp, filled with the fine musk of wood barrels cheap alcohol. A small table lies at the center of the basement. Pasha unfurls a makeshift map on top of the table.

"I had my informant scribble this map. I apologize for the condition, he was in quite the hurry to get out of town. In my down-time, I scribbled in the coat of arms for Evagrad and Zerna (I think it came out pretty good, no?). At any rate, this is the map. The red dots represent a common shepherd's trail. There are no roads past Zerna, so you'll have to figure out where the trail is exactly but... I'm sure you can figure it out. He mentioned turning south at the dead tree... I assume that's why the trail turns green. Like I said, he was in quite the hurry to rush out of town, so the map isn't perfect but... It will lead you in the right direction."

The Make-shift Map

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[Darth_Versity]

Theakalla had only been in the city a few weeks, but had used that time to carefully find out all the little rumors and intricacies she could by spending time in the various taverns. When the mention of Mithril was made by Pasha Petrov two days ago she decided to hang around waiting for someone to help her retrieve it, trading her singing for ale and lodging.

She finished her song and jump off the stage, making her way over to a group of possible applicants that were being led by Pasha down to the cellar. She followed silently, hiding between their very legs without them noticing and listened in.

[Felhammer]

Theakalla deftly maneuvers herself past the drunken rabble in the tavern and ably avoids the attention of the Bar Wench. She scuttles down the stairs with ease, avoiding each and every spot that creeks or groans (obviously this is not her first time delving into the basement...).

She listens in on the Pasha finish his deal, "So, this is the map. This is what you want. Now," He folds the map up and gently sets it into his back pocket. Let us discuss payment. I have given you the information, and that will cost you 30 crowns. The map... Will cost you an extra 10. Hardly a trifle compared to the wealth you shall reap from the cache of mithirl..."