Virius Tesh had traveled to Hommlet from the neighboring Duchy of Urnst.  A barge on the Nyr Dyv had gotten him and his mount as far as Dyvers, and then the trade road carried him south past Sobanwych.  While the journey hadn't been overlong, it was still the farthest afield the amateur historian had ever traveled.

Barely past his seventeenth nameday, the young wizard could not be considered worldly.  Not unless the worlds in question were books.  What he lacked in experience, he made up for in research and learned study.  Of legends, long buried in musty tomes of forgotten lore.  In sagas yet to be translated from ancient volumes.  Tales of a mythic age and the epic collapses of bygone kingdoms.

Still, for all of his trepidation, Virius had been exhilarated when chosen to undertake the journey on the behalf of his academic superiors — the mages of the Wizardholme of Urnst.  Though he didn't know the late Elkiar Rusman personally — as an amateur historian of the region — Virius was passing familiar with the storied exploits of the man and his band of Gnarleymen.

It was primarily for this reason that he had been chosen to represent his school, the Wizardholme of Urnst, and its chief sorcerous councilor, the archmage Warnes Starcoat (who sadly was embroiled in courtly business to attend the funeral).

After seeing his horse stabled and placing his belongings in his room, Virius joined the revelers in the main hall of the tavern.  He carried himself through the merriment with a certain stiffness, a formal grace that one might mistake for standoffishness.  After acquiring a mug of a strong herbal tea from Ostler's wife, Glora, the fair-skinned suel approached Spugnoir, and, after introducing himself ... took a seat.

"Well met, good Spugnoir." Virius said, explaining how he had come to undertake this journey.

"Did you know Rusman well before he passed?"  He inquired.  "Sadly, I did not."

Spugnoir gives a nod. "I've only heard stories, I wish I would have known him and the Gnarleymen, maybe if they had been around, what happened to me wouldn't have. I live north of here in the town of Etterboek, But tragedy struck while I was traveling between the two towns." Spugnoir tone takes a dark depressing sound to it. "I lost my spellbook, a band of goblins ambushed me..After knocking me unconscious they took the book." he pauses. "They even killed my companion." you can see that he is reminiscing over something lost, he shakes his head in depressed disappointment. "I'm not sure what to do now, my Master recently passed, and it was his book that I inherited, and the goblins they have it now, and I don't even know why, its not like they could read it." He starts to get angered the more he speaks.

Korkas looked up from the table to examine once again the half-orc and the other who stood with him as his attention was drawn to the man walking through the front door and getting a tea. Studying him a moment he turned back to the halflings "Luck, like your daddy had all those years ago... Deal em." As he prepares to play again
This message was last edited by the player at 01:00, Sat 11 May 2019.

Virius' eyes widened in shock as Spugnoir relayed his tale.  For a wizard to lose his spell book was a drastic thing indeed ... and to uncivilized brutes such as goblins at that!  To the layman, it was as serious as the loss of a hand, or an eye.

A life's work, all that one was — or hoped to be — gone in a dreadful instant.  A loss like this would mar this man's life like a vicious bookmark, an ugly scarred wound upon the tale of his life.  There was only the before, and the after.  Everything now would be different.

The envoy paused for a moment, utterly speechless, as the game of three-dragon ante began to get animated.  Though he searched for the words — any words — that might weaken the loss so dearly felt ... Virius knew that it was a losing proposition.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:18, Sat 11 May 2019.

The Halfling thinks that he has this in the bag, he shuffles, and deals the cards, not knowing that folly is about to happen. The Dwarf is able to do a flick of the hand and produce a hidden card. Furnok doesn't notice the rouse and bets heavily on this pot. And the outcome is bad for him. When the Dwarf wins and calls Three Dragon Ante, Furnok stands up on the chair looking down at the table. "NO!, How did I loose!." He stomps his foot and kicks the flagon of ale off the table. The noise and his outburst cause everyone to turn their attentions towards the middle of the room, and to the Halfling. "You got me Dwarf!, I see how it is." his eyes narrow as he leaps from the chair and walks off towards the bar.

[ Award yourself 5 Gold ]

"Pardon me, Father."

Althiöf rose from his chair, and ambled over to the gambling table, as there seemed to be much commotion.  As five gold pieces changed hands, he could see that they were playing for some serious stakes.

"How goes the game?"  He then mumbled something else. 

He looked to see if the serving girl was on her way back yet.

Korkas smiles as he gathers up his gold and places them in a pouch he keeps hidden within the folds of his clothes. He rose, turning towards the other dwarf a grin on his face

He motioned his head towards Virius
Korkas wandered over to the pair, Virius and Spugonior, his smell reaching them before he does "Pay good, if it gets returned?" he asks directly towards Spugonior.


OOC: Slight edit as the other dwarf approached as I made my post.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:49, Sat 11 May 2019.

Althiöf nodded, and then offered a slim smile to the halfling, before following the other dwarf.

