“Meet at The Old Toll House. Drellin’s Ferry,” the message concluded.

The giant owl delivered identical copies of that same parchment across Elsir Vale and then winged off to northwest, back toward the Blackfens, the ancestral home of the Tiri Kitor elves.

In truth, the remnants of The Trailblazers who trekked into the Wyrmsmoke Mountains three years ago were not entirely sure who might answer the call. But they knew they needed aid if they were going to pursue this endeavor any further.

So, reluctantly, they clandestinely marked the serpentine trail leading into the slot canyon and turned and headed back along the rock-choked wash that led out toward the Dawn Way. They passed through the goblinoid territory without incident, but not without their fair share of close calls. Several days later, the Wyrmsmokes were behind them, the Dawn Way, and Drellin's Ferry ahead

The last time they passed through Drellin’s Ferry, The Old Toll House was practically the only building in the entire village that escaped The Red Hand’s destruction. But that was only days (or was it weeks?) after The Battle of Brindol. There was no telling what state it, or the town, would be in now. So much time had passed...

As it turned out, Drellin’s Ferry recovered and the expedition found affairs almost back to pre-war conditions, if not a little less populous. New homes and workshops spread across the countryside and even that venerable establishment, The Old Bridge Inn, had been rebuilt and occupied a place of prominence in front of the village Green.

But they did not turn back at the doorstep of their long-pursued quarry and march back over one hundred miles to Drellin’s Ferry to admire its prosperity. They came to see who was prepared to end the Wyrmlord’s tyranny, once and for all.

***

The Old Toll House is the largest and sturdiest building in Drellin’s Ferry, one of the original structures built by the dwarves so long ago. Now, it serves as the town hall, courtroom, jail, and Town Guard headquarters. It seems Drellin’s Ferry got advance notice of the adventurers’ arrival, if the modest spread of food and drink in the reception hall serves as any indication.

A small gathering awaits, some familiar faces, and others not. Among the familiar, Town Speaker Wiston and Captain Anitah. Speaker Wiston has lost more hair and gone grayer since the adventurers last saw him, but otherwise appears hale. He graces the adventurers with a warm smile. Captain Anitah does not smile, but she never was much for outward displays of emotion. Still, she greets the adventurers warmly and seems happy to see them in her own, reserved fashion.

Among the throng, is a short, stocky, smartly dressed, and heavily powdered man with porcine features. The man, a court representative of the Lords and Ladies of Brindol, eventually identifies himself as Lord Morton Guidry. His demeanor is guarded and nervous throughout the meeting.

A handful of others are here as well, most bearing the rough look and demeanor of mercenaries and sell-swords, in addition to the usual persons of interest, hangers-on, and gossips one might expect.

Speaker Wiston raises a goblet and clears his throat to capture the attention of the assembly.

“Lord Guidry of Brindol, Friends, it is my great honor to introduce none other than Eoni, Sister of Avandra, and Dame of Brindol and Vaxfar Leaf, Hunter of Tiri Kitor. Both, Heroes of the Battle of Brindol!” This proclamation elicits a round of cheers. Even Lord Guidry claps heartily and cheers, his flabby jowls quivering in response. Then, not wanting to commit any social faux pas, the Speaker looks about the room for any other familiar faces or persons of note.

In particular, he looks among the crowd for Valthur, Marklin, Aldara, Taerix, and Sarah. Not seeing them, he sighs and after several moments, offers the floor to Eoni.

[Private to Eoni Daflin: Hope you don't mind me putting you on the spot, but seems like something Speaker Wiston would do. He doesn't know what you're going to say, just that you asked others to meet you here]

[Private to Sarah: I made the assumption Sarah would be skulking somewhere in the back of the crowd and wanted to give you the opportunity to make your appearance on your own terms (or not) befitting your character's persona.]



