Our heroes considered riding south to Barkshead to retrieve their goods from Declan’s father. For his part, Declan fiddled with his helmet and studiously pretended to ignore them. In his heart of hearts, he wished the adventure would never end.
Bastian was ambivalent. The smell of death still clung to his nostrils, and he wanted it purged by the open air. A journey south would do him good. But the Chapter House and its comforts loomed large in memory, and he needed the house masters’ advice.
Together, they voted to continue north. Declan silently thanked whatever gods watch the roads, and made a promise — which he promptly forgot — to thank Pelor as well.
[road. hard-packed dirt, a bit overgrown. a brief and inconsequential Worth-sighting.]
[encroaching swamp – Asphodel and Frank investigate. Frank flushes out a hulking, skinny figure slogging through the squishy earth.]
[incredibly exciting, taxing beastie attack. the horses scarper.]
[there go the horses]
[whither the maps?]
[crap.]
THE GUARD HOUSE
“Killed a beastie, have ye? Did ye get a license first?”
“A what?”
“A license. For pest control.”
The adventurers traded glances. Bastian shrugged. “Welcome to the city government.”
Ushered indoors to the shabby Precinct, Asphodel took up the quill and grimly shuffled the stack of offical-looking documents. She turned to Grignr. “Name?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Krog.”
“‘Krog’,” Asphodel repeated, and set to.
PELOR CHAPTER HOUSE
Leaving the precinct, sunset now, the adventurers took the road due north, away from the main road. In the distance, they noted an enormous stone structure — a tower? — that dwarfed the surrounding buildings. In the looming dusk, many of the houses scattered over the hills and mountains came alight like bright pinpoints. Nearer to them, the houses were darker.
Asphodel wrinkled her nose at a smell of… population. “Blech. What is that?”
Bastian smiled.
“The Vai. Welcome to the city by the river.”
[more description of the approaching city. population. lots of racial diversity. houses. laundry. then the sprawling bulk of the chapter house. greeted at the entrance by Ophia, the temple-minder.]
Within moments, a small, ancient human, craggy with age but surprisingly light on his feet, hurried out of the arched doorway to the stairs, hooting and hollering. “Hel-loo, hel-loo! Bastian is here, Bastian is here! Welcome brother Bastian!”
In a flurry of embraces, Bastian was welcomed back to his second home.
Grignr bent over the stooped old man. “Would that be Father Paolo?”
Paolo twinkled. “Oh no, no, nothing like that. We are all brothers here. Unless, you know, we are sisters, ey? Henh henh henh…”
One of the nearby brothers leaned closer to Grignr, smiling. “Paolo is the seniormost brother here.”
“Ah.”
[a young adept, hair shorn, comes to take the horses. he and Declan square off for a moment. they are of an age. the boy departs, effortlessly leading the horses. Declan watches him, fuming.]
[Asphodel points out that Grignr is still quite injured. a brother ushers him in to the temple, into an alcove. heals him. Grignr places the last of the first wheel of cheese reverently on the offering altar.]
Dinner was a festival’s worth of vegetables and small game, including, Asphodel noticed, a very familiar-looking, reverently-handled chunk of orange cheese. She looked through the door to the temple, thoughtfully. Grignr leaned in. “Here’s a home for the troll-gold.”
DAY TWO
[busy temple, aftermath of the troll attack. Sergeant Derek is there. Asphodel throws herself in to helping the herbalists. afterwards, Declan finds a vial of hallucinogens “from the garbage”. Bastian needs air. shows everyone the river.]
From the cobbled, hilly street overlooking the Vai, Bastian pointed out the sights of the river. Two floating bridges, massive wooden flats floating on enormous barrels, curved across the vast river and bobbed gently in the current. Guardsmen idled at the near end, talking to a few pretty ladies. In the distance, Grignr noted that the north end was also under guard.
Grignr hefted the small coins in his belt pouch.
Bastian followed his gaze, and nodded. “Tolls. Mostly levied on the slumming Lords and Ladies from the hills, but also preventing Southsiders from easy access to the North.”
Narrating briefly, Bastian pointed downriver to the dominant feature of the skyline: the almost overwhelming bulk of the bridge. It was a massive piece of engineering that dwarfed the city, rooted cleanly on the South side and reaching into the air about halfway across where it hung, seemingly unfinished, above parallel rows of massive columns sunk into the river.
“Some kind of disagreement between the local government and the Dwarven population.”
“Uh-huh.” Grignr, Asphodel, and Declan alike stared in wonder not only at the enormous bridge but at the sprawl of civilization that covered the north side of the river. Again they noticed, this time by comparison, the shabbiness of the loose timber and thatch houses on the south side.
Grignr nodded. “I think we’ve solved the mystery of the stopped caravans.”
Bastian trotted up to a passerby lugging a sack of some kind of grain, who replied loudly to his question. “Oxen Ale! Oxen Ale! Ayuh! Right ’round there!”
In moments, Bastian had proudly led his compatriots to the Axe and Nail public house.
“Mareval Amber?” The barkeep and his sculleries collapsed in laughter, handing over a few tankards of thin mead. “There’s yer Amber.”
[On their return, a meeting with Fael. Paolo’s story. Bastian gets debriefed.]