The noontime bells rang in he One God's temple. Across Vandis people went about their business in the mid summer heat. For many it was a wet heat, oppressive in its ever present feel, that seemed to smother them in their own sweat. Dogs barked, children ran about shouting playfully, horses snorted in the heat, and people shuffled along the streets talking, humming, or cursing their luck over a bad deal.

The center of the town consisted a number of corrals, watering troughs, cargo platforms for offloading freight from caravans, and lots for wagons to be parked in. People worked to move freight, feed and water draft beasts, sort out passengers, and deal with tired and sweaty caravaneers. There were always a few traders, merchants, or artisans hanging around,looking to get the drop on a good on some prime trade goods.

This area was fronted by the towns three most important structures in town; the One God's Temple, the Ye Olde Bucket of Beer, and the Civic Center. All three were busy. Noon prayers were common in town, often taken just before going to the guild clerks in the Civic Center, which often led to a lunch of sausages and beans accompanied by a bucket of beer.

There were two caravans in Vandis this day. A cross continent trade caravan from the Iron Mountains exchanging fine metal goods for spices rare in the cold northwest and a d'Tor Clan caravan representing the Fine Cuisine and Wines Guild of Lanis to the north. Several passengers offloaded, as did many caravan workers, and began working their way towards the Ye Olde Bucket of Beer.

Stretching his back, and drawing more than a few stares, the Goblin Xaz cursed his luck to draw passage in passenger coach with seats for bigger people. The bouncing was rough at times, but the worst was the sliding back and forth with the rocking of the coach. He would need to buy pillow in town before the caravan pulled away. Looking up he decided it would be better to wash down the road dust and grab a soothing meal.

Several people walked along, watching as the Goblin made his way carefully around what were ankle deep cow patties for a Goblin. Among the was the dark skinned Noza. Moving with the bored gait of someone more accustomed to stalking the landscape than crawling across it like a mile long wooden snail. Looking about her she saw the tavern the caravaneers had been speaking in such high regard. It looked like any other taphouse or dance hall she had known. But, the name was intriguing, did the place actually sale beer in buckets.

Laughing to himself at the high stepping Goblin, the Gnome Kurt Stonehammer shuffle along form the caravan form the Iron Mountains. After months of travels to the get across the Great Plains and its multitude of little towns, Kurt was accustomed to such environments and their hazards. Walking along with the Dwarf fighters from Goldstone to the tavern he to wondered if the establishment actually did serve beer in buckets.

Listening to the Dwarf guards of the other caravan chatter about the fabled buckets of beer served in the tavern across the way it occurred to Malcolm d'Tor that the place may be just he place to experience the everyday life of the men in his family's caravan. It could be fun, and possibly enlightening.

Over at the Civic Center the office of the Mayor was busy. The clerk for the Mayor, an old woman by the name of Howa, seemed to know everything or everyone in town. Or with fifty miles of it. Though there were those whom she often couldn't help. On those occasions Howa was quick to direct curious inquiries to Ralston, the bartender at the Ye Olde Bucket of Beer. The Dwarf knew the most nefarious and infamous names in the region. And their often sordid business. On this day she had turned quite a few curious parties away to seek out Ralston.

Jaylyn Cairn walked along admiring the day. It was another hot, sweaty day in the south. Such days often drove those with less sense than the few scruples they possessed into places where they could lounge and drink. According old Howa, Ralston and the Ye Olde Bucket of Beer, were exactly the person and place to locate any of the names and faces on the various wanted posters he carried.

Maria was hopeful but worried. According to the old woman in the Mayor's office this Dwarf, Ralston, over at the local watering hole for caravaneers, smugglers, and locals alike was the most likely person to have a lead on anyone possibly involved exploiting a headstrong teenager. She was moving there as fast her legs would carry her.

Mezah had been standing a person further back in the line to speak with the old clerk in the Mayor's office when she overheard, completely by accident of course, as the Dwarf female asked about a missing girl, a runaway she had said. Once the Dwarf left and the next person seemed to be consulting on a matter for the Mayor's upcoming ball, Mezah decided waiting was not in her best interest. She needed to know what advice the old crone had given the dwarf and quickly made her way to catch up. She made to the street in time to see the Dwarf as she entered the tavern across the way.

