The Adventure Continues...
Gavin’s Point is a port city at the juncture of the Greater Pelimore River and the Undine River; where produce and wool from the Fields, mingle with ore from the Eastern Mountains, and timber, and game from the surrounding forests, in route to the Sea of Katan and lands beyond. Here in the last bastion of Norban civilization before passing into the marshlands of the Troll Fens, Korag finds himself in the crowded common room of the River Nymph Inn.
“Get your filthy hands off her you…you damned dirty orc!” Korag growls in a believable impersonation of a drunken dwarf. “I couldn’t believe it! My whiskey swilling, foul mouthed, bewhiskered drinking partner was a woman! And not just any woman, mind you, but the Clan Chief’s daughter!” The crowd surrounding the rakish orc burst out laughing, and he throws his hands up in the air his expression one of feigned innocence. “Now I’m a little fuzzy on what I said in return…but, one thing led to another I guess. I must admit, that of all my feats of physical prowess, I count among the greatest the night that I wrestled to the ground an entire clan of drunken hill dwarves.”
“Bravo! Cheers! Tell another!” From various parts of the common room came the cries, and peals of raucous laughter. One man calls for another flagon of ale, and he claps the barbarian on the back.
Korag laughs heartily, and returns the gesture, knocking the man, rather forcefully from his sit, and sending the crowd into a fresh burst of laughter.
“Well if you insi…” Across the room Korag catches the sight of his paladin companion as he steps through the front door, his arm around the shoulders of slight looking figure wrapped in a black cloak. James looks up to meet his gaze and motioning toward the back door with a slight inclination of his head, turns and draws the stranger with him. “Ah…but it is late my friends, perhaps another time.”
A general chorus of ohs and aws, calls for more ale and stories assault the orc as he stands, among the adoring masses of inebriated, smut starved, working stiffs. But with much back slapping, drunken cheers, and enduring the occasional too friendly grope, Korag makes his way through the crowd and up the stairs toward the private dinning room on the second floor.
The River Nymph’s private dinning room overlooks the Undine, and though rarely used would not be out of place in an inner city inn in Aragarde. Polished hardwoods panel the walls, and fine porcelain from the southern lands is laid out upon the large oaken dining table. James stands at the side board, pouring a goblet of dark red wine. His shrouded guest stands silently staring out of a window.
“Any luck finding your uncle’s man?” A silent frown was the only response he was given. Korag shrugs and waits.
James takes the glass to the figure at the window, and says something that Korag can’t quite make out. The hooded figure nods, and takes the proffered refreshment in one slender, white gloved hand.
Turning back toward Korag, James shakes his head. “I followed every lead I could find, but nothing. It’s as if he just vanished.” He moves to the sideboard and pours another glass of wine, “By your question, I assume that your luck was no better.”
“Not by much; he arrived in town the day before we did, made arrangements at the inn, and then was heard speaking with a Captain Birch in the common room upon the evening of his arrival. The serving wench said he did return, assumed he’d found what he came for.”
James takes a sip of wine and nods, “I spoke with Captain Birch, but the conversation proved fruitless, save for the fact that he was reluctant to carry us to Je’Orjia, in the first place.” He sighs, “When I told him Sano was missing, he spit and swore an oath. It’s not likely that he will carry us now; even if I could find a money house willing to lend me the coin to pay him what he requested up front.” He glances over his shoulder at the figure by the window he frowns, “And three passengers will be even more expensive.”
Korag’s frowns slightly. “Three, James? Perhaps you’d like to introduce me to this addition to our party.”
James glances at Korag confused, then his eyes widen suddenly; “Oh…of course! I completely forgot.” He turns to the figure and with a slight, but gallant bow, “If I may?”
The figure, her hood pulled low, slowly turns toward James, and speaks in a low, sultry voice, “There is no need abil. The orc is known to me.”
Korag’s frown deepens as he takes a harder look at the shrouded woman. “I know that voice…” His eyes widen in surprise as she lowers her hood, revealing an ebon skinned elf maid; her face framed by snow white ringlets, and her lips curved in a crooked smile, boarding on a snarl, amethyst eyes sparkle wickedly. “By the sixth teat of Aragh…”
Before he can say another word, or the confused knight offer a protest, the drow maid spits out a word in the draconic tongue, and flinging out her left hand hurls a crackling bolt of purple lightning streaking across the room. The bolt connects squarely in the center of the orc’s chest. The force of the blow sending him flying to the far side of the room, to crash against the wall with a resounding thud.