Elendor
Lightening or flame?
A trio debating the relative merits of water and ale in Iach Celduin's future are startled by crimson flashes to the south. The bold Dale-lands commander mounts an investigation
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Iach Celduin
Game Date: January 3048
IC Time: Evening
Weather: Clear
Description: Iach Celduin
Iach Celduin is an old trading town built on the border of Mirkwood, where the Old Forest Road emerges and meets the Running River come down from the Long Lake to the northeast.
The town is on the east side of the river, in a bend as it turns to flow to the southeast, built next to a wide bridge heavy enough for large burdened wagons to safely cross. The town is fairly large, with several livery stables, stores and inns to help support the increase in traffic across the road since the death of Smaug and re-population of Erebor years before. The town also has a large contigent of soldiers from the Dale-Lands, to help guard against the predidations of orcs and other fell beasts from the woods.
Several docks stick out into the river, and barges laden with logs felled in the forest make regular runs up-river to the sawmills powered by the water fall at the base of the distant Long Lake.
Obvious exits:
Inn, Into the River, SouthEast, and West over Bridge
=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Real Time: Tue Sep 22 14:21:21 2009 MST
Dale-Lands Time:
Monday, nighttime on a clear winter's night, January 2 of 3048
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=
[Frarin(#26827)] It is well dark by this time, as winter sits over the land at its deepest point and as the new moon sheds no sliver of light. The night envelopes the village of Iach Celduin like a blanket, making the little settlement seem smaller than truly it is. And yet all around it are campfires, the clank of weapons, the rattle of armour, the edgy voices of soldier and citizen alike.
From the inn comes a dwarf, clearly armed but dressed richer and less formally than a soldier. He exits the merry little building and comes to stand leaning against a hitching post (conveniently just tall enough for him to lay his shoulder against!). A long pipe is clutchd between his teeth, but the dwarf's eyes stare sullenly to the west, into the murky blackness of what lays beyond the village.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
It is not long ere he is joined by another fellow, though between his lips no pipe rests, only a weary smile. The young lord Lorthrain strides inro view, doubtless finishing some inspection, and he catches sight of the smoking Dwarf. With a shrewd survey of the khazad the Girion lord makes his way to join him.
"Hail, Master Dwarf," he greets, smiling on despite his fatigue. "I've been told that you are Frarin, though oft will soldiers find sport in misleading their officers. Did they tell me falsely, or rightly on this score?"
The rich-dressed dwarf is not the only one of his kind out taking the air tonight. Another, Broddur, ambles round the corner of a building, his own pipe sending up only a faint wisp of smoke. From the scent of ale clinging to him, he has clearly taken to heart the injunction to free up more of the town's barrels for water. No wonder he may have needed a walk to clear his head.
His meandering takes him towards his fellow, and as he nears the dwarf grunts out a terse, "Good evening, cousin." His gaze up to the Dale-lander, and he adds, almost reluctantly, "And to you, sir. If you can call it good. Wind out there fair takes the skin off the bones - what's left of it." As he nears, one can see that one side of his face is puckered by red, shiny scars and - worse - one side of his beard is gone. He tries to keep that side turned away. Noting the direction of Frarin's glance, he adds, alarmed, "What? See something out there?"
[Frarin(#26827)] The dwarf glances to the side at the sound of another approaching, two in fact, for the he notes the presence of both man and fellow dwarf and straightens when both seem set on joining him. At first the richly-dressed dwarf only narrows his eyes at the man, but he nods cordially at Broddur, muttering a return "Good evening" before looking back to the man. His reply is a second in coming. "They tell you rightly, on this occasion, my lord," returns Frarin, noting the Daleman's attire. "I am Frarin son of Forli." A short bow to the young lord finishes with a glance at the half-bearded Broddur.
"Hm? Nay, nothing. Tis the new moon, I do never feel at ease on such nights, in such a place."
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
"Then perhaps I come not a moment too soon," replies Lorthrain, his eyes flitting between both Dwarves. "I am Lorthrain of Girion, of Dale," he introduces himself for both their benefit. "And I am glad to hear it, Master Frarin," he smiles. "I trust that Thari has spoken to you of our plan regarding the barrels of ale? It is an urgent work, but seeing as we would need to empty them first we may yet have a chance to chase away the chill of the wind, no?"
Smiling still he looks then to Broddur once more, a calm eye surveying the fellow's facial scars, but mentioning them not.
Broddur does not seem relieved by Frarin's answer. He continues to squint out into the dark for a moment, before nodding. "Never did understand why some folk build in wood instead of good solid stone."
