You have travelled for many days, as you have travelled the farms and towns have become less frequent and travellers few. The countryside has become craggy mountains and pine forests. At the far western edge of the kingdom lies Fourtower Bridge, the last mark of civilisation. The fortified bridge offers safe passage across the river for travellers of the Old King's Road.

The towers on the bridge are thirty feet high and made of rough stone. There is a copper pot on the bridge where travellers pay the toll of one silver piece for the crossing.

On near side of the bridge is the welcoming sight of The Moorland Magpie Inn. A cosy and welcoming two storey building. The innkeeper Lorna rents private rooms on the upper floor for one gold piece or travellers can sleep in the common room for one silver piece.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:48, Mon 16 Nov 2020.

With a clink, the robed man's silver joins the others in the copper pot. Toll paid, he sees to two items of business before settling into a corner of the hamlet's inn, named after the area's geography and fauna.

The first item: Payment for a notice at Millie's for the services of a "stout man-at-arms, who, if interested in testing his mettle in pursuit of coin within the depths of Stonehell,  should make himself known to one Barnabas the Prestidigitator (Ben will do) who can be found at the inn studying his tome of magics." After Millie points out the 10-word limit for all notices (and the 3 sp surcharge per word in excess of that limit), he grimaces and then revises: "Wanted: Man-at-arms for Stonehell expedition. Ask for Ben at Maggie's." About this, Millie informs him there will be none of that "cleverness with hyphenated words."

The haggling continues in this vein for some time.

The second item: Engagement of the town crier to bellow: "Wanted: Combatant for Stonehell expedition. Ask for Ben at Maggie's."

It was clear who had emerged the better in the earlier haggling.

With that, the robed man, 30 gold coins lighter in his purse, departs for the inn to introduce himself to the proprietress. What, he frets, will she charge to relay messages to him?
This message was last edited by the player at 00:11, Mon 16 Nov 2020.

At the bridge Barnabas the Prestidigitator dropped in his offering to Fourtower Bridge. There was no offer of thanks or any acknowledgement but the surly looking large man with a black beard, who leaned against one of the four towers did nothing to impede the wizard's path.

The greeting at Millie's was much more friendly, she joked with him as he paid her for his notice. Millie has two large dogs in the store with her as well as lots of useful equipment for adventurers and travellers. On the counter Ben saw a wooden demon mask with silver inlays, quite scary looking.

At the Moorland Magpie Inn he was greeted by Lorna, a middle-aged lady. She was friendly and welcoming. When Ben asked for her help she was accommodating, she however had many rules, most of which demanded that the drinks and victuals for all his visitors be fully paid for. A cost of five gold pieces which the innkeeper took upfront. Whilst taking his coins she happily explained to Ben that today's meal was fish cake with crowberry tart and a mug of perry, which would cost him a further five silvers.

Once Ben had settled in he waited for word of his offer of employment to bring hopefuls. After waiting all day Ben had a lone girl approached him. She was skittish and came slowly to his table, on closer inspection she was young, perhaps barely in her teens definitely not a fully grown woman. Despite her nervous deposition and young age she was suitable equipped in chainmail, shield, warhammer and axe. She introduced herself as Nerida le Roux and her price when asked was twenty three gold pieces per day.



OOC Not sure if I explained the costs for hiring retainers clearly.
5 gp for buying drinks at the inn
5 gp for a notice in the store
15 gp for the town crier
Total cost of you do everything of 25gp.

Teodore pays the toll, and heads for the general store straightaway. There he places a notice asking after a porter and a linkboy for a trek into Stonehell. Then he heads over to the inn, where he pays Lorna's five gold coins and lets folks know he just needs a porter and a linkboy, and that he'll do all the fighting. As he sits at the inn eating fish cake and sipping perry, he looks around for other adventurers. The perry is a good one, and he pays for another mug when his first is drained.

Travelling along the King’s Road not far behind the wizard Ben was the fighting man Teodore. Teodore first impressions of Fourtower Bridge was much like Ben’s however when Teodore employed the services of Millie he saw the earlier posted notice ‘Wanted: Man-at-arms for Stonehell expedition. Ask for Ben at Maggies.’ Teodore’s notice was pinned beside it.

