"So what are we going to tell him?"

Rissa asked as they were settling down around a table.

"Just show him the letter and claim we're pretty sure it was found in the Glade?"

Lucien takes his traditional seat with his back to a wall and begins to deal cards to anyone who will play. The elf has once again put on the guise of carefree joviality that he usually wears when the party is in town. "I think saying we dug the letter out the Glade is a good start. I don't think there's much doubt that was the Glade. Given what we know about the Count though, he may not be incredibly forthcoming with information. If we managed to get his son on his own, the young man might tell us more. That's assuming either of them know more than we do of course."

"That was going to be my suggestion, too," Lathan nods. "The younger Parlfray seems eager to share what he knows about the region and its history, though, based on our previous experience, he'll probably want to come with us. His father wasn't too keen on that before, so we'll have to tread carefully."

"Works for me."

Rissa said, though her features looked troubled. She'd been spending more and more time staring at the orb which was the wellspring to both of her magics, the light and the dark, as their journey back from the glade had progressed.

"So y'just sign here... right, that'll do it!  Make sure y'have this delivered 'fore th'month's end.  Brewmaster Aldin will be handlin' th'fulfillment schedule from here on out."

Dealing with business owners and tavern masters wasn't exactly Gazira's forte, to say the least.  She always felt she lacked the easy-talking nature her Uncle bore when he'd chat up the head of an inn to convince them to stock Oakbarrel brew.  No matter how many times she accompanied him or the others on jobs, it never failed to impress her how deftly they talked their way into good graces.  But such socializing was a failing on her part and she was frankly more comfortable unloading the barrels, handling inventory, and otherwise not having to face crowds.  Every time she tried to help on a sale it ended with her uncles having to smooth over her mistakes.  But simply handling contracts that had already been agreed upon?  That, she could do.  The Hound and Tails was a place of particular importance to her, though she was uncertain as to why.

She'd seen the telling signs appear amid the foam in each brew she drank, felt the guiding hand of Hanseath lead her attention on the distribution maps.  Though Gazira didn't quite understand it, her family urged her to pay heed to those subtle gestures.  Hanseath had reached out to her before and she was loathe to ignore his divine will.  Plus she could fulfill a necessary bit of contract upkeep at the Hound and Tails to keep delivery of their casks going steady for the rest of the year, so it was a win-win situation as far as the Oakbarrel clan was concerned.

With her work done, the towering Half-Orc woman sighed and leaned herself back against a suitable support column beside the bar.  She wasn't exactly certain who or what she was looking for, but there was always one way to find out.  As she and the tavern master had shared a tankard over business dealings, she plucked her own up - a rather nicely crafted item emblazoned with a cheery, grinning Dwarven face on its side - and drank deeply of the rich lager her family brewed.  The familiar tickle soothed her worries as she gulped it down and, with the last dredges of foam left to seep over the translucent underside of the tankard, Gazira found sight of a particular table and its patrons framed in the glass bottom.

"Well, seems as likely as any..." she muttered to herself.  With a quick request for a full round of drinks - Oakbarrel lager, of course - Gazira gathered the tankards in both fists by their handles and steeled her nerves as she strode across to the Party's table.  The lot of them might have thought the Hound and Tails had hired a new waitress - albeit one of particularly mighty stature - as the Half-Orc arrived in a simple peasant dress with refreshments in hand.

"Now here's a gaggle what looks like they've been walkin' too long!  Y'folk look in need of a quality drink.  Have a round of Oakbarrel, on me." Gazira tried to be jovial as she grinned a broad, tusked smile and passed out the tankards around the table.  "What brings y'lot in off th'road?"

Lucien's eyes narrow suspiciously for the briefest moment at the approaching half-orc, but by the time she arrives with her armful of drinks, his broad grin is firmly fixed in place once again. "You're too kind stranger, too kind! I won't say no to a free drink. 'Oakbarrel' did you say? Is that a special kind of drink?" He takes in details of this newcomer as he deflects the questions.

"Work, when we can find it."

Rissa answered.  Clearly a Tiefling, her ears and horns were heavily pierced and adorned with jewelry and rings, with some trinkets of real value mixed in among the cheap costume jewelry.  The studded leather armor she wore looked new, and completely untouched by claw or blade, though lacking the embellishments that the upper classes might bear.  It looks functional, a dull grey with black studs at regular intervals.  A knife rested at each hip, though those appeared to be her only visible weapons.  Under the leathers she wore simple traveler's clothes, the heavy backpack over her shoulders and good knee high boots on her feet making it clear that she is ready to travel.

"The violent sort, it seems, though  under Count Palfrey's jurisdiction.  We may look a little rough around the edges..."