[Private to GM: When the commotion has subsided, Speaker Wiston notices someone skulking in the corner. He smiles broadly and gestures in that direction, “And what have we here?”
All eyes turn in that direction.
There, seated behind a clutch of onlookers, is a non-descript young woman wearing simple traveler’s clothes beneath a homespun cloak.
“Sarah, is that you?”]
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:17, Wed 22 July 2020.

The Sister of Avandra stood and surveyed those present, the wooden symbol of her faith ever present around her neck.  She'd tried to clean up for the occasion, but it was obvious she'd been on the road a long time.  She'd been hoping for familiar faces in the crowd, but found none other than those of Drellen's Ferry.

It had been a long time.  She did not begrudge them their peace.

For her, there was no peace.  Many had died under her command and she would not let their deaths be for naught.

"Thank you for this warm welcome," she began, nodding specifically to Mayor Wiston.  His familiar face had buoyed her upon their return.  Someone they'd been able to save.  The townsfolk the Trailbreakers had been able to save.  Though, from what she'd heard, Valthur's penchant of calling them the Trailblazers had taken a firmer hold in her absence.

"I'll keep this short and to the point," she continued, turning to address everyone present.  "We have found Azur Kul, leader of the Red Hand, but his stronghold is well fortified and protected by some of the most vile creatures you could imagine.

"We return these long miles to seek aid in confronting this threat before he returns to wreak destruction down on the Vale a second time.  Our troop suffered losses and great hardship in searching out his lair and now we need your aid in bringing this war to it's final conclusion."

She looked about the mercenaries and sellswords, and particularly Lord Guidry of Brindol whom she expected would provide the bulk of the supplies and troops for their final assault.  She knew Lord Jarnath would not let her down.

"The time for this to end is near and we will finish what the Red Hand began once and for all!"

She hadn't intended to end her speech with such force, but they were so near the end now.  So near.

Lord Guidry shuffles nervously as Eoni makes her plea. He allows a few moments of silence before interjecting.

"Well, on behalf of the Lords and Ladies of Brindol, allow me to be the first to welcome you back, with open arms," he says in a pompous tone with grand gestures, "back from your expedition."

"But really now," his tone changes, "that battle has already been won. There have been no goblin attacks since the War ended. And more's the better!" He says looking for shows of support among the crowd.

He goes on to explain that in the time since Eoni and Vaxfar have been gone, Brindol's attention has been focused on rebuilding what was lost and protecting the city's commerce interests from predatory Dennovarian trading costers. Further, there have been a few minor scuffles between the armies of Brindol and Dennovar along the Dawn Way and tensions are running high.

"Now is not the time to stir up new trouble, where none exists. Let sleeping Wyrmlords lie," he says with a hint of sarcasm.

"Besides, I have heard some, shall we say, very nice rumors, that the Wyrmlord was overthrown by his own kind and the goblins have gone back to killing and eating one another, as their kind are wont to do."

His chest had puffed up during this little speech and he now visibily breathes heavy from the effort.

"Let them eat their own!"

The Sister of Avandra felt blindsided by Lord Guidry's assertion that the threat had passed.  Even more so by Azur Kul's alleged fall from power.  She was just there and he couldn't be more wrong!

Biting back what she really wanted to say, Dame Daflin attempted to tackle these rumors head on.

"I assure you the rumors of the Wyrmlords demise are completely false," she began sternly.  "Any of my men, veteran soldiers of Brindol, will tell you they are far from beaten and just biding their time for the Vale to look away.

"I understand Brindol has many obligations to it's people, but even just a small force of a hundred men and supplies would see us through to the end.  Safeguarding the Vale against another attack from the Wyrmsmoke tribes for decades.

"Take the time to speak with my officers and hear for yourself what they've seen.  This is a decision not to be made on hearsay and rumor."

Lord Guidry holds his arms out expansively, palms facing outward, while addressing both Eoni and, more importantly, the assembly at large. "The Lord's Council is appreciative of the sacrifices these brave folk have made these past three years. It has not gone without notice, to be sure."