The Halfling fighter Doven Tallbarrow had herd that there was usually a nightly brawl for coin in a local tavern, a place that was rumored to sell beer in buckets. He figured he was in the right place when he saw the sign; the Ye Olde Bucket of Beer. Smiling he made his way towards his next paying fight.

Tarek Darksturm tied off his mount and stretched. The riding had been long and hot and a cool beer in a chill-touched bucket sounded mighty fine at the moment. Stepping up onto the porch he shocked to see a towering Goliath at the far end of the porch.

Vogryn patted a mount tied to the hitching post as he walked up onto the porch. It occurred to him that he was now close enough to Barronia, the capital city that named the Kingdom still drew a chuckle from him, but it would be a good town to stop riding a slow moving caravan and ride in on his own mount. He had heard the caravan guards say the this tavern sold beer in buckets. Good, he needed a beer. Stepping up onto the porch he saw another man in armor at the far ended gawking at him.

Vogryn and Tarek stood staring. Both wore the tabard of the Knights Order.

Walking along with the troops called out earlier as he entered the town, Brother Samuel was talking with the sergeant who led the troop into an effort to track down a large Gnoll pack, more likely a roving tribe that had wiped out a clan of Half-Orcs in a small ville north of Vandis. The tracker, and old Ranger named Longwalker, had found the tracks of one Half-Orc. The only survivor of the encounter with the Gnolls was left to their own devices when Longwalker determined they had slipped away from the Gnolls and were making a beeline for Vandis in the swamps.

Yrpish was striding through the center of town, dodging caravaneers and passengers alike as he strode towards the Civic Center. He had to inform the Mayor about the attack on his clan. He had to get help and organize a search party for survivors or for justice. He was nearing the Ye Olde Bucket of Beer when he spotted the troops waling towards the tavern. They looked tired and muck strewn. Freshly much strewn. Then it occurred to him to listen. The sergeant of the troops was talking to a big human, a cleric no less, about going after 'those Gnolls' again in the morning.

Una Emberkettle was quickly copying recipes into her own book. She had spent the morning talking with the old Elf cook, Hera Spicelocks, about her collection of spicy soup recipes. But, with the influx of people from the caravans she knew she would soon loose her opportunity to speak with Elf as Hera would be needed in the kitchen.

Farlindir was idly playing a lively tune. With the steady increase in patron in the Ye Olde Bucket he was hopeful that he would soon be turning a few coins. As people entered he surprised to see the eclectic mix of people; a Goblin, a Gnome, many Dwarves, two soldiers were staring each other down along the length of the porch, several attractive females, and there was a muck covered Half-Orc staring down a soldier in the crowd. Yes, he would make a few coins today.

Despite the action; playing bards and dancing people, busy servers and dining patrons, bragging soldiers and praying priests, a notice appeared on the bulletin board.

Mezah's eyes flickered over to the conversation which had drew her attention but like a passing breeze the respite, that briefest of lights-was gone.

...No..

Mezah who understood the value human interaction and most importantly the laws of supply and demand felt her rational and more measured nature crumble before the weight of needing to know. She detached, moving as if compelled by gravity or so other primal force that ordered the universe (perhaps less subtly than she would have under better circumstances) and followed in Maria's wake and before she disappeared into the tavern. She stood, framed in the doorway for a second as she adjusted to the sights and sounds which lay within as she scanned the room for the dwarf that she had seen (Maria).

"For now Longwalker we should eat and rest. Killing Gnolls is never easy even with the One God behind you."

Knut fids his way into the Tavern. He hoped the name implied the truth, given the amount him and his kin could drink. Once inside he speaks to them in the dwarven tongue. From the sounds of it he was a native speaker and not a learned scholar of the language. After a moment they each pass up gold coin each to the small dwarf. He then adds one of his own to the small pile and approaches the bar. Catching the eye of the Dwarf behind the bar, he waves him over and still speaking in the dwarven tongue, talks to the bar keep.

