Three figures sit at a table inside what serves as the public house for Winterhaven. There is a crowd of villagers in the main room of Wrafton's Inn as usual, drinking and eatting the usual fare offered by Salvana Wrafton. The three figures at the table seem to be conversing, yet cannot be heard over the general commotion of the Inn.
Marla of the Great Church sits at the table with her gathered help. An older man with a long beard and the look of infinite knowledge in his eyes, and a stout young Halfling dressed in full platemail, strong willed and brave.
The young priest of Pelor speaks with the two companions.
"I am glad to have found such wiling aid in these times of trouble." Marla clears her throat "Now I know this is abrupt but I do not have any time to waste. Pelor bless you for being so helpful. Now, according to my research, I have found proof of an evil cult in the area. I have been studying the history and documented activity of of several different Demons and Death Cults, and this has lead me to believe that there is cult activity in the area."
Marla, pauses, almost waiting for a response, but then continues uninterrupted, lowering her voice.
"I have heard from witnesses that saw a small group of death cultists travel towards our town almost a year ago. I have since learned that the head of this group is a dangerous and twisted priest of Orcus, the lord of the Undead. I am afraid that this man, Kalarel, has setup a secret cult in the area and has begun conducting horrific, unholy ceremonies."
The priestess stares the two companions straight in the eye as she continues.
"I must as of you to try and determine if there is any death cult activity in the area, and, if you find that there is, do whatever is nessecary to stamp it out."
Marla turns to the companions, looking for acceptance and to answer any questions they may have.
Demons? Orcus?! ... Ioun, you have lead me astray. Is your will to have us meet only in the afterlife? Wilam tried hard to maintain a solemn demeanor, but he was nearly ready to laugh at the proposal set before him. "Sister, you surely cannot expect a party of two will be force enough to stifle a cult of the Lord of the Undead."
Marla recognizes Wilam's concern.
"Aye, that is probably true Wilam, yet you are the only two able-bodied people in Winterhaven at the moment. I am willing to pay you 250 gold for your efforts, and will leave it up to you to recruit anyone else you feel you might need."
This is insane. I can't do this... Wilam, you're not cut out for this kind of work. ... But 250 gold! We could hire a few mercenaries for 100, split half to Francis, that's 75 in your pocket... but the demons! No, there's too much risk. Throwing yourself into a cult! It's absurd! "Sister," Wilam lowers his brow and shifts in his chair, "I may need to ask you for more time to consider this venture. I will be honest and say my concerns about an encounter with demons troubles me greatly." The aging man sits back in his chair and runs his fingers through his unkempt beard. "You've piqued my interest, however, so perhaps you could provide us with more detail. What can you tell me of Kalarel?"
"I do not know more than his vile name. Perhaps there would be others in town who knew more about the activities of a cult in the area. You may have what time you need, but I cannot be certain how much time any of us have left. I am afraid that the threat of this cult may be closer to us than we are aware of." You can see a hint of fear in the priestess' eyes.
"Pelor save us." she mumbles.
"Indeed." He turns to his companion, "What say you, Francis?"
Francis leans back in his chair. "I am interested in this inquiry," he says. "Do I understand correctly that you expect only information gathering? What do you plan to do with this information?"
"I must ask of not just information, but action to be taken against this cult if it comes to exist. These evil men cannot be allowed to practice their heresy near Winterhaven, or anywhere for that matter. They must be stopped!" Marla's voice raises up as she finishes her exclaimation. She blushes as she realizes she was yelling.
Francis folds his hands together. "You said 'according to your research.' A good place to start would be where you got your information."
Raising an eyebrow at the question, Wilam leans in closer and focuses his gaze on the woman.
Marla looks at Wilam's curious behavior.
Huffing, she responds to Francis, "Aye, I have been doing research through old tomes in Valthrun's tower if you must know."
Marla seemed a bit peturbed at not being understood clearly. She doesn't seem to be the most 'socially savvy' person you have ever met.