"And I am sure it was all to the good. But the time has come to hang up war banners. The War is over," he says.

Turning now to address the handful of soldiers who returned with Eoni, because that's all there is at this point. The detachment that marched out of Drellin's Ferry under the under the capable command of Lieutenant Untracht three years ago numbered thirty soldiers. Now, Lieutenant Untracht counted just seven soldiers in his ranks, all of them tired and weary of three years of hardship.

"Go home to your husbands, wives, and children," Lord Guidry implores. "You have all done your duty and will be justly rewarded for your service to our City."

Lieutenant Untracht is stoic throughout, but his soldiers now seem dejected, the mention of family reminding them of their sacrifice.

The tone of the room now becomes sullen. Even the mercenaries shift around uncomfortably.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:44, Thu 23 July 2020.

Biting back another retort, she looked about to consider her options.  Her men were weary and she held no malice for their desire to return home.  Many more were not so fortunate.  But she had to go back.  This had to end.

She now regretted having proposed a troop of one hundred to return.  Any of these mercenaries and sell-swords who might have stepped forward for adventure would think twice if they numbered only a small fraction of that hundred.

Nevertheless, she had to try.  Turning to those whose allegiance was bound to wealth and adventure, the Sister submitted her request.

"Even without the support of Brindol," she began, looking about the room, "I must return to finish what was started.  I cannot do so alone so I ask of any of you if you will join me in this journey.

"It will be a hard road with many obstacles and I cannot guarantee any rewards other than the Blessing of Avandra and the knowledge of your own good deeds.  Will any of you step forward to join me?"

Even if they all stepped forward, it would be far less than the troop three years prior.  How would such a meager band have any hope of success?

Three years had passed since the battle of Brindol and Vaxfar's face was no easier to behold.  His appearance had changed for those who had seen him at that battle as he now wore a seamless coat of elven chain mail that shimmered in the sun.  He sported a longbow and a quiver of arrows, a proficiency he had added in the intervening time.

He had continued his wanderlust as he patrolled the Wyrmsmoke mountains and had the happy chance of encountering his old friend and companion, Sister Eoni.  It was a delightful reunion, though short on celebration as he quickly understood the gravity of the task at hand:  searching for clues leading to Wyrmlord Kul's lair.

"Sister Eoni speaks the truth, after a relentless search, we found the Wyrmlord's lair, The Fane of Tiamat.  It would be foolish to ignore the evil and wait for it to amass strength and arrive at your doorstep in full force!  I too appreciate the warm welcome and the kind words but the celebration must wait.  Who will join *us*!" Vaxfar says with an imperceptible wink toward Eoni as he steps forward to stand beside her.

Several of the gathered mercenaries whisper disagreeably to one another. Neither Eoni or Vaxfar's impassioned but clear-eyed pleas has done much to win over the crowd.

A few start for the door, perhaps stopping at the banquet table to gather a handful of grapes or a slice of cheese on the way out.

OOC: Gotta love Basic D&D Retainer reaction rules!

Ovo had been standing in the back with the others who had traveled from far off Brindol. The dwarf had heard of Dame Daflin and the other Trailbreakers oft enough. Who from that place had not? That and Ovo knew Valthur as well. The other dwarf had passed Eoni's message on to Ovo. That the Dame needed help was clear enough. That Ovo needed coin for his pouch was clearer still. Seeing the other mercenaries beginning to leave brought a scowl to the dwarf's lips. If they had no stomach for it, good riddance! The dwarf would have enough work protecting his own hide much less that of cowards who would run at first blood.

The dwarf looked to his two companions and gave them a curt nod. Ovo had made up his mind. As for Dergan and Elam... it was up to them how and when they would pledge themselves. The Axe For Hire had fought alongside both and trusted them with his life. They may be mercenaries but they had honor about them as well. Ovo liked that... respected that. Once they had pledged their steel or spell to another, they were true to their word. To Ovo, that was all he had left... his word and his axe. Outcast and clanless was Ovo Goldenshield! Mayhaps when this business was over, the dwarf would have regained his honor, if not with the clans of Hammerfist then at least with the good folk of the vales.