Spugonior looks up to the Dwarf and quickly reaches up and covers his nose. "Awuf, Sorry." The Wizard tries to play it off that its not bothering him, but his eyes start to water. "Pay, for someone to return my book, I lost everything, they took everything from me, I don't have anything to my name." he lowers his voice and says to the dwarves. "I'm just hear for the free food and drink for the funeral, I didn't even know the Ranger who died." he says with a rather helpless look upon his face. "I really wish I could pay for someone to get my book back, and take care of those goblins who did this to me, but I have nothing." he says, his voice breaking their at the end.

Korkas stands there debating with himself for a minute as he counts a couple things on his fingers and then he addresses Spugonior

"Can't speak for the others, but for Elkiar's memory, I'll see what I can do. Know where the Goblins reside?"

When the dwarves came over Virius was pleasantly surprised to hear that the one that had been gambling was of a helpful mind.  As he had spent his formative years at Wizardholme, the young wizard hadn't had the chance to lay claim to many dealings with the mountain-dwelling folk.  He knew that they were by-and-large a brave and proud people ... and incredibly non-magical.

Tesh inclined his head in greeting and introduced himself to the dwarves (who he assumed were brothers).

"My fellow mage here has been grievously offended by these verminous louts."  Resting a reassuring hand on Spugnoir's shoulder, he continued.  "To a wizard, that book is worth far more than coin."

"I couldn't agree more about honoring Rusman's legacy.  What better way to remember a friend than to continue his works?  My master has often regaled me of the times he found himself in the Gnarleymen's debt."

At that moment all of Virius' training — the countless pain-staking hours spent studying runes, the endless somatic exercises and memorization of esoteric formulae — it all seemed to be building to this moment.  For why else had he become a wizard, if not to shape the world as he saw fit?  Although the young man was not worldly, and hadn't set out on any adventures before ... he felt within himself a rush of pride, of adrenaline coursing through his veins at the very prospect of rendering aid to a scholarly brother in his hour of need.

"Should you find enough swords to take up this journey, I would be a part of this rescue."  He said bluntly, addressing the dwarves, as if his acceptance were a foregone conclusion.

"Some magical talents may yet prove useful in the recovery of this tome."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:24, Sat 11 May 2019.

Althiöf was more than surprised by this tall one's words.  "Now, I came here for a funeral.  And, aye, I can imagine losing a book of spells might be traumatic, but we know (or at least I know) nothing about this young man."  He turned to Spugnoir, "No offense intended."

"Where were you when this happened?  Were you alone, or were you in a party of folk?  How many goblins were there?  Did the goblins have spellcasters?  Don't you have any spells still memorized?  Could the goblins already have given/traded/sold your book to larger and stronger creatures?  How many days ago did this happen?"

Spugonior looks to the Dwarf that offers his assistance. "Just north of Deklo Grove, between the grove and Emridy Meadows, I was traveling the path south from Verbobonc when they ambushed me. When I woke up I could see the trail of my broken items leading into the nearby forest." he says. With the two dwarves and now Virius interesting in returning the book to him, Spugonior starts to look like their might be hope. His demeanor changes and he perks up a little. Looking to Althiöf Spugonior answers most of his questions. "It was just me and Jeremiah, When they ambushed me I saw around six of them before I was knocked out. I'm surprised they didn't kill me, but Jeremiah wasn't as lucky, when I woke up I found that they had smashed him with a rock. I'm still feeling the weakness from loosing him." Spugonior says. "I didn't see any spellcasters, it looked more like a scouting party, light armor and small weapons." he says. "This happened yesterday morning. When I woke up I was able to make it to Hommlet and Ostler has been kind enough to let me rest here in the Inn, they think I'm here for the funeral." he says in a whisper.

Vesta returns to the common room with a serving tray and a few small cups and a large flagon in the middle. She sets it down next to Althiöf. "Here you go sir, these are a selection of different brews by Brewmeister Sevensong. Here we have a Welcome Wench Ale, Sevensong told us we could name it. I've also added a few shots of his other concoctions. Here is a Blackened Beer, be watchful of it though, its very thick." she says with a giggle. "Also their is Cuthberts Cudgeler, Distilled whiskey. It was requested by Canoness Y'dey of the Church, she could likely outdrink many in this Inn." she says. "Is there anything else I can get the table, Will you be eating dinner here in the Inn tonight, we have a lamb mutton that is about to come out of the oven, along with some bread and local vegetables." she asks.

"Ah, lass, you have my thanks for being so generous in your selection.  You're now my favorite, here at the inn."

He moved slightly to the side, and took the flagon in his left hand.  With his right hand, he grasped the small cups one at a time.  Before tasting each, he examined and observed each beverage as if it was a birthday present.  First he swirled it in its cup slowly, then he would sample its aroma, before finally tasting each cup in turn.  The dwarf thought that each cup's contents were delightful, and his countenance bespoke his reactions.

Finally, he performed the same ritual upon the contents of the flagon before sampling it as well.  "Ah, this is quite special."

Remembering he was not alone, but keeping the flagon in hand, he turned back to Spugnoir.  "That must be at least a couple hours down the road, and likely a couple more hours to find their lair.  Without a good tracker, I don't see how this will be that successful.  And you say that only a scouting party met you, so I wonder how many will be in their lair."

