Redemption: The Preludes (IC post)

[Harding]

Roland Weisley

---

As Roland finished serving the liquor to everybody, including the Kobold and the bugbear, he found himself pleasantly surprised by the Kobold's civility and demeanor. It was a revelation that made him see the two newcomers in a new light. Perhaps being defensive was a healthy reflex, but as Aly had mentioned days ago, they had to learn to trust others. They couldn't let their bad experiences ruin their positive outlook on the world - there was still good everywhere, sometimes in very unexpected places or people. This experience was humbling him...

After serving the bugbear last, Roland decided to sit at his side, unsure of how to start a conversation with him. The bugbear seemed silent and reclusive, but Roland was determined to show him kindness and make him feel accepted among them. "Hello there," he began, offering a warm smile. "I'm Roland Weisley. So, you mentioned you've never met your kin before? Would it be prying if I asked about the circumstances? Were you not raised by other Bugbears?"

As he spoke, Roland made a small gesture of camaraderie, pouring a drink for the bugbear and offering it to him with a friendly nod. Meanwhile, he glanced around the inn, noticing the rustic charm of the place and the cozy atmosphere created by the crackling fireplace. He took a moment to appreciate the simple pleasures of camaraderie and conversation, feeling grateful for the opportunity to connect with new companions in such a welcoming environment.

[Zelphas]

Torben

---

Torben's mouth twitched into a smile at the scarred human's comment, though he made sure to hide the expression quickly. Apparently, most people didn't much like his teeth. "How could we ever be sure?" He said, mostly to himself, but loud enough for those around him to hear. "Have you seen the world?"

He took the offered mug hesitantly from the human that smelled like iron, trying (and most likely failing) to hide the way that his nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell of the beverage within. Bread already smelled a bit unpleasant to him; this "liquor" stuff smelled like bread someone had left to rot and then melted into liquid form. Of all the things that mystified him about the world outside the monastery, the widespread love of this kind of drink always caught him off guard. Wine tasted better and did the same job just as well... Or so some of the older monks used to say when they thought none of the children were around to hear them. Torben didn't know about the second part, but he agreed that the consecrated wine certainly smelled better.

Still, the drink was given as an offer of kindness, so Torben pretended to take a sip from the foul drink before setting it aside. "Torben," he gave his name in response, before carefully considering the question. "I was raised in a monastery. A human monastery, mostly; there were a few other norm--a few other races there. Dwarves, half-elves, a couple of halflings, a half-orc or two. A gnome tinkerer would visit in the spring, sometimes--I never met him, but I saw him from a distance. I didn't meet the visitors; the monks said that the children would only bother them, but now I wonder if it was me."

He pauses, toying with the last bits of meat on his plate. "As far as I know, I was left at the monastery--and not by bugbears. I don't know who or where I came from." The next sentence seems to come out as a mild surprise, even to himself. "I never really thought to ask. I was raised in the monastery, so that's where I should be... at least, that's what I thought."

[Civit]

Aly Treltor

---

"Tinker gnomes fascinate and scare me at the same time. There are a few shops in Waterdeep that have gnomish auto-abacuses. I haven't seen it, but I hear there is a dock crane in Vilhoon that uses steam instead of horses and pullys. Totally ingenious."

"On the other hand, I've met 3 tinkers gnomes. And they didn't have 27 fingers amongst them."

Then directly to Torben, "which monastary? Is it one we would know?"

[PixCO]

Yopine Quietclock

---

Yopine allowed the steam-work mention to pass without comment. Her opinion hadn't been asked, after all, and her father would have broken down in laughter over the '27 fingers'. They were lucky to have retained even that many. Steam was just... Stupid.

It wasn't just that it was slow and wasteful, being maybe the single least efficient way to demonstrate the work potential of heat expansion, but it was also insanely dangerous. The amount of pressure needed in order to get a decent effort out of a single steam engine was enough to make a sane engineer retire. Big holes were bad enough if they were made fairly quickly, but it was the small holes that were hard to forget.

Her dad had demonstrated for her as to why. He used a small boiler that could take a lot of pressure for short periods of time and put just a pinhole into one side. The jet of steam that escaped couldn't be seen in the mass of vapor, but it could be heard. It could also easily shear through any broom bristles pushed into its path, and the broom handle itself with genuine effort.

Any Gnome fingers that managed to locate something like that before the broom wouldn't be easy to find. And tricky to put back right even if the finger you found actually did turn out to be the same one that had been lost. That was madness!

She remembered her father had been working on a system where the heat from the fuel itself could be used as motive expansion against the same piston mechanism as steam only without the boiling-tons-of-water nonsense. First with explosive pellets, and then with liquid when he realized gravity itself was too slow to feed the things as fast as they would be needed.

There had been designs for liquid fuel, converted to aerosol through the use of hydraulic pressure and really small nozzles, which was then mixed with air and ignited somehow... But even that was scrapped as inefficient and almost certainly toxic in almost every operation.

The last she could recall, he'd been doing some cool things with magnets. It was around then that Svirfette had discovered thieves, however, and she quickly lost interest in the project.