"There was record of another death cult that made it's home near Winterhaven about 100 years ago. I do not know if that was the same one, but from the rumors I have heard from other townsfolk, I would imagine that there would be others interested in finding anything remaining of that cult, and they might have more devious intentions than documenting history. I need you to investigate to see if you can find any true proof of cultist activity in the area, and put a stop to it if it does exist."
"Where exactly did this death cult make its home? Are there records of what became of it?"
Is she hiding something? Francis wonders. Is she trying to protect someone or something?
As she speaks, there is little indication that Marla tells lies, or is hiding anything she knows
"As the stories say, there was a cult, near where Winterhaven is today, who worshipped Orcus, trying to bridge the gap between our world and his. In the depths of a dungeon, they performed their rituals, trying to form a rift into the Shadowfell. The Empire of Nerrath sent out hundreds of leigonnaires to rid the land of the cult. They were able to destroy the undead, seal the rift the cult had created, and built a Keep to watch over the location, containing the threat of the Rift."
Marla pauses.
"The location of the Keep is beyond my knowledge. Although, some may have further information as the where it might be. This is all I can give you, as my studies pertain mostly to clerical magics and holy orders."
Francis smiles and nods. "I believe we have enough information to start the task." He looks to the right, the left, and then leans in. "For your safety, Marla, it's best that you not associate with us until we're sure there is no cult left. A secret evil may have spy-eyes everywhere."
Marla smiles back at Francis.
"You are right. I shall travel back to the rest of my order, and do not fear for my saftey on the road. Pelor watches over me. You shall not find me in Winterhaven until it is time. I hope you are fairly self-sufficient?"
Marla stands as she finishes speaking.
"I shall leave at once, I might suggest you begin finding out as much as you can from the townspeople in Winterhaven. You are bound to find a clue somewhere."
With that, Marla pushes in her chair, and exits Wrafton's Inn.
Francis looks at Wilam in the eyes and speaks in Elven: "Marla wouldn't ask this of us if she had a mere hunch, so we should assume that her suspicions are correct and that anyone is a potential spy, even those we choose to hire. Asking about the keep may be what we can use as a way to investigate this cult without raising awareness that there's an investigation. Make it sound like we’re naïve adventure-seekers.”
He jumps down to the floor, places his hand on the table palms down. “I can go to the market square, the Smithy, and the Warrior Guild; you ask around here in the Inn and possibly check in on Bairwin in his shop. We’ll meet up back here when our shadows grow long. D'accorde?"
With a nod of approval, Wilam replies,*Elven* "D'accorde, ami. I believe I know exactly the person who will be able to answer our questions." Turning back to the now empty table, he adds, *Common* "I'll head out as soon as I've finished this ale." At the prices they charge at this establishment, it would be criminal not to finish your drink. But relax, old Wilam, you're but a few days worth of detective work away from not having to worry about the amount of money you pay for a meal.
Wilam sits for a few minutes, pondering the offer from the young cleric. He really has no idea what he would do if there truly was a band of cultists at large. With any luck, they'll be holed up in a cave somewhere and we can be rid of them by simply conjuring a boulder to seal them within. And Orcus... he simply can't get Orcus out of his mind. I'm certainly damned if I don't, the same as if I do. Bless you, Ioun... in your wisdom you've lead me, once again, to a crossroads where all paths lead to the same peril.
Standing to his feet, he gathers up the empty mugs and makes his way to the bar counter and waits to catch Salvana's attention. When she is close, he leans in and speaks softly, "Hello again. Your ale is extraordinary. It has a kick to it that you just don't find all too often." He smiles, tugging on his beard, hoping he hadn't been too enthusiastic. "I'm a traveling... historian, if you will, and I've come to Winterhaven to research an old rumor about a Keep that was once built nearby. Do you know of such a place?"
Salvana smiles as Wilam approaches the bar. Nodding at his compliment.
She listens intently as Wilam explains his reason for being in Winterhaven, and the normally quiet woman responds,
"I am sorry Wilam, I do not have much knowledge other than what few rumors I get to overhear while working my Inn here. Might I recommend asking Valthrun? He is the local sage of the town, and might know a great deal more than I. But your compliments are always welcome."
Salvana goes back to wiping down the bar.
The innkeeper looks up from her cleaning duties after a second, and calls to Wilam.