Ovo pushed his way through the retreating sell-swords to stand before the Priestess of Avandra. The Goddess was the deity of luck was she not? Ovo grinned to himself. They would need that for certain... that and much more he was thinking.

"Dame Daflin!" Ovo said, his voice gruff as his manner. "The dwarfs have ah say'n... you don't find gold by lick'n the rock! Tis work ye have to do and hard work it is. I am used to such work. I came from Brindol meself but it twas Valthur Ironhelm who sent me. Me and two others but I'll nay speak for them. Only for meself, ye see. I pledge me axe to yer service and that o' Brindol as I've done before."

Ovo laid his axe at the Priestess' feet "Before ye say aye... ye should know I require ah equal share in any treasure gained. No more... no less. When I pledge meself n' me axe I will nay forsake such ah pledge nor any who will travel wi' us. Nay mind the rock lickers on their way out! For its better they leave now than later methinks. Well? Wot say ye Dame Dalfin? Have I n' me companions wasted our time n' me breath?"

"You have not," the Sister replied to gruff dwarf.  If Valthur had sent him, he was worth having at their side.  "If you take up your axe against Azur Kul and the Red Hand, you will have earned an equal share of his plunder."

Not quite buoyed by a single dwarf's acceptance of their plea, it at least proved their mission to recruit had not been entirely in vain.  Though still vexing at how easily such a dire threat could be imagined away.

Ovo gave Eoni a curt nod and stiff bow at the waist before picking up his axe. The stout dwarf with a cropped beard then moved to stand beside the scarred elf and Priestess. Ovo's coal-black eyes stared out into the crowd seeking those who had marched with him from Brindol. The dwarf hoped they too would pledge themselves. They were good men both... if man Elam truly was. Only time would tell but Ovo, like Eoni and Vaxfar, could hope could they not? It didn't cost them a copper to do so in Ovo's mind.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Fri 24 July 2020.

Pm[Private to DM Pawn: Looks like I sent the pm to the private thread accidentally ]

A voice sounding vaguely similar to Lord Guidry's rings out from within the throng of onlookers seated and standing near the plutarch.

"You have made a compelling case our hero’s of Brindol,  Sister Eoni and Vaxfar! All good men who are able, should join the cause to protect our realm.”

This sudden proclamation causes a few mercenaries to linger a bit longer, particularly as talk of equal shares are bandied about. Up until this point there have been no talk of remuneration, only of sacrifice and duty, neither of which meant much to men and women who plied their art in exchange for treasure.

A large lanky man at the rear of the hall, with his helm in his lap, long hair disheveled shakes his head, and mutters, "Ovo, why do you have to be first in line to be killed...".  He sighs but stands and moves to the exit door.

"Coward coward,coward..." he says to each who leaves. With a nod to the dwarf, "I'm in, you damn fool.  Coward, Coward, Ugly Coward.  Sissy......".

Ovo had convinced Elam to attend the ceremony, but he stood toward the back, away from people for the most part. It had become a comfortable and familiar place for him over the years. He listened intently to the veiled argument between the Lords and Lady. The warlock had never found the point of such eloquent speeches and etiquette. So much effort, which more often than not spoiled moods and resolved nothing.

Only the deaf hadn't heard the bards sing of the deeds of the Dame of Brindol and her companions. He had heard rumors that the Wyrmlord and the Red Hand were beginning to stir again had been circulating, and now he has heard it directly from the Dame herself. Only a fool wouldn't take her warning seriously. "Leave it to a pigheaded Lord to be the fool," he muttered to himself.

Elam wasn't surprised to see the dwarf elbow his way through the crowd and promise his axe to aid Sister Eoni. "Always trying to prove his honor, that one," Elam chided to the tall bearded warrior that still stood by his side. "I suppose we better look after him."