Steam though? She shook her head as she thought about it. No, steam was ridiculously dangerous. Good luck to any sucker on "tighten that bolt" duty around that stuff.

The little Svirf' began to struggle to remove her backpack, having realized how long the damn thing had been there. It was still nearly full even after the long hike, and it was starting to nag at her spine in the way that sleeping in the corner of a bar couldn't yet manage. It was heavy, and now it was heavy in the middle of the table rather than on her back.

"So are we sticking around here or what? I could use a bath as much as I want that food I can smell. Quit teasing a girl and let's get to the good stuff if we've arrived, okay?"

Edited March 24 by PixCO (see edit history)

[Rumrunner]

Rillik d'Sivis

---

The conversations floated mostly outside Rillik's awareness, the comment on tinker gnomes made her think of how others made sweeping generalizations as well. Tinker gnomes loose digits and what they make are dangerous, bards sleep with more partners than there are stars in the sky, bugbears are sneaky and murderous, and so on. Svirfette's question triggered a rumble in her tummy so loud that Mist was affronted, stood up with his butt in her face, until Rillik nudged him off her lap. Beer was not cutting it, if anything it was unsettling her stomach, though it was loosening her inhibitions some, after she'd near drained a second pint in relatively short order.

"Seconded Svirfette, I'm starving! We've been on the road for ages, do you think they can prepare a spread for us? Maybe a pheasant and a roast, some fresh bread and butter, mashed potatoes and gravy, some ketjap on the side, taunth for desert?!?"

 

[Civit]

Aly Treltor

---

"How about seeing if they have thalimvur?" Looking to the gnomes with a mischievous look of "don't spoil the surprise of what is in it". "I've had it at festivals. Some of the best foods come from the small cookcarts that travel the festival circuit. Drow death cheese toasties, orcish Orzotga's smoked bear, Sembian roasted mooncorn with chili powder... all so good."

"Ok now I'm hungry."

[Wizard of the Coat]

Ragz

---

Rags took, or perhaps mistook, the talk of platters and the sharing of food as a signal that the sharing of drinks and stories was at an end. Besides, he had no money for meals. To the older of the two gnomes--who'd extended the invitation that had brought him here--he offered, "Ragz is grateful for the sharing of ale and stories."

And then, shifting his gaze to include both gnomes, he added, "May a gnome's journey bring new vistas, new acquaintances, and new eyes with which to see them." Save for the kobold absence of pronoun, the words were a common farewell attributed to Shaundakul and his followers.

The kobold rose from his seat. Picking up his tankard, which remained mostly full, he move to join Torben at the more remote spot from which the bugbear conversed.

[Basil_Bottletop]

Wyckmere Mirth

---

 

Wyck nodded at all of the important parts of the bugbear's recounting of his youth. It had been a simple and quick tale, but the unspoken words that lie between were the important bits. The parts most important to the beastly man had been left unsaid and with a rightful wariness around strangers. He'd been right to hesitate too, as Wyck now knew all too well. The beastman and the kobold had been invited for an extended conversation with a chance group coming across them in the road. There was no obligation for anything but the shallowest of revelations.

The young man tapped his index finger on the lip of his mug. On the third tap, he slipped the pad of his finger around the entire enclosed circle before returning to the rhythmic tap. The pattern continued for a few more rounds before he caught himself and stopped it entirely. Talk of food or other plans helped pull him from himself, as did realizing the kobold had left his table and come closer to collect his bugbear companion.

For the first time since their introduction. Wyck gave the kobold a proper look. They were a peculiar looking lot to be sure, but this one was no more or less remarkable than any others he'd seen in his short life. It was true what D'Artegenon had said once though; a tribe of them could be a formidable and intimidating lot if found at the wrong time of day. But, Wyck supposed, that could be true of most gangs of people.

"D'Artegenon would like to buy you a meal." Wyck claimed, his normal bout of confidence still very much intact. "Iff'n you have the time for one."

 

[PixCO]

Yopine Quietclock

---

"Drow Death what now?" That was one she'd never encountered before.

"Heldapan has been on a 'dark chocolate and blackberry' fad for years when it comes to Drow. I'd love to see what someone did with cheese to earn a name like that."

The city-girl was in full agreement when it came to vendor food. Eating on the run made everything taste better. That went double if the food had first been impaled on a stick. She considered her belongings and their companions. They had a first-class girl's night in the making.

"The boys are keeping themselves busy, looks like. An' someone mentioned exploring? How about we get checked in, cleaned up, and see what's going on around here. We probably won't find mashed potatoes or gravy, but I'll bet it'll be more fun."

 

[Wizard of the Coat]

Ragz

---

It took Ragz a moment to realize the fire-marked human had addressed him. The kobold's reaction was welcoming, pleased and intrigued by the human who referred to himself by name--as the kobolds of Ragz' clan did. "Ragz has time and gratitude for a meal. A fire-marked man is generous."

The kobold took a seat at Torben's table.