"Actually, come to think of it, I do remember hearing about a Keep northeast of the village. Yeah...Not too far from Winterhaven up in the Cairngorms. But no one goes that way. It's just too dangerous! Monsters of all sorts I hear! Ghosts, vampires, nothing anyone who values their life would get anywhere near. But like I said, Valthrun probably knows more."
Salvana, content that she helped the old wizard, turns and heads into a room behind the bar.
"I see," Wilam nods thoughtfully. "I was actually just on my way to find Valthrun. He seems to have a reputation about such things."
Glancing nervously over his shoulder, as if to catch an eaves-dropper, Wilam smiles and says, "Ah! Probably stories to scare the children. Perhaps I'll pay a visit in the morrow and see if I can find some rubble." He turns to leave but turns back and heads to the room where Salvana had just disappeared into. Calling into it, he asks, "Say, would you be so kind to change a gold piece for some silver?" He waits patiently as Salvana returns to the cashbox and exchanges his gold coin for a stack of silver. Snatching the stack, he leaves two of the coins at the counter and winks at Salvana. "Good day, my dear."
Stepping outside, Wilam rubs his eyes and scans the horizon for Valthrun's tower. Finding it, he takes his time walking to the base of the structure. It will be good to be around some books again. Wilam, you be careful not to mess this up. We can't afford to be denied access to the only apparent store of knowledge in this forsaken land. Wilam gains a spring in his step as he begins to imagine what secrets Valthrun's tomes and scrolls may contain. After the short walk, Wilam arrives at the base of the large tower and studies the door.
The Tower of Valthrun is obviously the highest building in Winterhaven. Standing five-stories, making it a giant next to even the walls of the town.
Wilam approaches the building, studying the fine wood carvings of the door.
He doesn't notice anything of overly magical nature,although the hinges do seem to be a bit too clean for their age. Wilam finds a few carvings you recall from a history tome that mark this entire tower to be over 300 years old.
The door swings easily open without a sound as the wizard steps into the first floor of the tower.
Wilam looks around the room silently. He's not sure if he's trespassing or if this is a public area.
The entryway into the tower is bare, not including the layers of dust covering the floor, showing the exact footprints of Valthrun's entering and exiting the tower.
The footprints seem to go straight from the doorway up the stairs.
There are two doors on each side of the entryway, and a stone staircase leading up to the second floor.
Wilam cautiously follows the footprints up the stairs and pauses for a moment when he reaches the doorway. He listens intently for a second and decides to knock.
There is a resounding echo on Wilam's knock on the door. The door pushes open slightly upon contact, dim light coming in through the slit windows of the barren second floor.
Slowly, Wilam pushes the door open. He peers into the room before entering. Seeing it empty, he moves in and continues to follow the path in the dust.
Wilam begins to wonder whether or not the tower is even inhabited at all. Security certainly doesn't seem to be a concern.
The trail leads Wilam through yet another empty floor of the tower, upon reaching the door to the fourth floor, he hears someone working inside.
At last... a sign of life. I hope the hike up all those stairs was worth it. Oh, Wilam, you shouldn't complain about a little excersize. Taking a second to prepare himself, Wilam gives himself a quick look-over and nervously adjusts his robes. He quietly clears his throat before knocking three times.
There is no response from inside the room. Whomever is inside must be enveloped in whatever they are working on.
Hmm... I suppose getting his attention will require a little more effort. Wilam closes his eyes and concentrates. Raising his hand to knock, he makes the knocking motion, but his hand never touches the door. However, with each dip of his knuckles the sound of a fist banging on a wooden door erupts in the stone hallway.
*Harumph!* An older man can be heard inside the room. He sounded startled.
"Yes? Yes? What what?" He calls out. The sound of a chair can be heard moving across the floor.
The door cracks open and you see a man, older than any other human you have ever met, standing in the doorway.
"Oh!" the man exclaims "I wasn't expecting company, but then again, can you ever EXPECT company?" His pitiful attempt at a joke is just that. Pitiful.
"Come in, come in. Please. I was just working on copying some very interesting rituals I found in an old tome."