At the Moorland Magpie Inn the innkeeper Lorna welcomed Teodore and happily served him the fishcake, bringing another mug of perry to go with his crowberry tart. Whilst Teodore finished off the crumbly pastry he was approached by his only applicant of this day. In a contrast to the very young man-at-arms that had approached Ben the man that approached was venerably old. He was a wild looking man and carried with him a sturdy fish pole, his clothes were muddy and still wet from his day spent by the nearby river. He straightened his bent back not too successfully and introduced himself as Hopkins de Bellemare. He offered his service as a porter for the price of thirteen silver per day.

Whilst Teodore and Ben enjoyed the warmth and hospitality of the inn and got to know their new prospective hirelings the day waned. In the evening the inn become busier. As more perry was drunk an elegant man in his forties entered the inn. He sat by the fire and many listened to his tale of how he stole the cursed spellbook of the necromancer Viziri.

His purse lightened further by five silvers, the price of the tavern's fine fare, Ben regards the man-at-arms who has responded to his advertising efforts. More like adolescent-girl-at-arms, he worries. He tries to convince himself that she must possess hidden strength to wield her war hammer and bear the weight of her armor.

Nonetheless, he engages her for her asking price of 23 gold pieces a day. She will get what she has asked for. Let her enjoy at least one victory in her life.

At first, when he saw the warrior enter the tavern, he had thought it in response to his had. then he observes that he appears to have done some advertising of his own. But why would he have sought the services of a senescent vagabond? Still, it would be good to make his acquaintance.

But, then, entranced, he turns his attention to the man who claimed to have purloined a cursed book of spells.

”Should you follow St. Ras, know that sometimes, the journey you will take will make little sense. You may never know why you are sent where you are sent. But in the end, St. Ras’ purposes will be fulfilled, even if we do not see them. We must trust in his design, and the part we play within it.”

So Father Ginros had told Siward, and the young acolyte trusted in the truth of the elder priest’s lesson, and in the guidance of St. Ras. But as he gazed at the expanse of the Fourtower Bridge, fully aware that it represented the last edge of civilization, Siward felt entirely abandoned to his god’s mysterious purposes. What possible good could he accomplish out here, in the wild? He sighed as he walked across the expanse, doing his utmost to push his nagging doubts aside. There was something of true import here. He knew that without question. Yes, his path might lead through dense banks of fog, the sort of swirling mist where a man would be counted fortunate to find himself; but the road would still be the right one to follow. He was not aimless. Something far wiser than he guided his steps.

The acolyte was thankful for the welcoming warmth of the Moorland Magpie Inn, the fatigue of his trek finally catching up to him as he found a table and ordered a simple meal and a mug of ale. He had only taken his first sip of the beverage when the elegantly dressed stranger swept into the room with promise of a tale. The cursed spellbook of a necromancer? Siward was intrigued, giving the storyteller his full attention.

Pleased with herself and with a purse full of gold coins Nerida ordered and ate the fishcakes at Maggies. She was a finicky eater picking at her food and nibbling at each morsel, occasionally for unknown reasons pushing one scrap or another to one side of the plate, deemed as not for her consumption.

At the other table and garnering much attention the thief continued to tell his tale of wits and daring. Another traveller and more villagers joined the crowd. A one legged man who had been in the inn at day got steadily drunker. The thief's tale of adventures far away was long, winding and painted himself as the hero. The rogue enjoyed the attention of travellers and villagers alike, smiling and laughing often.

Fiene was enjoying the quiet of walking.  He paid the toll to cross the bridge, and chatted with the guards there politely, getting advice and information about the best place to get a meal, and letting it be known he was looking to explore Stonehell.

He made his way to the Moorland Magpie Inn, greasing the palm of the bartender, he lets it be known he is seeking a stout man at arms to protect his person.

ooc: 5GP buying drinks with a 17 CHA...

"A discriminating eater," Ben observes with approval, having noticed Nerida's policy of food segregation.