[Zelphas]

Torben

---

The other human's comment about gnome tinkerers and fingers surprised Torben; he didn't realize that traveling as a tinker was such a dangerous job. Her question was answered thoughtlessly, "I don't think so; it's months east of here, near a little river and a town that the monks sometimes called 'Mionoer'; they said it was how the locals pronounced 'the middle of nowhere'. The biggest city nearby was... Taquasma, I think? I'm being unfair to the monks there, though; it's a good monastery, dedicated to Ilmater, with loyal and helpful monks and the best Abbot--"

Memories of the last few weeks before his departure came back to Torben: the Abbot's peaceful death, the new Abbot from far away, the mission to enter the cloister, the instruction to tell no one his affiliation, the warnings from his friends... Torben paused, his voice growing heavy as he told a lie by omitting certain sections of the truth. "At least, he was. He passed away, a few months back--old age--and the new Abbot... well, I left shoftly after."

His mood lowered by the memories, Torben nearly looked for an excuse to turn down the offered meal, but Ragz's acceptance stilled his tongue. He gave a short, gruff nod in response, turning back to his meal. When Ragz sat, Torben pushed the plate slightly towards his friend; he was still used to communal meals, both from the monastery and from their time on the road, and so he let the kobold grab anything he found tasty if he wanted it.

Edited March 26 by Zelphas (see edit history)

[Wizard of the Coat]

Ragz

---

In response, Ragz pushed the still-mostly-full tankard of ale slightly toward Torben. The bugbear knew Ragz preferred water or tea, but would drink ale when offered.

The kobold examined Torben's plate with keen interest. His hand came up holding one of his tiny throwing knives, which he used to cautiously spear a bitesized chunk of potato slathered in a creamy brown sauce. He popped it into his mouth and chewed slowly, closing his eyes and savoring the tastes and sensations in his mouth.

His mouth empty, he spoke quietly. "Does a bugbear know what became of a human boy who broke the spreading curse of sickness?" Ever the optimist, Ragz preferred to think of Barlow as the boy who stopped the cursed sickness, rather than the boy who'd spread it around in the first place.

[Civit]

Aly Treltor

---

Aly wracked her brain why Taquasma sounded familiar. Was it from geography class? No. East of here... Had she heard it from River's stories of Kara-Tur? No. East meant Mulholland, the Hordelands, Semphar.... that's it! History class!

"I don't know Mionoer, but I heard Taquasma during our semester on the Imskari. I'm sorry to hear about your Abbott, he sounds like he was a good man."

 

[Basil_Bottletop]

Wyckmere Mirth

---

 

The kobold's response carried two edges on the same blade. Wyck reflexively touched his right jawline just briefly before forcing himself to put his hand back on his mug. It was a brief gap in his façade, and it caused his friendly smile to slip away.

When the kobold took a seat, the smile slowly returned. He watched as the bugbear began to share his plate with the kobold and Wyck shook his head at the immediate confusion. "No, no. D'Artegenon will get you your own food." Wyck wasn't sure if he was heard in the crossing of conversations, but he didn't look to repeat himself. With the kobold seated again, he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do.

Pressured by curiosity to find something more meaningfully interesting to pass his time while they waited, Wyck turned to Roland. "The Trader's Outpost at the end of the road probably has oils, but the owner was maybe the nosiest dwarf I've ever met. If you go there, know that he'll tell the next person to walk in the door what you bought and where you were going with it."

 

[Harding]

Roland Weisley

---

Roland fell into silence once more, the conversations swirling around him now coalescing into a single focused group. As he listened, he realized just how much he didn't know about the world beyond his own experiences. Taquasma, Imskari, Kara-Tur—all these references to places and cultures he had never encountered before. He couldn't help but regard Aly with a mix of awe and anxiety, feeling dwarfed by her wealth of knowledge. How he wished he had been given the opportunity to learn and explore instead of the shit he did before...

His thoughts took a somber turn, and he quickly downed his schnapps, refilling his glass almost mechanically. However, his brooding was interrupted by Wyckmere, who offered a snippet of local wisdom. "The Trader's Outpost at the end of the road probably has oils, but the owner was maybe the nosiest dwarf I've ever met. If you go there, know that he'll tell the next person to walk in the door what you bought and where you were going with it."

Roland's mood shifted instantly, a chuckle escaping him at the amusing anecdote. "Is that so?" he replied, his tone lightening. "Sounds like a place with more gossip than goods. Thanks for the heads-up, Wyck. I'll keep that in mind, especially since I was just about to stock up on supplies for my equipment maintenance, and oil was definitely on my list. Much appreciated." He glanced around the inn, savoring the warm ambiance and the animated chatter of their group. Despite the twists and turns of their journey, moments like these reminded him of the simple pleasures of camaraderie and shared experiences.

Suddenly, he leaned in toward Wyck with a conspiratorial air. "You mentioned the possibility of finding a more... lively establishment later. Any place particular in mind? I could use a way to blow off some steam, but I'd prefer to keep all my fingers intact—no offense to the gnomes and their inventive methods of doing so." The last part was added with his usual cunning smile.

Edited March 27 by Harding (see edit history)