The tall halforc had been walking and swimming for days, having taken the long way around to Vandis and making sure he wasn't followed. Cold camps in tree canopies, walking where the dry land was no matter the direction it took you cause it was dry, and the occasional waist-deep stroll through the drink. He hoped the buckets the beer came in were big. But first things first.

Yprish listened for long enough to make sure they were talking about his clan, and coughed. "Sergeant? You been lookin for gnolls what kilt some folk? Guess you was trackin 'em a'forehand, cause I came here quick as I could without gettin spotted. Quick as I could, but it's slow goin' in the bayou if'n you ain't got no boat. Lucky I had my kit, I suppose. Sure ain't feel lucky...

"Sergeant, I reckon them's the gnolls kilt my kin, an I'm lookin to set things a'right."

Horace Emberkettle's middle daughter grabbed Spicelocks' sleeve to stay her, brown eyes tinged with orange rapidly darting over the recipes and notes she'd transcribed in halfling (the obvious language for cookbooks!) and pointed to one of the notes, ink darkening her finger

"Alright, alright, I'll let you go after this, promise! Yes I did say that ten minutes ago, and a half hour before that. But see here, this stuff, elf hazel? You're saying it can be cooked? Cooked, cooked?"

Una smacked a hand to her thigh, letting out a little chuckle

"My gran had a pot of lotion made from the stuff, she used to use it to lighten scars and weathering. She smacked my bottom awful when I took a pinch of the stuff. Never thought you could cook with it!"

A wide smile broke across the halfling's face as she scribbled more notes in her book, her quill dipping into the ink with speed almost frantic, like a needle repairing a dress as it was worn to dance.

"Now the thing is . . . I don't know any elvish. Elven? Elfese? Don't know elfspeak, and some of these words . . . well I wrote them as best I could but you're gonna need to look this over for the spelling if I'm to have any chance of finding them at market! Orrrrrrrrr . . . "

She sprinkled sand on the new words, gingerly.

" . .. could be you cook up these soups some time, let me taste them. I know a spice or two when I taste them. Oh you should taste brass salt! What . . . oh right, you don't have that here."

"Please sit down."

Samuel pushed a chair out under the table with a long leg.

"I'm not a Sergeant young man, well not anymore. And Longwalker here sees a great many things most folk would miss. He's just been at this too long to fool him."

"Tell us your story. Added to what we already know it will help us to track these murderers and prevent more harm."

Yprish nodded and sat down. "Name's Yprish, after my great-granddaddy. Died day a'fore I was born and momma figured that would just make sense. Don't know how much you know of these parts, but we got kin down round-about Leist-Cairn by way of my uncle's family. Daddy and him got to feuding over this stretch of green, cattle kept trampin the barley stalks going down to the stream to drink, and nobody wanted to spend the time building a blamed fence to keep 'em out. Came to blows, it did.

"So my brothers, sisters, ma, pa, an Kricksa and all them pulled up stakes. Headed out to set new ones. That was ten years gone now and we had a cozy time, even if we was just scratchin a living... it was our livin."

He paused, licking his lips a few times and taking deep breath before continuing.

"Now, I says all that cause ain't no way we was in any kind of gnoll-huntin land. Ain't no way. I been trappin the bayou since I could swim and ain't one time I seen one o' them's tracks. Nawsir. No gnolls there'bouts.

"So when I sees them's foot-paws on the trail up to mee-maw's I knew something was... was wrong. Don't know what I could tells ya. You seen what they done. What they left."

He took another deep breath.

"I seen 'em do it. I seen 'em hanging Hrashu and them by their hands, taking bites of their legs. I seen em make ... make Roose watch..."

He stopped, and the reality of it all sunk in now he was saying it.

He sniffed. "There was one. Biggest one. Shock of white hair running down the back of his neck. All the other was listenin to him, doing what he said. They mostly snarled, but if'n they said that one's name it was something like, Gwantu'ru? Gransuku? Said it often enough, and I weren't far, but I ain't know fer sure. I snuck up, tucked into the roots of a cypress. Nothin I could do. By the time I got there they'd mostly had their fun. Mostly. Reckon they... they was getting bored."

Yprish spat in his hand and slammed it down on the table.