Inside the room are bookselves as far as the eye can see. The man's worktable is near the doorway, but there is no chair to be found anywhere in the unexpectedly giant room.
"What is it that I can do for you, young man?"
The befuddling old man stands there with his head cocked to the side.
Wilam's eyes widen at the site of the book-covered walls. This is extraordinary! What wealth of treasure must be contained here... "Oh! Ahh, I am Wilam... I'm a scholar and I've been told you could help me with a little... quest... I've been working on." Wilam's eyes constantly are drawn back to the books. Concentrate, Wilam! Concentrate! You didn't come here for books. "I've been trying to find out some information about an old keep that used to reside near Winterhaven... to the northeast, as I'm told."
"Aye aye the old Keep in the Cairngorm Peaks. It has been there for quite some time as I recall. What of it?" Valthrun seems to constantly be elsewhere in his mind, yet also focuses on the conversation at hand.
"I can see you're busy and I have no mind to waste your time so I'll get straight to the point. You see I've been tasked with investigating the very ruins of which you speak." Wilam finds himself speaking much faster than usual, chaining the entire explanation into a single breath. "However, I fear they may be much too perilous for one such as myself. If you have any information about the dangers that may lie within, I would be most thankful." Breathe Wilam! Catch your breath! Why must you ramble like a fool? He manages to take a deep breath before continuing at a normal pace. "Some of the townsfolk have hinted that a certain amount of evil is associated with the place. But nearly all of them defer to your knowledge on the subject."
Valthrun raises an eyebrow at the 'fact' that the townsfolk have mentioned his knowledge of the Keep.
"I am finding it very difficult to believe that any of the townsfolk sent you to me regarding such. What kind of a fool do you take me for, talking about ancient evils hidden within with a group so easily driven into fright?"
Valthrun is obviously irritated.
"You would be a fool to traverse into such a place. That is all I will say."
He might be a bit scatter-brained, but the overly intelligent sage doesn't take being duped lightly.
Wilam realizes it was a mistake to misrepresent the facts, but admitting it at this point would further clam up the old man. He ignores Volthrun's attempt to end the conversation, "Then you know of it's danger. What is it about that place that is so terrible that nobody dares to even speak of it? Has fear so gripped your tongue, as well?"
Valthrun gives pause to his assesment of this intellectual individual.
"Hrmmm..." Valthrun chews his lip.
"Fine. I will tell you what I know. Long ago, followers of Orcus made their home in a location north of Winterhaven, well before the village was even built. There in the depths of a dungeon, they began creating a rift into the realm of the Shadowfell, connecting one of Orcus’s unholy Shadowfell sites to the world. Skeletons, zombies, and fouler creatures flooded through the rift into the light of day. The empire of Nerath dispatched legionnaires to eliminate the threat. The empire’s soldiers destroyed the undead, sealed the opening, and built a keep to watch over the location and contain the threat. There such a keep still stands, guarding the site of the rift, locked, yet still alive."
Valthrun takes a deep breath.
"This is all I know."
Wilam pauses for a moment to consider the information and how it compared to the information from the priest. After a moment, the pieces begin to take shape and Wilam shudders at his conclusion. If what he says is true, a great, evil power may be lying unguarded in that keep. What's more, if the death cultists Marla was referring to are truly active in the area, there is no doubt they would be found attempting to gain access to the portal.
"If the keep is abandoned, what would stop someone from gaining access to the portal? Mind you, I do not seek this knowledge for my own ends... No, we fear some great evil may be trying to access the power of that ancient portal."
"The keep has been long forgotten by all but a few select scholars. I would doubt anyone else knows even the whereabouts of the keep anymore. What few records still exist pertaining to the keep reference it to be North of Winterhaven, but then again, many more stories describe evils originating from the south of the town. You do not seem to be the evil sort, or powerful enough to summon the likes of Orcus into this world. But I am not sure there is much else I am able to assist you with."
Valthrun smiles lightly at Wilam.