It isn't long before the thief's stemwinder has devolved into self-aggrandizement. The would-be wizard turns his attention to any truly capable sorts at the inn and spots at least three of them: a fighting man, a holy man, and a most charming one. He's not quite sure why the last one should be in the group; he just has something ... something about him. Is it the cut of the ginger's hair?

"Je ne sais quoi," he admits, giving up.

He proceeds to introduce himself and his woman-at-arms to each of them, announcing his attention to proceed to Stonehell itself at first light. They are welcome to join his expedition if their "stars have guided" them to Fourtower Bridge to do the same.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:37, Fri 20 Nov 2020.

The common room of The Moorland Magpie Inn became quite busy with the entrance of another traveller. Lorna provided plentiful refills of Perry to all travellers and prospective hirelings, which brought the volume of general noise and hubbub to a merry level.

Barnabas the Prestidigitator and his warrior-for-hire Nerida did the rounds. Nerida both young and nervous kept herself close to Barnabas and out of the way. Contrarily a confident warrior woman strode into the inn after a quick word and a serving of Perry from Lorna, for which the warrior gave the innkeeper an overfriendly embrace, she then looked around the room and approached the charming Fiene.

The woman who was in the prime of her life wore leather armour and carried a spear, she introduced herself as Ermengard Saint-Helene and that she was very pleased to offer her service as a man-at-arms for the price of eight gold pieces a day.

Barnabas whispers to his bodyguard that she should keep the terms of their arrangement to herself. While he would aver to any that "she merits each and every coin" he has pledged, there are others, he asserts, who might succumb to envy.

They might even, he says ruefully, say that she was too young to have strayed from home.

"But they don't know you like I do," he proclaims, his cheeks reddened with perry.

"Ermengard, was it?" Fiene replied, with a disarming smile.  "That is a strong sounding name.  I do hope you live up to it.  You see, I am in search of the arcane mysteries that might be found in Stonehell, and while my intellect is formidable, my martial skills are, how do you say?  Underdeveloped."  He rises, and slides the neighboring seat back for her.  "Please, sit. I see you already have a drink, I'd be happy to provide another, if we can come to agreement.  Eight gold a day is no small fee, and I'd expect that you're willing to take a blade on my behalf?  Does that include your own supplies, or am I to furnish lodging and food as well?"

Teodore agrees to Hopkins's price, and leads the man over to Barnabas while carrying his fresh drink, introducing himself to the prestidigitator.

"I am Teodore. This is my porter, Hopkins, and we will join you tomorrow on the trek to Stonehell Dungeon. I will pay for Hopkins from my own funds, but I would ask, how will we be dividing any spoils? I would suggest that we divide them equally among ourselves, and then for each of us to pay for our own hires from each of our shares."

The fighter looks around the room, picking out the others to whom Barnabas introduced himself. He sips absently at his perry, raising his mug in salute to the other adventuring types. He makes this mug last, for he's not a good riser if he's been drunk. And Barnabas said he wants to leave at first light. Teodore makes a face for a moment as he thinks how early that is.

The dwarf trudges down the stoney road pulling his four legged companion towards the vain light wavering in the growing shadow. The growl in his belly no raw turnip could silence.

Almost there old friend, just a little ways to go.

The mule snorted in contempt.

Don't be that way Vitchna, you think Urkov is happy, his belly full. Be thankful I don't brain you and have mule stew.

The mule snorted in contempt.

Yes, yes I know if the tables were turned, ol Urkov would be stew for Vitchna.  Be glad I am not like you.

The mule snorted in contempt.

Time passed blearily. The labored breaths of the two the cadence of the walking dead.

The pot stood before them, it's round maw ravenous and disgusting.

The dwarf pulled his coin from a lean purse of soiled leather. and spat upon it before he cast it in.

The guard's eyes soured.

Fuck you too. The dwarf sighed.

Yanking the mule with a jerk forward.

The mule snorted in contempt.

Lay off, you dumb ass.

*****

With his gear a jumbled mess upon his back, the dwarf surveyed the common room with its warmth, smiles and laughter.