"Y'all can do what you want with them others. But I want in, cause I'm gonna wear that Gwantu'vu summbitch's head fer a hat."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:46, Wed 05 Jan 2022.

Malcolm d'Tor stepped off the caravan. He was a tall man in his late twenties. Dressed in finer clothes than most, he immediately stood out from many of the travelers that were attached to the caravan from the north. He sought out the caravan master, "I will not be returning with you. The family already knows." He said with a smile. "When you're done here, I'll buy you a drink. It's the least that I can do." Malcolm disappeared into the crowd only his light brown hair marked his position.

As Malcolm stepped up to the porch of the Ye Olde Bucket, he spotted a note on the bulletin board. "Excuse me." He said as he stepped around the people gathered on the porch. He was drawn to the note as he was an avid reader.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:32, Wed 05 Jan 2022.

The rumors were true. And a little off. And the results were grand. And made the Ye Olde Bucket of Beer fortune in beer sales.

A young Elf maiden, mere child on the verge of adulthood, lined up two dozen metal pails. Each looked to be able to hold around a gallon of water. Into each a young Elf lad, who was undoubtedly the maiden's twin, began pouring a quart of water into each bucket.

Onlookers smiled or goggled at the twins. Once the preparations were ready the pair did a bit of a prancing wind up and cast cantrips from either side of the assembled buckets. Hoary frost formed and and the ice turn to solid blocks instantly. There was the ping of frozen metal. People clapped. When the twins began topping each bucket with frothy dark ale people began shouting encouragements.

Many onlookers were relieved. Stories told of the chill touch being used to chill the beer. That was a deadly spell to cast on innocent beer for dry throats! But Frostbite, now that was a spell of a different vintage indeed. And, why not cast it on buckets for beer.

Food orders rolled off of tongues almost as fast as summons for buckets of chilled stout. The menu on the wall read;

1 bucket with 2 mugs............4 silver
 add fresh bread and butter.....1 silver
 add spiced turtle soup (bowl)..2 silver
 add apples or peaches (whole)..1 silver
 add venison stew (bowl)........4 silver
 add venison cutlets............3 silver
 add venison cutlets and eggs...5 silver
 add spiced fish soup (bowl)....4 silver
 add spiced frog pie............3 silver
 add spiced lintel soup.........2 silver
 add tip (and you will tip).....1 silver

The Dwarf running the bar stood on a tall stoop at the back of the counter and shouted towards the bard saying, "Hey, you play us a dance tune. Something lively to go with the spicy soup and uplifting to suit this fine chilled stout from my cousins in the Fortress Mountains."

People cheered. Money and beer flowed.

Despite not really minding the change in climate from his native land, Jaylan once again ran an old rag over his lower face and the back of his neck. It was hot enough, but the confines of a Sallet Helm made it feel like he was wearing an oven on his head. Still, he would rather that than even have the possibility of having his identity known and any repercussions falling on his family.

Having already questioned old Howa, the heavily armed and armored man made for Ye Olde Bucket with all haste. Not only to line up some new bounties, but to get out of the heat and quench the thirst that had been building in him from the dust of the road.

Once inside, the lithe man did what he always did when he entered into an unfamiliar tavern. He scanned the room to see if anyone had a dagger or arrow ready for his back (which happened more often than you might think), and then he looked for any faces that might be on his wanted posters. You would be moon-eyed at how many men were caught through a simple coincidental meeting.

That done, he went over to the bar and gently knocked on the wood to get the Dwarf's attention.

"I'll take a bucket, a bowl of your venison stew, and a loaf of bread. And if'n you might point me in the direction of Ralston, I would appreciate it," Jaylan rumbled from the hidden darkness of his helm.

While he waited, the bounty hunter rested his hands on the well-worn hilts of his wicked looking bolo-knives, and surveyed the room again, looking for threats and prey once again. The situation in places like this were always fluid and changing.

