In reply to Caile (msg # 85):

Lothar having spent a little more time than most resting, eating and drinking walks out of the tavern and seeing the amount of progress that's been made so far on the wall lets out a hearty chuckle.

All of your combat training, travels in these cursed lands and your knowledge of things bigger than most could even attempt to put into words... but stacking some stones is too much?!

He says aloud to all within earshot before letting another good strong chuckle erupt from his belly.

Let me remember my childhood years spent stacking wooden blocks and let's get this thing fixed up together my new friends.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:27, Sat 20 June 2020.

After Brander brings some tools and, the majority of the group set about repairing sections of the wall around Runething. The evening wears on and the weather turns cold and wet. Working through the falling rain, some hear a distant crack like lightning and a rumbling of thunder, but there is no flash of light, nor does the sound come again…

Some have more success than others, with Brevis and Caile among those that end up looking like they have fought against the wall rather than try and repair it…

Nonetheless, after several hours of hard labour, the wall has been rebuilt in places and reinforced in others and Brander, along with a few other villagers thank the visitors with water from earthenware jugs and loaves of bread from their ovens.

Harinder meanwhile slumbers by the wall, the elven woman haunting his dreams, Clay too lingers in his thoughts.. Are the runes on the plateau a sign of something that is to come? The sundering of the stones of Horn and the Raven? What could it mean? Something to do with the fire god and the raven god? Are the two gods in conflict with Clay, or is it a sign that those gods cannot be trusted?

By the time Harinder awakens, he is sure of one thing, the servants of Clay are powerful and they mean to become more so.. For good or worse, he is not sure.

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Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
OOC: I'm going to fast forward time through Q3 & Q4. So when everyone wakes up from Sleeping, it is Q1 on day 2 of the campaign..

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This message was last edited by the GM at 06:51, Tue 23 June 2020.

Brevis has intentionally forgone cleaning up his appearance, merely tending to his wounds as best he can.  If there is any chance of swaying the favor of the Roka orcs, it belies him to be appear humble, cast out, and separate from his bloodline to the greatest extent possible.

Having woken up in his chair, Caile clutches his pounding head in his hands and stumbles out to the trough to dunk it in the cold water. He then staggers back inside to collect his gear, grabbing a loaf and a jug of water on his way back out. He mutters a thank you as he leaves the inn.

Once outside he sits down with his back against the inn's wall, wolfing down the loaf and chasing it with big gulps of water. After finishing his breakfast the minstrel wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets up to don his armor. As he fastens his sword to his belt and slings his shield and backpack onto his back he spies Lothar over by the village well. Caile saunters over, helmet in hand.

"Morning. You did fine work last night, master halfling. I, on the other hand, seemed to make a mess of everything I touched. Clay must surely have abandoned my hand." The Frailer chuckles. "Or maybe I just had a bit too much ale? My mouth does taste like something crawled in there and died. What d'you reckon?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:54, Sat 27 June 2020.

Unable to eat all of his bread, Brevis offers a clean chunk to Eins.

This is more than I've earned for beating on a wall.  You'd be doing me a favor by sharing the wealth, I'd hate to appear ungrateful.

Of course, my appearance is likely to be a problem with the Roka as well.  I believe if they are willing to hear me out, a case against the slavers could be made appealing to the orcs, but they'll have to leave my throat intact to do so.

The dwarfs and orcs have a history, do they not?  Have you encountered the Roka or their kin during your travels?

In reply to Caile (msg # 89):

Looks as if this towns swill did not agree with you much? I can't say I cared much for the taste, but in these parts you learn not to be picky... Perhaps drink is not your thing? Nor masonry!

He says with a smile and a firm slap on the elfs lower back.

You truly intend to seek out the Orcs for help? Risky business the Orcs. Strong to be sure and more clever then most believe. They've no love of elves, not saying they won't help, I just don't see it coming easily, but if life were easy where then would be the fun?

In response to Brevis (msg #90)

Eins takes the bread.

"Thanks. And yes, Dwarves and Orcs got history. But let's face it, everyone has history with the Orcs."

Eins stretches out his muscles, working out the kinks.

"I've got quite the personal history with Orcs, though. Fought against them, then fought with them. It's a long story."

