Rather than start out approx 10-12 more topics, I’ll write my story into a single thread. Easier that way so I won’t flog the whole forum with them.
Anyways. Chapter 11, if you will.
Chapter 11: “Good night, Mr Dermin!”
The sheriff stared at the young man with respect and suspicion at the same time; He had encountered- yet defeated the bad of Cor Yemilb thieves, and came out alive. The fact he was a magicuser was a matter of suspicion to him, for there were times when a band magicusers came to the town and torched the whole place thanks to a very plentiful amount of alcohol.
“Uhh, it was mostly our duty, Mr. Uhhh…?” Maba asked. The sheriff got up from his chair and offered a hand to shake: “Mizern. Kien Mizern. A humble follower of the god of roads. And I’ve heard rumors you are of noble heritage, mr Dermin…”, Kien was about to ask, but Maba interrupted politely: “Only in the manner of name. A foul necromancer has pillaged my homeland and killed my family in the process, but I ask you to keep this to yourself. If anyone asks, just tell them my name is but a coincidental one.”
Kien nodded. “If ye ever need a humble cleric’s help, be the matter purely clerical matter of law, or a matter of banishing the necromancer’s minions to a grave, do not hesitate to ask. My own father spoke of your family’s exploits greatly, albeit he might have been exaggerating slightly. Afterall, they are legends since few know you still carry the Dermin name.” “I thank you for the offer. May they stay as legends until justice has been brought out. The necromancer surely knows I’m alive, I’m sure of it.”
Kien examined some of his scrolls and papers on his table, and brought out a wanted notice. He read a few lines to himself, and then read out aloud: “For the capture of a member of the Cor Yemilb band, will the Order of Kuntz-Galadriel Clergy pay a reward of 300 gold coins per head. Preferably alive.” Maba shrugged, and told him how they found a small fortune in the thieves’ pockets already. “Strange”, Kien muttered. “If that’s the case, they must have been recently hired. Their band has been witnessed to accept large sums of money earlier, but none is ever found as an evidence payment to possible assassinations and such. their treasury may be in their own hideout, I’m sure of it.”
“My band can surely help after we have escorted our girl to Galadriel.”, Maba offered. “Ah, yes. I hear the girl is a… drow? There must be a matter of utter importance that one is allowed to travel with you!”, Kien remembered. “Yeah. Poor girl has been hunted for all her life. We’re to get her to a safe place where her curse might finally cease.”, Maba told. “A noble cause it is, my friend. Now, may I ask you to join your companions? I have some paperwork to do until I can properly prosecute the thieves you brought.”, Kien asked.
“Very well, have a pleasant evening, Mr. Mizern.”, Maba bowed. “Same to ye aswell, Dermin. May Tymora place her smile on ye!”, the cleric-sheriff bode.
The town of Kuntz was a chilly place during the night, just like Maba remembered from his previous trips there. During the day, it was a pleasantly warm town with a breeze that refreshed both mind and body. Homever, as the moon shone between the silver clouds, he noticed how his breath turned into fine mist before evaporating away in the frost of the night. (“Better get going. Don’t wanna catch a cold before the end of the trip.”), he thought to himself. The Inn was like a lighthouse in the middle of the town, with an occasional tune of the harp flowing out. As he approached the doors, he noticed the carriage he came to the town neatly parked in the back of the alley. As he was about to open the large wooden door, he thought he heard something oddly familiar above him. He shrugged and opened the door.
He was greeted with immediate haste: “Evening to you, sir Dermin. A pearl to you. Your companions have booked you in as they came- you can still meet them at the dinner table, provided they are still enjoying their meals. Here, let me take that cloak of yours…”, the innkeeper practically attacked him. (“Good old Zoliphian and her blessed, yet forked tongue. Works miracles whenever we’re out of town.”)
“Here is your key. We’re terribly sorry about your wounded companion, so we arranged a wakeup at noon to suit your needs.”, the man kept going. Maba grabbed the key and headed upstairs. he remembered the peasant rooms being on the first floor, so he though that Zoliphian had booked a bit more luxurious suite. He checked his key. (“C3?? Only nobility can afford these rates… Oh yeah. We got a nice trinket from the bandits. Oh well. Gar can use the rest, like all of us…” ), he thought to himself. Down went the second floor. (“Whoa. Either someone just cast me to a dragon’s halls of gold, or this is the noble accomodations floor. Sure beats the Merchant suites I used to live in…”)
He flipped the key around his arms and noticed how there were only two rooms… and both of their doors were open. The other was empty, but he recognized his own bags inside, and then he peered into the other. There lied Gar on a big single bed, with Kat checking out his wound. Next to him were two smaller beds, with Tiria already far into dreamland on the right side of Gar’s bed.
Kat noticed him, and got up from fixing Gar’s shoulder. “Oh, hi Mabat. I’m gonna hit the sack as soon as I’ve fixed up these stitches… twitches Darn migraine…”, Kat told Maba.
“I’m sleeping with…”, he started. “Zol. Last time we two were on a trip, she went ‘girl-to-girl talk’ mode after several mugs of ale. I’m not gonna repeat that mistake. Besides, she might wake her nods at Tiria up, so YOU’LL sleep in the same room with her!”, Kat interrupted. Maba whispered in a startled state: “Aww… better go eat soon or I’ll face the full wrath of her drunked art of ranting…”
He descended the stairs and walked into the dining hall. (“Nuts. Too late”), he thought to himself as Zol was there, with several jugs of wine accompanying here. This midnight snack was going to take a moment to finish…