The stout dwarf with an auburn, neatly trimmed beard made a beeline for the bar. Quickly stopping in front of the church of the one-god to fold her hands in prayer. Maria was dress in the attire of a sister of the one god. Black robes and a black cowl covered her head. Wrapped around her back the intricately carved warhammer. The Father had told her it had belonged to her clan. It was good to see it out of its case for the first time since she'd left the orphanage. She ran her fingers along the face of a long dead dwarf.
Opening the tavern door, the sister nodded respectfully at those nearby and made her way quietly to the bar. She looked at the dwarf across from her and smiled "I'll take a bit of that stew and some warm tea please?" She needed to stay sharp. She looked around suspiciously for a moment, "I've been told that you're the man to talk to about finding information?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:03, Wed 05 Jan 2022.

In reply to Una Emberkettle (msg # 6):

Standing near the entrance, not in the way but neither too far from the exit, Noza watch the bar with an amused grin. They really were serving beer in buckets.

The explorer's feet ached, and a small blister was somehow forming between two of her toes. She viewed the menu with cautious anticipation, and was rewarded when she saw they sold peaches. They were wonderful drupes that must come from this region as she'd not encountered them elsewhere. As she approached to order it, buttered bread, and lentil soup, she could not help but overhear Una talk about elvish ingredient lists.

"Were I back home I could help you," she said half to herself slowly, in a distinct accent, "I learned the old elf language when I was young, Rivertown has many who live there. But I've no idea what the right words are for the plants and animals that live here."

Tarek watched with fascination at the hectic and busy activity in Vandis. The knight commander had mentioned to the young squire about what to expect once he arrived and to be prepared. However, the words did not serve justice to Vandis. He glanced around in surprise and awe. He turned around to see everything and then he spun around once more. While there were three main structures, it still appeared to overwhelm the youth. He caught himself staring at Vogryn and a broad smile betrayed his excitement as he observed the tabard. Tarek closed this fist and gently tapped his heart in salute to his fellow brethren.

Tarek approached Vogryn and extended his hand in greeting. "By the stars this is a most welcome site. I am Tarek Darksturm and it is an honor to have a fellow brother from the Order. What news do you have? Come lets us tarry no further and lets have an ale and some food. I hear beautiful and lively music that is coming from the tavern."

Tarek peered into the tavern and smiled at the music and festivities.  He smiled even further while listening to the music from Farlindir. He took out a few silver pieces and approached him. "Pray please play some more. After the long and dusty ride this is a most welcome respite. Please take no offense if I am overstepping the mark but I would love to hear some more." Tarek offered the three silver pieces.

Tarek motioned back towards Vogryn and waived him to follow him.

"Looking for Ralston," the Dwarf laughed hard and loud. "I'm Ralston. Maybe you ought to take of the bucket and fill it with beer! Oh, no, wait, get the lass there to frost it over for you. Then you could cool off that overcooked brain! I'm Rolston you fool."

Turning his face to Maria he suddenly had a change in demeanor and used his fingertips to smooth over the handlebars of his mustache, "Hello, lass, and yes I'm the Dwarf you are looking for. Now, what can old Ralston due for you?"

As he spoke to Maria, Ralston snapped his fingers and signaled for a serving girl to come over. She was tall and lovely, busty and sweaty, and a Half-Elf to boot. But her demeanor was all work, her smile was fixed and her gaze said keep your hands to yourself soldier.

"Oders please, Kali, and a bucket for the pot headed fool here on the house." Ralston said with a silver tongue.

"Coming right up." Kali replied with a roll of her eyes. The last time Ralston went to be with someone he didn't have to pay first Kali was a child. Or younger.

Letting go of Hera's sleeve, Una turned to consider this newcomer.

"Well it's worth a try, pull up a seat! Rivertown elfese likely has some of the same words even so."

Signalling to the likely overworked server, Una waved them over and turned to Noza while turning the book towards her.

"What can I get for you? A drink for some preliminary consulting sound fair?"

The lady dwarf smiled, blushing, "Yes, well, I am looking for a runaway. Human girl fifteen lovely and acts before she thinks. I'm afraid just the type to be taken advantage of. Her name is Gabizi. Do you know if anyone has seen her?" Maria slid a gold piece into his hands. "Please she's a very sweet girl."

"Kali, ma'am, A Bucket with 3 cups and bread and venison stew for the three of us."

When she made it to them Samuel palmed her a gold piece.