Looking back to his companions he adds, taciturn, "And I don't understand why some folk feel the need to waste barrels of perfectly good ale. If it comes to seige, ale's as good a drink as any. And if there's a-burning," his hand comes up to stroke a piece of beard that is no longer there, "then there's the river." His brows jut out mulishly.
Lorthrain's survey, perhaps, recalls him to good manners, and he gives the Dale-man a stiff bow. "Broddur son of Brandur at your service and your kin's," he mutters gruffly.
[Frarin(#26827)] "Ah, you are the young lord Thari spoke with," Frarin replies, nodding. "Well met, Lorthrain of Girion." The silversmith looks to Broddur when the other dwarf addresses Lorthrain, but it is not long before he is returning his attention to the Daleman, nodding again, though this time as if in agreement with Broddur.
"I am inclined to agree with Master Broddur, Master Lorthrain. It is true that the company of merchants I lead is none too pleased at the prospect of losing their stock of ale, but that is not what concerns me. You wish a supply of water, for what? To drink or to stay the spread of fire?"
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
"For either, or both," answers the Barding, and he steps back a pace to face them both at once. "That same river you mention, Master Broddur, may yet be witheld from us. This town is not a stronghold, and we should have a terrible time holding it as one. The stronghold, is underground, dug for the very purpose of keeping the Enemy at bay and trying his patience. Under the earth, where no doubt you would be a great deal more comfortable that I, you may be glad of that water indeed."
He looks then back to Frarin, and nods appreciatively. "I understand your merchants' concern, and have offered to pay the worth of the ale so as not to ruin their profit. But I would also hope," says he with a more meaningful glint in his eye, "that in times of trial each fellow would offer what they have for the betterment of all. It is not for the safety of the Dale-lands alone that we guard its borders."
The winter night is chill, and the lack of a moon makes every little sound from the military camps that surround Iach Celduin seem magnified several times. Within the town the lanterns of the Inn hold the dark at bay, and in their wan light three figures can be seen lingering by one of the hitching posts: two short and one tall.
The look that Broddur shoots the Girion lord from under his bushy brows can only be described as 'forbidding'. "Show me these caverns of yours and I'll be comfortable there now. With ale to drink I'll be more so. And it's the river you crave, why not bring it there too? My pick needs some excercise in readiness for caving in goblin skulls."
[Frarin(#26827)] "No dwarf in my company will accept a single coin of repayment," Frarin says gruffly, frowning at Lorthrain. "I have seen to that. No, my point is not with the loss of profit, as I have said. I agreed to lead this company expressly on the grounds that all within it should come prepared for battle, not trade. I know very well what might come from what we do, or fail to do, here."
He draws long on his pipe, sending a haze of smoke about his person as he exhales. "No, I am concerned rather that it might be folly to consume the contents of these barrels you desire so hastily, at such a time." Frarin gives something of a sarcastic half-smile. "No dwarf will simply pour it away, yet to drink it all risks putting both man and dwarf too much at ease. If you require drink in the event of a seige, ale is as thick as water. And if we are attacked in force, it shall take more than a store of water to save Iach Celduin."
Broddur is given an amused glance from Frarin, who chuckles gently and shakes his head. "You dig a trench from the river and all of Mirkwood shall hear of it, cousin. And cut it off once we retreat into these caverns nonetheless."
[Nob(#16122)] There is a distant sound, like thunder, to the south. For a moment, a line of fire outlines the horizon, then it is gone. Lightning, surely....
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
At this last, Lorthrain would seem to agree for he nods and turns to face Broddur. "Aye," says he. "I know not how these tunnels were carved, but the late lord Gelbard consulted many a worthy of Erebor regardnig it, and however it stands now is likely with good reason. If you wish to see these tunnels, then gladly I shall guide you, but first..."
The Girion nobleman looks ruefully then to Frarin. "Thought has been given to that, Master Frarin. The town itself may be rebuilt, and the landowners here have long been compensated for the prospect. The townsfolk leave daily, seeknig the safety of Londaroth for the time being and so the buildings of Iach Celduin are less my concern than you might think."
But then, ere can say more, his brow furrows and he glances up at the sudden fire from the south. "What was that? Did anyone else see that?"
Frarin's rebuke brings the full force of Broddur's scowl swinging round toward him, for all that it presents the Dwarf's 'worse side' to Lorthrain. "I was offering," he says, through gritted teeth, "to dig them a well. Or cut a channel to where water's stored beneath the rocks. More often below ground the trouble's keeping the water out, not bringing it in."