He glared at the jovial figures moving about. and muttered to himself

No whores, bah! The ale better be good and cheap.

With an uncomfortable grin approaching a sneer, the dwarf plodded to an empty spot, his gear thumping loudly to the floor as he finally sat.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:06, Sat 21 Nov 2020.

The volume of noise in the common room was loud enough that Ben's whispering to Nerida would not be overheard. The girl nodded her agreement and looked pleased with the praise she received from Ben. Unlike many of the patrons Nerida was not drinking the perry, Lorna the middle aged innkeeper went to some efforts to ensure that the girl was given warmed milk to heat her belly rather than more potent spirits.

The warrior woman accepted Fiene offer of a seat and enthusiastically beat her breast "I'm as good as any man you might hire on these moors and will stand by your side, you have no worries" she reassured the wizard. In answer to the next question she replied "aye lodging and food as well". Lodging were a silver penny a person to sleep in the common room of The Moorland Magpie Inn. This evening's food and drinks were being provided in the funds already paid to Lorna.

Hopkin's followed Teodore as he made his introductions, although the old man was slow in making the rounds and an odd fishy smelly lingered around after him.

The grump dwarf was welcomed heartily by the middle aged innkeeper Lorna who brought him a full mug of perry, with a friendly smile she offered to bring him a meal of fish cake with crowberry tart for five silver pennies.

The dwarf accepted the drink with nod of thanks, and waved the woman to come closer.

Pulling out the soiled pouch, the dwarf opened it and peered inside, shaking it to get a better look at its meager contents.

Pulling out a single silver penny as asked quietly,

Would this get me a bowl of soup and some old bread?

His eyes were weary and pained.

Fiene ponders for a moment, tapping his fingers together lightly, then nods.  "Aye, food and lodging as well, but your arms and armor are your own." He places eight gold coins on the table.  "For tomorrow, be ready before breakfast.  I'll be here.  For now, I'm going to see about some additional companions"  He excuses himself, and goes to the bar.  After paying for a private room for himself, and a place in the common room for Ermengard, he makes his way towards the table with the appearance of other like minded fools.

"I am Fiene, am I correct that you plan a venture into Stonehell?" He asks  "I am also of that mind.  More hands make light work, as they say."

"Well of course dearie" Lorna accepted Urkov's silver penny "you enjoy your drink and I'll bring it over" the soup when it arrived was a clear soup with a fish head in it. It was hot and filling. To accompany it was bread leftover from breakfast and a small sliver of Crowberry tart.

"Aye I've my own arms and armour" Ermengard agreed. Innkeeper when paid directed Fiene where to find room and explained that there was a latch on the inside of the door for his privacy.

That is not the question that has come to mind for Barnabas. How could there be any other way of division for a party of the people?

"Naturally," Barnabas agrees, before looking at the aged man, Hopkins, standing after a fashion, next to Teodore. "A loyal family retainer, I take it?" he asks, the sort he thinks might brew a pot of tea to help the warrior face the day.


"By way of first light," Barnabas answers.

And as for the dour dwarf, Barnabas thinks he would do well do stand near the porter, to effect a concentration rather than a dispersion of their personal miasma.

He tries to muster a smile for him and says, "We aim to fill our purses in the local dungeon. Wouldn't hurt to have one such as yourself come along."

The dwarf raises an eye as he chews on the fish head.

Chewing,his mouth still full he replies

Tehbuhn gol ah dayah

He spits some bone and a fish eye onto his plate.

And fair share of treasure or my hammer and Vitchna will do it ourselves.

He spits into his and and holds it out.

Deal?  He smirks.

Siward listened quietly to the discussion, draining the last of his ale before speaking. “ I am called Siward. I am a priest of St. Ras. It seems to me that this gathering is the reason he led me to travel to this lonely village.”

“This Stonehell. By venturing within, we will do a great service for those on the surface, ensuring that whatever lurks inside of that place never travels above to do harm to the honest folk who know nothing of such terrors “

“I will gladly join such an effort. Together, there is much we might accomplish.”