How many scholars? All it takes is one of them to release their ancient secrets to the wrong person. Who else have you informed of the keep's history? Wilam wants to ask more questions, but feels the resistance. Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Wilam decides it would be best if he stopped interrogating the old sage. "Thank you, sir. You have brought clarity to my research. Perhaps our paths will cross again... I would like very much to explore the secrets you've captured in these tomes. Alas, I fear I won't be available for such things for quite some time."
Wilam gazes directly into Valthrun's eyes and gives a deliberate nod of respect. Turning to the door, he adds, "May Ioun's blessings find you, this day." And may she sustain you until the day I return... be it for more questioning, or for an indulgence in your library.
He makes his way down the tower, being sure to close each door as he passed through it. He imagined Valthrun counting the door slams, making sure Wilam hadn't stayed. Wilam, you old fool... you're much too paranoid and you think yourself much too important. Valthrun cares more for the worms in the dirt than does for you. Hah!
Satisfied with the information he had uncovered, he decided to head back to the inn to wait for Francis.
As Wilam exits the tower, night has just fallen. Windows glow from candles on the inside, and only the occasional villager walks through the peaceful streets. As he enters the inn, he sees Francis already sitting at a table, two plates full of hot food set before him.
Francis hardly waits for Wilam's response before he nods and walks out the door. He shields his face from the day's light until his eyes adjust. He doesn't even have to look to find Winterhaven's market square, though, as the noise from those selling and buying are loud and clear from the Inn's door.
The booths are set up around a semicircle that Francis is not standing in. He walks south until he can see most of them and searches for venders who, by their and their wares, may know something pertinent about the area.
There are carts and wagons galore as you enter the Market Square. Farmers are selling produce, Vegetables and some fruits line their stands, Hunters sell smoked meats, villagers sell their crafts...everything you would expect to see in a general Market.
Except for one. A young Elven maiden stands beside a small cart covered in wildflowers. Although there are several other elves in Winterhaven, this young woman stands out from the rest, a youthful, friendly twinkle in her eye.
Francis greets the maiden in Elven as he walks over to her cart, “Good day, fair lady.” He then switches to common: “This is quite an impressive assortment of flowers you have here. Tell me, did you pick them yourself? I’m only asking because I’m curious about the wilderness in the area. It seems like you’re someone who knows the area. What’s safe and what’s dangerous and all those minutiae.”
A flower falls from the cart and he picks it up before the maiden can reach for it. He smiles.
The elven maid blushes at the bold approach. She smiles as Francis asks her about her flowers.
With a soft-spoken voice, light and melodic as only a beautiful elf could have, she says "Aye kind sir, I have picked every flower you see before you by hand. It is in my nature I fear, I am in love with the wilds of the woods."
She picks up a select few wild flowers, stroking them as if they were a pet.
"Would you care to purchase some flowers for your heart's desire?"
"I believe I would.” Francis says, holding up the flower in his hand. “How much for this little treasure?”
The elf looks at the flower Francis presents to her.
"Ah, that little beauty. Two copper is all I ask for such a treasured gem of the forest. I hope your love enjoys it as much as I have."
The maiden smiles.
“A pittance for a prize,” Francis says. I’m getting nowhere with her, Francis thinks to himself. Maybe I can say something smart about this flower “What is your name, dear Lady?”
*You remember hearing of a flower that was described exactly like the one in your hand. The ranger had called it 'Vasyr Thyrdaes' which in elven means 'Parrot Flower' for its bright colors and curved, beak-like petals*
The maiden blushes at the specific question.
"My name is Delphina, what's yours kind stranger?"
"My name is Francis," Francis says. "Do you often venture into the wild to pick beauties like this Vasyr Thyrdaes?"
Delphina smiles at the elven naming of the flower. Obviously flattered.
"Aye, I do travel into the woods north of the village often to pick flowers and visit the trees. Are you fond of nature Francis?"
"Nature is the nectar that flows into us as sunshine flows into trees. Winds blow about their freshness, and the storms their energy, while cares drop off like autumn leaves."
"I often feel the urge to saunter through the forests at dusk, though I wonder if I shouldn't be careful of dangers in the area. If I were to go to the north, are there any hazards I should be concerned about? I don't want to find myself trespassing on someone's property, for example."