At the sound of distant rumbling he pricks his ears, but he is, alas, looking the wrong way. "Aye, I'd like a look at those tunnels of yours - Lord," he appends hastily. "My folk have mining skills of their own." At the query, he blinks. "See what? Heard a bit of thunder. Or-" he peers toward the horizon in sudden alarm, "you don't think it was an army marching?"
[Nob(#16122)] The flash of light comes again - it is lightning. Surely. Save for the tint of red to it... And then all is still, and quiet once more.
[Frarin(#26827)] The spear of fire away to the south only just enters the side of Frarin's vision and it brings his gaze abruptly around, wiping clear the frown that had been deepening at Broddur's gritted retort. "Aye," says the silversmith, to Lorthrain, "fire, was it? Or lightning? At this time of the year? There is hardly a cloud to be seen." He is looking up at the bitter cold sky now, shifting his gaze from there to the west and then again to the south. Broddur's alarm and sudden suggestion brings a grim frown to Frarin's face.
"It may well have been, cousin. Did you see it well, Master Lorthrain? The sound came first, a rumble, like thunder, but before the--" Frarin draws up short, for the flash of light appears again, distant and somehow menacing, with it's red glow. "There! By Durin, and from the south."
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
"Aye!" agrees Lorthrain as the second glow subsides. "The first I did not see clearly but that second could hardly be missed. As you say," he adds, his voice lowering, "there is not a cloud to be seen. If fire, then what could cause it? Surely an army would march under a lenghtier flame than that..."
He draws himself up then, all thoughts of ale and water driven from his mind it seems. "I fear some dark power is abroad, friends. And whether a fresh army comes hither or no, it does not bode well. Will any ride with me to discover the source of the strange light?"
This time Broddur, too, sees that blink of red. He squints southward, suspicious. "Some infernal device of the Enemy, no doubt. Testing some contraption designed to throw fire from a distance?" The dwarf's analytical mind is running away with him now.
At Lorthrain's final suggestion he is brought abruptly back to earth. "Ride? Nay, Lord, I'll trust rather to my own to feet. Have one of your folk show me to your stronghold, and I'll see if a new eye and hand can add anything useful."
[Frarin(#26827)] The contents of Frarin's pipe are tapped out against the side of the hitching post against which he rests and stamped into nothingness, even as he pockets the long pipe. "Infernal device of the Enemy indeed, cousin. What else might break the night so starkly, in a land where hills would mask the movement of torchs and lanterns? I shall go with you, Master Lorthrain," says the silversmith. "My pony is not so swift as your horse, but he is sure-footed and will not reveal us should we have need of masking our presence."
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
A grateful smile settles upon Lorthrain's lips, though it cannot fully dispell the furrow of his brow, and he nods. "You have my thanks, Master Frarin. We shall not ride alone, of course. A dozen of the King's Men shall accompany us."
Looking then to Broddur, the Barding smiles anew. "And should your eyes and hands make an improvement, my thanks will be no less to you, sir. Seek Acton, my lieutenant, within the Inn. He can guide you to the tunnels beneath the town, and show you their extent."
Urgency flashes in his eyes then and he fingers the pommel of his sword absently. "There is little time to lose, son of Forli. How soon can you be ready to leave?"
Then I wish you well on your journey, cousin," offers Broddur to Frarin with a brusque nod, unable to hide the flash of unease that the 'infernal device' has raised in him, "and you, Lord." Lorthrain is given another now. "Mah-" he catches himself, and amends it to, "Fortune smile on you. I'll off to seek this Acton now." With that he turns on his heel and, raising his right arm in farewell, passes into the Inn and out of sight. A blast of warmth sends tendrils of moisture eddying upward from the Inn-door into the chill air.
[Frarin(#26827)] "And you, cousin," Frarin nods to Broddur, just as gruff as Broddur's own. The silversmith's attention returns sharp and business-like to Lorthrain, a grim resignation in his face to join the Girion's urgency. "As long as it takes me to saddle my pony and inform one of my company of my departure, Master Lorthrain. That light, whatever it was, cannot have been more than a day's march from here I shall not need to pack much."
Iach Celduin is an old trading town built on the border of Mirkwood, where the Old Forest Road emerges and meets the Running River come down from the Long Lake to the northeast.
The town is on the east side of the river, in a bend as it turns to flow to the southeast, built next to a wide bridge heavy enough for large burdened wagons to safely cross. The town is fairly large, with several livery stables, stores and inns to help support the increase in traffic across the road since the death of Smaug and re-population of Erebor years before. The town also has a large contigent of soldiers from the Dale-Lands, to help guard against the predidations of orcs and other fell beasts from the woods.
Several docks stick out into the river, and barges laden with logs felled in the forest make regular runs up-river to the sawmills powered by the water fall at the base of the distant Long Lake.