She gestured towards their motley assortment, particularly the dragonborn and herself.

"... and I'll admit it's been a fair bit of dredging through the muck and getting bit on by wolves and goblins and zombies and all other manner of nasty creatures.  But it's all for the greater good, eh?"

Her tone of voice made it abundantly clear she wasn't taking herself that seriously.

"You got a name, good master Oakbarrel?  I am Rissa Twiceborn, and these are my companions."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:49, Thu 03 Jan 2019.

The Half-Orc blanched openly at Lucien's question - for a moment her expression was a shift between shock that he wasn't aware and outrage that he even ask such - though the gentle coaching of her uncle rang silently in her ear.  Reputation was nothing in and of itself, he taught her, and a lack thereof was just an opportunity to advertise.  Thus Gazira put on her best grin as she slid a full mug over to Elven fellow.

"Aye, Oakbarrel's special alright!  Ain't none better this side of th'Dalelands, and I'd wager we're just fine on th'other side of 'em too.  This lovely lager is one of our more popular brews, though we're best known for our whisky and bourbon.  Th'finest Dwarven craft there is, swear on m'tusks." she chimed perhaps a bit too loudly.  When asked for her name, the Half-Orc beamed and slapped her tummy with an open palm - a gesture that produced a sound rather akin to smacking a solid wall.  "Gazira Oakbarrel, at y'service.  And... well, as th'case may be, that may be literal."

Though she came with good cheer and even better drinks, it seemed the stranger had something more in mind than shelling samples of her family wares.  At first she moved to lean a palm onto the back of an available chair, though as the furnishing creaked and nearly buckled under her weight she quickly - though awkwardly - corrected herself to stand on her own instead.  "Y'fine folk wouldn't happen t'be lookin' for a helpin' hand now, would ya?  See, I've been... well, let's say given some vague direction 'bout makin' myself useful t'folk what need it.  Beyond just fillin' 'em with good booze, as it is.  And near as I can figure it's pointed me right here into your good graces."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:42, Thu 03 Jan 2019.

Natural suspicion and caution wars with the need to refill the depleted ranks behind Lucien's eyes. He looks over his companions briefly, gauging their reactions to the offer of help. "As Rissa says, our line of work is a little more dangerous than delivering booze. We wouldn't ask you to put yourself in harms way." Though he speaks cheerfully, there is the hint of something akin to a challenge in Lucien's words as though he is himself unsure of whether or not to accept the offer of assistance.

Lathan watches Gazira carefully. He accepts a mug but doesn't drink from it until he sees her and at least one of his companions do so first.

"Aye, we could always use a skilled companion," he says. "But we tend to be involved in dangerous work, so I for one would prefer that those skills be more useful than brewing strong drinks.

"By the way, how is it that one such as yourself has the surname 'Oakbarrel?' That sounds more like a dwarven name to me."

The gentle refusals on the grounds of a civilian's well-being didn't dissuade Gazira one bit.  In fact, they only served to bolster her view of the strangers in that they actually cared enough to warn someone away from their work purely out of concern and need for those of useful skills.  A good sign indeed - a team was defined by its quality and she found such consideration reassuring.

"Aye, as true a Dwarven name as they come.  Th'Oakbarrel clan stretches back over thirty generations of proud brewmasters.  Shows all th'goodness in their  hearts that they'd see fit t'adopt me back when I was nothin' but a wastrel child askin' t'haul casks for copper pieces.  Never had a family of m'own before them and I can't imagine a better one after." there was a decided measure of warmth in the woman's tone as she spoke of her family.  Clearly the lack of a blood relation didn't diminish her fondness of her adoptive Dwarven kin even a hint.

"T'be full honest, I ain't much a crafter m'self.  Still learnin' th'ropes.  Make m'self useful for m'kin most by haulin' th'heavy stuff, runnin' deliveries, and persuadin' troublemakers t're-evaluate their decisions.  Folk don't always act proper where expensive spirits are involved." From the way the Half-Orc squared her shoulders and tensed herself to the point that her dress sleeves' seams creaked with the struggle to contain her muscles, it was pretty obvious her methods of "persuasion" were more action than words.  "M'delivery here is... well, m'last one for some time, done more as a favor than anythin'.  Like I said - I've been given an urgin' t'offer m'services.  I'm strong, tougher than most, and got th'blessin' of Hanseath warmin' m'veins.  Better at wreckin' folk than healin' em, but I can do both all th'same."