Eins looks like a mess as well, but isn't so intentionally. He actually seems more perked up today after a good night of work.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:40, Mon 29 June 2020.

In reply to Eins Heold (msg # 92):

My shared history with orcs is one of persecution and a blood debt that has yet to be paid.  We're entering a new age in these lands, one where alliances can be forged and slaver criminals ought be brought to their knees.

If you've fought alongside them, then you may be able to help broker a diplomatic truce with the Roka.  I don't suppose you saved the chief's daughter at any point?  Any high ranking drinking buddies amongst their numbers?  I'd like to offer them a gift when we arrive.  Any suggestions?

In reply to Lothar (msg # 91):

Caile's face flushes red as he scratches the back of his neck with a calloused hand.

"Heh, you may be right, friend... Though I must contend that I usually am quite as adept at swinging a hammer as I am swinging a sword or playing a tune. But into each life some rain must fall, must it not? At least my misfortune did not befall me on the battlefield, and for that I am grateful."

He takes a deep lungful of air, holds it for a few seconds, and then lets it out in a deep sigh.

"Yes. I guess I do. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I bear no love for the elves either, though their cursed blood courses through my veins. My elven father abandoned me and my mother while I was still growing in her womb, the coward. She did her best to raise me on her own, but succumbed to a wasting sickness when I was but a child. My elven blood seemed to protect me from falling ill, so I had the 'pleasure' of watching her slowly die, unable to save her."

Caile spits on the ground, a dark look in his eyes.

"So I think we might find common ground in our hatred, if nothing else"

Caile walks over to Eins and Brevis, listening in on their conversation, motioning Lothar to come along. As he waits for them to conclude their business he scans the streets of Runething for any sign of Harinder. Where did the old man go? What was he up to? Caile didn't trust him or his 'confused hermit' act. No one could be that demented and survive in these lands for long.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:11, Fri 03 July 2020.

Harinder is found inspecting the wall. He looks as if he had been sleeping in the mud and rain, but cares not about it. He runs a hand along the wall and scoffs, then helps himself to some bread loaf. He brings out his skin mug and swipes up some rainwater from a hollow of a lose piece of rock, seemingly intended for the wall.

In reply to Harinder (msg #96)

Eins sees the old man approach and throws up his hands a bit with exasperation.

"Where were you?"

He looks over Harinder.

"Then again, if a man'd rather spend the night in a pigsty than do a touch of work, who am I to stop him?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:44, Fri 03 July 2020.

Caile nods at Harinder as the old druid approaches the group.

"Have you come to join us on our quest, master druid, or have you come to attempt to dissuade us from our 'fools' errand'?"

The minstrel glares at the old man with badly concealed contempt and turns back to Eins and Brevis.

"Anything you can tell us that may help prepare us for our encounter with the orcs would be invaluable, Eins. It would be a sad day indeed if our attempt at parley ended in bloodshed due to a simple misunderstanding."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:29, Fri 03 July 2020.

In reply to Caile (msg #98)

"Tip number one: Don't use fancy words like parlé. Tip number two: Don't show weakness. If one starts cursin' at you, you'd better curse right back and sock them in the face. Tip number three: Don't ever sound like you're helping them. They don't need your help. You need their help."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:12, Fri 03 July 2020.

In reply to Eins Heold (msg # 99):

I'm not entirely convinced that when it comes to the Orcs you and I are allowed to play by the same rules, my dwarf friend.  That said, if you have my back, then I won't hesitate to knock the pointed end off one of those diseased stock-fishes pizzles.

This is Brevis' best and only attempt at orc cursin' to date.  He casually surveys his group to gauge any meter of success.

The old druid replies to the dwarf with raised eyebrows.

"I sleep at night, usually. Do you not? It prepares me better for a days journey than a night without. I believe you were all tasked with wall building for 'Things hospitality? Is it already complete, then?"

Harinder disapprovingly examines the wall.

"Well, no matter. There are needs for other preparations. How fare we with provisions? Hunting gear? I know little of the route to our location but dare say I know my way through the terrain. I will lead and you do the talking, then? The halfbloods can come along. Better they arm themselves and cover their faces, are we to meet with Roka, do you not agree? Now, wasnt there a halfling with us?"

He is searching the ground and vegetation, as if expecting the halfman to be hiding behind a stone or a bush.