Obvious exits:
Inn, Into the River, SouthEast, and West over Bridge
=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Real Time: Tue Sep 22 14:21:21 2009 MST
Dale-Lands Time:
Monday, nighttime on a clear winter's night, January 2 of 3048
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=
[Frarin(#26827)] It is well dark by this time, as winter sits over the land at its deepest point and as the new moon sheds no sliver of light. The night envelopes the village of Iach Celduin like a blanket, making the little settlement seem smaller than truly it is. And yet all around it are campfires, the clank of weapons, the rattle of armour, the edgy voices of soldier and citizen alike.
From the inn comes a dwarf, clearly armed but dressed richer and less formally than a soldier. He exits the merry little building and comes to stand leaning against a hitching post (conveniently just tall enough for him to lay his shoulder against!). A long pipe is clutchd between his teeth, but the dwarf's eyes stare sullenly to the west, into the murky blackness of what lays beyond the village.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
It is not long ere he is joined by another fellow, though between his lips no pipe rests, only a weary smile. The young lord Lorthrain strides inro view, doubtless finishing some inspection, and he catches sight of the smoking Dwarf. With a shrewd survey of the khazad the Girion lord makes his way to join him.
"Hail, Master Dwarf," he greets, smiling on despite his fatigue. "I've been told that you are Frarin, though oft will soldiers find sport in misleading their officers. Did they tell me falsely, or rightly on this score?"
The rich-dressed dwarf is not the only one of his kind out taking the air tonight. Another, Broddur, ambles round the corner of a building, his own pipe sending up only a faint wisp of smoke. From the scent of ale clinging to him, he has clearly taken to heart the injunction to free up more of the town's barrels for water. No wonder he may have needed a walk to clear his head.
His meandering takes him towards his fellow, and as he nears the dwarf grunts out a terse, "Good evening, cousin." His gaze up to the Dale-lander, and he adds, almost reluctantly, "And to you, sir. If you can call it good. Wind out there fair takes the skin off the bones - what's left of it." As he nears, one can see that one side of his face is puckered by red, shiny scars and - worse - one side of his beard is gone. He tries to keep that side turned away. Noting the direction of Frarin's glance, he adds, alarmed, "What? See something out there?"
[Frarin(#26827)] The dwarf glances to the side at the sound of another approaching, two in fact, for the he notes the presence of both man and fellow dwarf and straightens when both seem set on joining him. At first the richly-dressed dwarf only narrows his eyes at the man, but he nods cordially at Broddur, muttering a return "Good evening" before looking back to the man. His reply is a second in coming. "They tell you rightly, on this occasion, my lord," returns Frarin, noting the Daleman's attire. "I am Frarin son of Forli." A short bow to the young lord finishes with a glance at the half-bearded Broddur.
"Hm? Nay, nothing. Tis the new moon, I do never feel at ease on such nights, in such a place."
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
"Then perhaps I come not a moment too soon," replies Lorthrain, his eyes flitting between both Dwarves. "I am Lorthrain of Girion, of Dale," he introduces himself for both their benefit. "And I am glad to hear it, Master Frarin," he smiles. "I trust that Thari has spoken to you of our plan regarding the barrels of ale? It is an urgent work, but seeing as we would need to empty them first we may yet have a chance to chase away the chill of the wind, no?"
Smiling still he looks then to Broddur once more, a calm eye surveying the fellow's facial scars, but mentioning them not.
Broddur does not seem relieved by Frarin's answer. He continues to squint out into the dark for a moment, before nodding. "Never did understand why some folk build in wood instead of good solid stone."
Looking back to his companions he adds, taciturn, "And I don't understand why some folk feel the need to waste barrels of perfectly good ale. If it comes to seige, ale's as good a drink as any. And if there's a-burning," his hand comes up to stroke a piece of beard that is no longer there, "then there's the river." His brows jut out mulishly.
Lorthrain's survey, perhaps, recalls him to good manners, and he gives the Dale-man a stiff bow. "Broddur son of Brandur at your service and your kin's," he mutters gruffly.
[Frarin(#26827)] "Ah, you are the young lord Thari spoke with," Frarin replies, nodding. "Well met, Lorthrain of Girion." The silversmith looks to Broddur when the other dwarf addresses Lorthrain, but it is not long before he is returning his attention to the Daleman, nodding again, though this time as if in agreement with Broddur.
"I am inclined to agree with Master Broddur, Master Lorthrain. It is true that the company of merchants I lead is none too pleased at the prospect of losing their stock of ale, but that is not what concerns me. You wish a supply of water, for what? To drink or to stay the spread of fire?"