Even as she spoke to try and sell her skills, the confidence in her voice began to waver bit by bit.  An edge of desperation seeped through instead as she feared she would lose an opportunity from her own social clumsiness.  "Ah... I ain't scared of none of th'critters y'mentioned, sure as all else.  A-and I got m'own horse, so y'don't have t'worry 'bout me slowin' th'group down!  I can cook, and haul supplies, and don't mind cleanin' none." Her offers turned more mundane as she tried to find ways to make herself appealing to each of the seated party members.  "Just... just give me a shot, yea?  Lemme tag along and if I don't make m'self proper useful, y'can toss me off like last night's wash.  Ain't no harm in that, yea?  Please?"

Lucien's friendly smile never falters during the half-orc's listing of her abilities. Eventually, as she goes on he holds up a hand to ask her to relent. "Alright, alright, you can handle yourself. No offense intended I'm sure. I think we might be willing to give a newcomer a shot as long as you carry your own weight. What do the rest of you think?" His long experience of reading people tells him that this strange woman's intentions are honest. He gives a small nod to the others as he makes eye contact.

As he leans back in his chair again, he starts to shuffle his deck of cards. "We're planning to head on to the Count's keep in the morning. We'll resupply and then head off."

"I like dwarves fine enough."

Volani said offhandedly as he studied his spellbook, clearly not paying much attention.

Lathan nods at Gazira. "Fair enough. You're welcome to join our party."

Lathan spends the rest of the evening sitting with his companions, remaining mostly quiet and serious. As he only needs four hours of rest, he is one of the last to retire and one of the first up.

He can be found sitting outside the inn, sharpening his swords and checking his other equipment in the early morning light. Once everyone is ready to go, he slings his backpack over his shoulders and starts walking in the direction of Parlfray Keep.

"I'm a stray that only got picked up a few weeks ago.  Would be spitting in the face o' all that's fair and just if I tried to convince the others to turn you away, especially as you've given me no reason to.  Welcome."

Rissa borrowed some of her share to secure some supplies, twenty gold to be exact, though what she did with it remained a mystery.

"Keep me healec and don't get yourself killed, anf and you've got my vote." the armored dragonborn says, not bothering to look up from his book.... Though notably, he had gladly accepted the ale and drank deeply.

In the morning, Lucien joins the others once the sun is fully risen and the town in awake. He returns from the direction of Tauster's house with a strange smell lingering around his pack. Once the group is gathered, he follows Lathan towards the keep.

Her supplies acquired, Rissa joined the others.

The journey to Parlfray's Keep takes about three hours. When the party arrives, a servant hurries to fetch Count Sandior Parlfray for them. As they wait, the count's son Lyntern approaches them. "Good morning! It's been a while! Where have you been?" he asks with a cheerful smile.

Keeping one eye on the exit the servant took to fetch the Count and an ear perked for his return, Lucien takes a conspiratorial tone with Lyntern. "We took a trip out to the Hardlow Woods actually. We wanted to see the Gleaming Glade for ourselves. We'd heard a bit about the region's history and legends from a few of the locals and wanted to see what truth there was to it." He draws the silver scroll case from one of his many pockets and begins to turn it in his hands absent mindedly as he watches the young man's reaction.

Lyntern's eyes light up when Lucien speaks of the Gleaming Glade and displays the silver scroll case. "And...? What did you find? Did you find the Gleaming Glade?" he asks eagerly.

Terminax grunts, "Place could use a good blessing. Haunted by undead, and the surrounding area has a gobline infestation. Not exactly a place to go on holiday." he says seriously.

Lucien nods gravely in response to Terminax's words. "It did live up to the name though. You can't say it didn't gleam. At least at night." He makes a contemplative expression. "I think that place holds more mysteries still, but it revealed some of them to us." Rather than revealing anymore right away, he tilts his head to listen for the count and poses a question. "Tell us, what do you know about you ancestor? The one who is connected to the legends."

"Wow! So the stories about him are true?" Lyntern asks, barely containing his excitement. "I've heard or read most of the tales but my father always said there was no truth to them. I always knew..."

"Lyntern!" Count Parlfray calls out as he comes around a corner, followed by two guards and a servant. "What did I tell you about bothering them? They have more important things to deal with. Be on your way now." He waves Lyntern away. The young man frowns and turns to leave, grumbling under his breath. "Kids..." Count Parlfray says, shaking his head. "Now, what news do you bring?"

"We think we found the glade."

Rissa said, her first time speaking to the Duke.  She sounded a little unsure of herself, and looked to the others for support.

"We found the area invested with goblins.  Those we found we slew.  Eventually we came upon a place that matched the description we were given, though in truth it was hard to tell.  Undead dwelt beneath the muck, and arose to drag us under.  We repelled them, no, we destroyed them.  When we searched the bodies, we found this."

She gestured towards the scroll case.

"We thought it best to bring it to show you."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:20, Tue 15 Jan 2019.