"My name is Samuel and I understand the love of family Hoss but...can you do anything besides swamp farming and absolutely top notch swearing?"

"Because I've got no great desire to take you on a Gnoll hunt just finish off your family once and for all."

"I've literally got God on my side and I'm not guaranteed to survive taking on a Gnoll Warband."

"You understand?"

In reply to Una Emberkettle (msg # 16):

"I will accept your terms," Noza said, sitting nearby, "as at the very least I know what the words for amounts and measures are. We'll learn the rest together. The elves of Rivertown are skilled at baking, an art and science that mystifies me. It seems like you have that part covered. My name is Noza." The rogue glanced at the dwarf Ralston announcing himself. The other dwarf's story sounded like work, and she was tired, but world treks typically did not pay for themselves, and a rescue mission was cleaner work than some jobs she'd taken.

In reply to Maria (msg # 17):

Ralston sighed. He looked side to side and then seemed to choose his words, "Them that does such things locally are known to me, but in all honesty I could never cotton to such business. I'm an honest thief and fence. I am sorry, but, have you read the new bulletin. The author of that seems to quite a power. Maybe working for her would help you. Powerful friends can make life easier after all."

(OOC: It came up in a PM that there was some confusion about the bulletin posted. I left in the introduction and didn't really think to re-post it here. My bad.)

The bulletin on the all of the 'Ye Olde Bucket of Beer' had only been up for a day and was already the talk of all Vandis. The town was simply abuzz with rumors and speculations. Many a merchant had already begun to stock iron rations, arrows, and bear grease to keep the mosquitoes away...

The taproom of the Olde Bucket was filled with curious types of all races. They drank, well, buckets of beer and spoke loudly stating their thoughts on the bulletin. All considered the employment offered for the payment was handsome indeed. But, who was this Morganna Druall?

The bulletin had come in the night. No one from Artur the bar dwarf to Elsie the serving girl who worked the early morning hours had seen anyone pin the parchment to the bulletin board. Yet, there it was.

My name is Morganna Druall, Mistress of Shadow and Fire, and I have need strong willed and stout hearted adventurous people who have the daring to undertake a quest of great importance. You will sign into a contract of employment with Myself in the pursuance of stolen property that I sorely desire to be returned. Be warned the task at hand is fraught with perils and will require travel into the wilds, confrontations with both beast and foes, and will take considerable devotion to complete. For those in My employee I can guarantee the payment of one platinum piece per day, equipage and travel expenses, lodgings when reporting to me, and death benefits paid the beneficiary of your choice. Please apply in person on the fifteenth day of the month beginning in the morning hours after breakfast. I will interview all who apply in person and select those whom I feel most capable of achieving my goals.

Jaylan bit back a sharp reply. Some people could use a good cuff on the back of the head to straighten them out, and teach them manners. But Dwarves were hard-headed and hard to intimidate. And he seemed to be well liked. So the bounty hunter wisely held his tongue.

"Well then, I exchanged some words with old Howa. She told me you were the Dwarf to see if I wanted to know the names and faces of those with bounties on their head. I've been on the road for some time, and I'd like to get to work as soon as I've had a good meal, if you please," Jaylan replied, trying to make his natural gravel sound less rough, and thus more pleasant.



"...Thank you, good Dwarf. If times are peaceful, and you are blessed to be bereft of criminals, I'll take any mercenary work you might in the area..." the bounty hunter said through a smile that looked more like a grimace, after he had taken a steadying breath.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:50, Wed 05 Jan 2022.

@ Brother Samuel

Yprish leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Dunno where you come from, mister, but I been down in the bayou long as you like. I know where the gators stuff their kills to tenderize 'em, I know you don't put that tree moss in yer hair lest you want chiggers or a copperhead along with it, and I knows you don't wear that," he gestured at Samuel's chainmail, "or you gonna get a face-to-face with the bayou's underside, Godly hootin' in your corner or no.

"But," Yprish pointed a muscular arm to the spear he'd leaned by the door and gave a grin, "I reckon I also know that you stick the pointy end in the gnoll before you gut 'em, skin 'em, and mount 'em."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Wed 05 Jan 2022.