The hooded mage made his way through the crowd with much less elbowing as people caught glimpses of the sores on his hands. "Only a fool would ignore your warning, Sister. Denying the existence of danger does not negate the reality of the threat. If my dwarven companion here is willing to join your cause, I will follow." Elam was cognizant of the looks of doubt on some of the faces as they looked at his weak frame, and ragged attire. He raised both arms up in a V. "Yes, I am frail, but what I lack in physical strength, I offer you thrice over in intellect and great knowledge of the arcane. Elam N'Tari at your service." He finished with a bow. Still seeing the usual hesitation and focus on his exposed skin. "Fear not, this is merely the price I pay for such power. It is not contagious."

In reply to Dergan (msg # 14):

The dwarf chuckled at the warrior's words and gave the swordsman a jaunty wink "Tis ah dirty job, aye Dergan! Yet someone has to do it methinks!"

Ovo stood a bit taller if that was at all possible when the lanky fighter threw in his lot with Eoni and Vaxfar as well. Then Elam came forth. Most dwarfs did not put their trust in magic or spells. Steel was consistent as any sane man would tell you but Ovo did not doubt that magic had its place. Nor did he doubt Elam, the man who could use it and use it well. When Elam also joined the venture, Ovo gave him a nod and wink. The dwarf then looked between Vaxfar and Eoni with a smile plastered upon his face.

"Ye should take them up on their offer methinks. Nay ah rock licker betwixt the two n' that be true as steel M'lady... n' elf."

Dame Daflin tried not to stare at the tattered arcanist.  He was a far cry from their former sorceress, but it seemed he was known by the dwarf as well.  So she resisted the urge to finger the wooden amulet about her neck to test whether he was truly living or dead.

"We thank you for your aid in our endeavor and you are welcome to join," she said to the disheveled figure with a bow of her head.  "The arcane will be sorely needed on the road ahead."

She glanced in the direction of Lord Guidry in an effort to cover her verbal gaff and see if perhaps she could spot the source of this seeming about face in the man's attitude.  She'd thought he was against their endeavor, but perhaps it was only Brindol's role in the fight that concerned him.  Without cost to Brindol, he appeared willing to do what he could.

Looking about, the Sister hoped the Lord's pronouncement might sway a few more.  She couldn't hear, but it looked as though a tall man with the beard of a dwarf worked to stem the tide of departure with his own words near the exit.  She thought he might be the other the dwarf proposed would join them as well.

A handful of mercenaries remain, one of which, a brawny woman with short, frizzy fiery red hair, bellows out, "That's all well and good, but you never mentioned anything about wages or shares for that matter. Can't speak for the others here, but I aint getting any younger and there aint much longevity in this line of work."

A small chorus of chuckles breaks out among the gathered, followed by knowing nods and verbal shows of support.

"Equal shares for everyone," Dame Daflin replied to the woman.  She and Vaxfar hadn't really discussed this, but it's how they'd always done it.  Though there was that time they hired on some men before the war started.  Even though she couldn't remember their names, she hoped they'd made it through all right.

"And we'll take care of supplies," she added, wondering if there were any pack or riding animals available nearby.  They'd only just arrived themselves and hadn't had a chance to get the lay of the land after three years.  Or even if the gold she'd banked in Brindol would be available here.

[Private to DM Pawn: Eoni has a lot of gold not spent after the Battle of Brindol that she certainly wasn't carrying around these past three years.  If she couldn't bank it in Brindol, she would have compacted it into jewelry.  It may be in Brindol and unavailable in a useful timeframe, or she could have lost the jewelry in the past three years while making that ill advised river crossing.]

The tall warrior grows bored poking fun at those leaving and puts his helmet on and moves down nearer to the front, sitting and leaning back to better watch and hear what goes on.

He frowns for a moment, looking at that wizard.  He hopes the man was speaking true and it was not something he could catch.  He had been sitting quite close earlier.  Maybe it was time for his weekly bath when this was resolved.