Delphina giggles a bit at Francis
"Famous words of Gregory Stillburg, The Silver Tongue. Although his plays are wonderful, I find the reciting of his work a bit....cheeky." Delphina smiles at the halfling's attempt of flattery.
The maiden continues, "Although there is never a lot to worry about near Winterhaven or the outlying farms, I have seen a fair amount of goblins rummaging around a ruined keep visible in the foothills of the Cairngorm. No one lays claim to the lands beyond the farms, no need to worry about trespassing."
"I thank you, good lady." Francis bows and smiles at Delphina before bidding her goodbye: "Farewell. And perhaps we shall catch each other beyond the walls of Winterhaven." He walks through the market square towards the smithy. The old smith ought to be available right now, Francis thinks to himself.
*The sun has passed its zenith for the day, and dusk approches in about an hour.*
"Farewell Francis, and may Corellon bless you on all your journeys!" Delphina smiles, and begins to tidy up her cart.
The sound of hammer on anvil can be heard from outside the Smithy. Getting closer to the shop, you can see a hardy dwarf with a soot-covered black leather apron pounding away on a peice of red hot metal. The pungent smell of ash and coals and sweat sting your nostrils as you approach.
Inside the shop you see plenty of mundane metal wares hanging on the walls, including spikes, weapons, and heavy armor.
The dwarf does not notice your entrance into the shop as he is hard at work.
Francis meanders toward a piece of armor hanging from the wall, obviously too big for him, and “accidentally” knocks it to the ground.
As the peice of armor clatters to the ground, the dwarf stops midswing and looks up at you. Still holding his hammer aloft, he huffs, lowers his tool to the anvil, dips the peice of metal into water, with a loud hiss and steam billowing off the rapidly cooling metal.
He sets the now-cool-metal on the anvil, and raises goggles off of his eyes, the soot so thick on his face that he looks like he is wearing a mask.
You can barely see his mouth through his thick beard, but you can tell by his pudgy cheeks that he is smiling at you.
"Well hey there little fella! Welcome to me shop! I doubt that peice would fit'ya, but is there somethin' I c'n help ya find?" The dwarf seems very passionate about his work.
"Yeah," Francis says. He walks toward the dwarf as he speaks, stopping when he gets about five feet away. "I've got an eye for treasure-finding. I've heard about a keep nearby to the north. I figure you might know about it. Travelers. Adventurers. They must come by here when visiting the town. Perhaps you've heard of it. Perhaps you've heard rumors about it… having loot."
"Aye, I've heard of the ol'Keep in the woods. N'er been there an' don't plan on it neither. I's got no idea 'bout loot or treasure, I tend to mind me anvil and me shop an' not go galavantin' out 'round some ol'dungeon. Sorry fella."
"Thanks for your time." Francis nods and walks out of the shop, not bothering to apologize about about the armor.
He wipes his breastplate with his right hand, and then walks southwest toward the Warrior Guild building.
The sun is just above the horizon as you reach the Warrior's Guild, the light waning from the sky.
The guild seems rather quiet for being a place of training warriors and guards.
The door to the guild is unlocked and a handful of men sit around a large table, eatting their evening meal.
One of the men stands up as Francis enters the Guild. He is a large man, towering over six feet with a thick prominent moustache adorning his face. The mace addresses the stout halfling before he can take another step into the building.
"You there, State your name and your purpose." The air is thick with importance around him, "Is there trouble brewing?"
"I am Francis II of the Starkarts Clan," Francis says. "I seek information about a keep nearby. To the north."
Francis bows his head, concentrates, and prays to Oghma:
Lord of knowledge
Binder of what is known
I pray that Your whispers,
brilliant and sparkling,
shine upon the darkness
of what I do not know:
what is the warrior's guild?
Francis finishes his prayer and a quiet voice whispers in his mind:
*This guild of Warriors is a place of training and protection. Soldiers and Guards of the village of Winterhaven inhabit this building. Captain Rond Kelfem keeps the place in check, leading the 'WInterhaven Regulars'. The guild trains the guards and villagers once a week in sword and shield skills.*
The voice fades off as Captain Rond replies to your introduction, still adamant about learning of trouble.