Caile guffaws at Brevis' attempt at an orcish curse but quickly reins it in, seeing a crestfallen Brevis looking at him.

"Very good, Brevis, very good indeed. Eins, we'll do our best to keep your advice in mind. Maybe you'd be so kind as to do the initial presentation, seeing as how you're already well versed in the way of the orcs?"

The Frailer bristles at Harinder's use of the term halfblood, blood rising to his cheeks once more.

"Hah! Do you know so little of your own history, old fool? According to legend it was the humans who traded the enslaved orcs to the dwarves and elves in exchange for Alderland to the south. I can see that you aren't of as noble lineage as all that, but do you think the orcs of the Roka clan will see that? Or even care?"

The words fly from the minstrels lips in a rain of spittle. He is about to turn back to his conversation with Eins and Brevis but stops and stares straight into the old druid's eyes.

"Oh, and call me halfblood one more time and I will gut you like the mangy mongrel you are. Understood?"

In reply to Caile (msg # 102):

The fire that has been stoked in Caile's belly signals to Brevis that the time for action has arrived.  Dawn is upon them and there is much to be accomplished.  A journey lies ahead.

Save your energy, brother.  Let us set our sights on more important matters.  I've always found traveling after a night of rain to be quite fortuitous.

Brevis continues speaking to Caile, but now has his eyes affixed upon Harinder.  He slides the throwing axe out from his cloak, juggling it between his hands.

And thanks again for spotting me the axe.  Such a fine instrument.  Consider borrowing it any time the need arises.

Caile takes a breath, centering himself. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but something about the old man set him on edge. It was as if all of his senses screamed at him, warning of danger, as soon as the druid came close. He'd better keep his wits about him and his feelings in check.

"You're right, brother, of course you are. We must save our strength for the task at hand, not waste it bickering amongst ourselves. And yes, there is a certain quality to the world after a good night of rain, a feeling of something waiting in store. Hope, perhaps?"

As Brevis begins to juggle the axe, a thin smile appears on Caile's lips.

"Such a generous offer, brother, but I don't think I'll have need of it. Will I, old man?"

Considering the matter with Harinder settled for the moment, and eager to get on with the days work, Brevis dashes over to the general store and inquires about getting a map of the area.

Caile leaves Harinder and the rest of the group and strides over to the village well and winches up the beaten old bucket from its depths. He tops up his waterskin and then drops the bucket back into the well. It lands with a satisfying splash. He then proceeds to stuff his backpack with a couple of loaves of bread. That should keep his hunger in check for a couple of days, at least. He then heads over to the general store to see what Brevis is up to and to see if the shopkeeper has anything worth buying.

Eins rises from his seat and follows in Calie's lead, topping off his waterskin as well. He takes a hearty swig from the bucket as well before dropping it back down.

In reply to Caile (msg # 104):

Choosing to misunderstand the question and ignoring the outburst, Harinder replies with a lecturing on how to NOT use an axe for firewood, but to search for dead branshes instead.

"A petty axe wont do much to impress the orcs. They will not respect you if you do not appear more intimidating than a forester. Both of you halfb.. frailers need some combat gear. Steelcaps I would say, for hiding those pointed ears of yours. Wouldnt hurt to mud your faces before you face them as well. Now, where is that halfling hiding?"

Edit, added:
When he finds Lothar he approaches him with a suggestion. Soon they are both scouting the area around where the contestants for the games keep their belongings. Harinder is pointing out a pair of studded leather armors and caps of various quality that are being carrried into a tent by some duke's squire. Lothar nods discretely and disappears in among the tents.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:36, Mon 13 July 2020.

In reply to Eins Heold (msg # 107):

Upon seeing them enter the store, Brevis motions to Eins and Caile, brandishing the map as though it was a crib sheet to their destiny.

Look here!  This cave at the edge of the Arina Forest, with a bit of luck we can make it there before nightfall.

Caile enters the store, cutting off the inane ramblings of the demented druid outside. He grabs the map and pats Brevis on the shoulder.

"Indeed! A brisk march should get us there well before dark. But we should get going sooner rather than later, there's no telling what we might encounter en route to the territory of the orcs. Master shopkeeper, do you carry tents, by any chance?"