"Perhaps we should tell the Gnarleymen and one of them could lead us?"  Virius suggested, becoming more and more enamored with the idea of retrieving a fellow wizard's lost property.

"They know these lands better than all of us combined, and they would fain see their homelands clear of such thuggery."

Spugonior nods. "I am no tracker, I could accompany you but I fear that my being there would just be a burden without my spells, when I lost Jeremiah it took a major toll, and I haven't felt well since." he says. "I do not know any of the Gnarleymen, but if this is a funeral for one of them, I'm sure some of them will be around." he adds.

Virius would understand that Spugonior is talking about loosing a Familiar, Jeremiah being his Familiar and it having died, thus Spugonior loosing a point of Constitution and having had made a system shock check, which could have killed him.

"Still worth checking out. Might get lucky" Korkas says with a smirk "But we could look for a tracker."

A mage losing his familiar was a grave thing indeed.  Virius knew from his magical studies that when a sorcerer bound himself to a familiar ... he used a portion of his own life essence to do so.

When Jeremiah died, in other words, a little piece of Spugnoir died with him.

"That settles it."  Tesh said, nodding agreement with Korkas.  "If we need a tracker, then we shall see if there are any here."

He rose from his seat and raised his mug as if to make a toast.

" 'Ware and were, friends!"  He called out in a strong, clear voice, using the traditional greeting of the Gnarley Rangers.  He rested a hand on Spugnoir's shoulder.

"A small band of goblins has crept too close to these civilized lands, waylaying this good man yesterday as he journeyed past the Deklo Grove."

"My friends and I,"  Here, a hand to indicate the pair of dwarves.  "Would see these vermin dispatched, and this gentleman's property returned.  Are there any among you that could act as guide?  We possess the will, but lack the knowledge of the area to see such a deed through on our own."

Ostler looks up from the bar and listens to Virius make his speech, knowing what had already happen to Spugonior, he frowns and shakes his head. "Anyone that goes with them, I'll give ten gold for every Goblin you kill." he says, and then thinks about it for a moment. "Up too twenty!" he quickly adds. Gloria his wife whom is sitting over near the bar knitting looks at her husband and smiles. A few of the other patrons listen to what Virius says but none of them look all that interested. The Halfling had already started playing another game of cards with the Half-Orc who wasn't paying attention to anything except for his hand. The rest of the Tavern seemed preoccupied with the merriment of the evening. The Baklunish looked to be thinking about saying something for a moment and then changes his mind. He goes back to sipping his wine and watching the Half-Orc lose at cards.

Vesta looks to Virius and frowns. "The contingent of Gnarleymen are suppose to arrive sometime this evening, It is likely that someone in their group will know how to track, they know these woods better than any Elf." she says.

Althiof heard Virius suddenly calling out to those in the Inn, while he himself was drinking from his flagon, and heard the tall guy speaking of his friends.  'Oh, that's good,' he thought to himself, 'the guy brought some muscle with him.'  While drinking from the flagon, he opened one eye and slowly looked around and then past the guy.  Closing it, he opened his other eye and glanced around, but still did not see any "friends."

Opening both eyes at the same time, he looked back to the tall guy and saw him motioning towards the two dwarves.  Suddenly, Althiöf spit and sprayed out the ale in his mouth.  'How did I get myself into this?'

Dumbfounded, the locksmith could not speak momentarily, but his jaw just hung open in shock.

Korkas nodded his head with Virius as he made his pronouncement. A grin crept across Korkas's face as Ostler made his offer, 10 gold a head, I can work with that.

Korkas burst out in a deep laugh when Althiof spit our his alcohol "That bad?"

Vesta looks to Althiof and frowns. "I'm sorry the brews are not to your liking Master Dwarf." she says. Vesta then walks away from the table and back towards her father to refill her tray.

A lean, dark young man walked into the inn, looking about in the dim light. He was average height, lean but not thin. He had shoulder length, dark hair and blue eyes. He sported a few days' stubble and did not normally wear a beard from the tanned skin of his jaw. He was dusty from travel and appeared to be tired and hungry.

He had come from Gnarly Forest, a trek that had taken him longer than it should. He still couldn't believe the Ranger Knight gave him leave. Elkiar Rusman had been a friend of his father and a mentor to the young ranger. The death had hit the young man harder than he thought it would or could. It was the least he could do to come and pay his respects. Once Ostler Gundigoot greeted him, Hollen dropped his weapons except for his long knife into the chest provided then found a basin and washed up.

Reentering the common room, he spotted those gathered for the funeral. Quietly, he approached and, at a pause in the conversation, he asked softly, "Mind if I join you?" The young man seemed awkward and ill at ease as if he would much rather be out of doors sitting by a fire with dinner spitted and roasting.

---

OOC: Hello, all!

Virius nodded and waved a hand at an open seat.  Once Hollen was situated, Tesh introduced himself and relayed Spugnoir's tale and Ostler's promise of recompense.