"Aye the old keep. No one seeks out that old Keep much, and I don't recall much about it. What is it you are trying to find?"
Thank You, Lord Oghma.
Francis smiles at the mace pointed at him. "There's no need for that. I’m a bit of a thrill seeker and thought I might take a jaunt to the old keep. Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure. I thought I’d do a bit of research, though. Have any of the Winterhaven Regulars been to the keep or heard of what lies there Beneath the surface? I hear it has some... history, too. I’m all ears."
"I am afraid not my little dungeon-delver. The Regulars here guard the town, and when they are not guarding the town, they are here, resting, until they must guard the town again. If you go I must wish you luck, I hear there are goblins galore that inhabit the old ruins now-a-days. I would keep the shield of yours close."
Captain Rond sits back down and picks up his fork.
"Is there anything else I may help you with young sire?"
"Ahh, well I thank you nonetheless. Enjoy your meal." Francis quietly bows and leaves. An evening meal sounds like the right choice, he thinks. He walks back to the Inn and pushes through the regulars to order enough food for himself and Wilam. I'm sure Wilem will also be hungry by the time he gets here. He sits down at a back table with the food and waits.
Captain Rond nods appreciatively as Francis exits the Warrior's Guild.
Night falls as he enters the inn.
The innkeeper gladly retrieves a plate of chicken and potatoes and a cup of fresh water for both Francis and Wilam. He smiles warmly as he hands the plates to Francis and goes back to work.
Pushing the door to the inn open, Wilam scans the room for Francis. Ah! There is my short friend. He notices the shining plate armor. He moves steadily through the tables and chairs and sits at the table.
Francis smiles. When Wilam comes within hearing distance, he says "Can you believe the prices at this place?"
"Prices? I honestly hadn't noticed... Is it spendy?" Wilam was greatful for the meal and suddenly became self-conscious. I should offer to pay. The halfling probably won't make a dent in all this food... and with my old appetite, we're sure to have plenty left over.
"I'll be happy to help cover the cost... you're already in my debt for having a hot meal ready on my arrival."
"Think nothing of it, my friend." Francis grabs a warm piece of bread and tears a piece off with his fingers. "Let us enjoy this meal and then discuss business matters."
"A fine plan, my friend," Wilam agrees. He starts with the bread and begins buttering it carefully. Evenly now, spread it evenly... there can't be globs of it scattered about. After finishing a few bites, he looks up to Francis and asks, "So where did your investigation take you today?"
Francis chews and swallows the piece of bread. "My investigation wasn't very fruitful. The most anyone could tell me was that the keep is in the north. Did you uncover any new information?"
Still working on his bread, "Mmm.. Yes, actually. I paid a visit to Valthrun - the old sage that lives in the tower," Wilam waves over his shoulder towards the direction he supposed the tower was in. "He's a curious old man... eccentric, you might say. Anyhow, I trust what he says, never-the-less. He says there was a cult from around 100 years ago that opened a portal to the plane of Orc- of the Demon Prince," Wilam corrects himself before he finishes uttering the name. "After a great battle, the portal was sealed and the keep was built upon it to prevent it from ever being accessed again."
He pauses and takes another bite of his bread. Be careful, old man! You are an agent of great Arcane power and cannot be flippantly throwing around words of such power... All this investigation nonsense has already taken me off my game. I shouldn't so much as even think upon such things... they have power to corrupt the mind and pull you down paths of infinite darkness.
"It seems, then, that the next step in our investigation would be to visit the keep itself. Shall we rest up tonight in the Inn and head out in the morning?"
"Yes, that sounds wonderful. Go on ahead, I would like some time to reflect before I retire... and thank you, again, for the meal." Wilam slowly continues nibbling on whats left of the food before him while he sits in silence for the next few hours. By the time he's finished, he's quite sure an investigation into the keep itself is going to be required... and he's dreading the thought. They will definitely need to get more help.
Francis leaves Wilam to his thoughts. He returns to the room he has been staying in since he got to Winterhaven. He removes his armor and clothes, prays nude for a half hour, and goes to sleep.