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
"For either, or both," answers the Barding, and he steps back a pace to face them both at once. "That same river you mention, Master Broddur, may yet be witheld from us. This town is not a stronghold, and we should have a terrible time holding it as one. The stronghold, is underground, dug for the very purpose of keeping the Enemy at bay and trying his patience. Under the earth, where no doubt you would be a great deal more comfortable that I, you may be glad of that water indeed."
He looks then back to Frarin, and nods appreciatively. "I understand your merchants' concern, and have offered to pay the worth of the ale so as not to ruin their profit. But I would also hope," says he with a more meaningful glint in his eye, "that in times of trial each fellow would offer what they have for the betterment of all. It is not for the safety of the Dale-lands alone that we guard its borders."
The winter night is chill, and the lack of a moon makes every little sound from the military camps that surround Iach Celduin seem magnified several times. Within the town the lanterns of the Inn hold the dark at bay, and in their wan light three figures can be seen lingering by one of the hitching posts: two short and one tall.
The look that Broddur shoots the Girion lord from under his bushy brows can only be described as 'forbidding'. "Show me these caverns of yours and I'll be comfortable there now. With ale to drink I'll be more so. And it's the river you crave, why not bring it there too? My pick needs some excercise in readiness for caving in goblin skulls."
[Frarin(#26827)] "No dwarf in my company will accept a single coin of repayment," Frarin says gruffly, frowning at Lorthrain. "I have seen to that. No, my point is not with the loss of profit, as I have said. I agreed to lead this company expressly on the grounds that all within it should come prepared for battle, not trade. I know very well what might come from what we do, or fail to do, here."
He draws long on his pipe, sending a haze of smoke about his person as he exhales. "No, I am concerned rather that it might be folly to consume the contents of these barrels you desire so hastily, at such a time." Frarin gives something of a sarcastic half-smile. "No dwarf will simply pour it away, yet to drink it all risks putting both man and dwarf too much at ease. If you require drink in the event of a seige, ale is as thick as water. And if we are attacked in force, it shall take more than a store of water to save Iach Celduin."
Broddur is given an amused glance from Frarin, who chuckles gently and shakes his head. "You dig a trench from the river and all of Mirkwood shall hear of it, cousin. And cut it off once we retreat into these caverns nonetheless."
[Nob(#16122)] There is a distant sound, like thunder, to the south. For a moment, a line of fire outlines the horizon, then it is gone. Lightning, surely....
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
At this last, Lorthrain would seem to agree for he nods and turns to face Broddur. "Aye," says he. "I know not how these tunnels were carved, but the late lord Gelbard consulted many a worthy of Erebor regardnig it, and however it stands now is likely with good reason. If you wish to see these tunnels, then gladly I shall guide you, but first..."
The Girion nobleman looks ruefully then to Frarin. "Thought has been given to that, Master Frarin. The town itself may be rebuilt, and the landowners here have long been compensated for the prospect. The townsfolk leave daily, seeknig the safety of Londaroth for the time being and so the buildings of Iach Celduin are less my concern than you might think."
But then, ere can say more, his brow furrows and he glances up at the sudden fire from the south. "What was that? Did anyone else see that?"
Frarin's rebuke brings the full force of Broddur's scowl swinging round toward him, for all that it presents the Dwarf's 'worse side' to Lorthrain. "I was offering," he says, through gritted teeth, "to dig them a well. Or cut a channel to where water's stored beneath the rocks. More often below ground the trouble's keeping the water out, not bringing it in."
At the sound of distant rumbling he pricks his ears, but he is, alas, looking the wrong way. "Aye, I'd like a look at those tunnels of yours - Lord," he appends hastily. "My folk have mining skills of their own." At the query, he blinks. "See what? Heard a bit of thunder. Or-" he peers toward the horizon in sudden alarm, "you don't think it was an army marching?"
[Nob(#16122)] The flash of light comes again - it is lightning. Surely. Save for the tint of red to it... And then all is still, and quiet once more.
[Frarin(#26827)] The spear of fire away to the south only just enters the side of Frarin's vision and it brings his gaze abruptly around, wiping clear the frown that had been deepening at Broddur's gritted retort. "Aye," says the silversmith, to Lorthrain, "fire, was it? Or lightning? At this time of the year? There is hardly a cloud to be seen." He is looking up at the bitter cold sky now, shifting his gaze from there to the west and then again to the south. Broddur's alarm and sudden suggestion brings a grim frown to Frarin's face.
"It may well have been, cousin. Did you see it well, Master Lorthrain? The sound came first, a rumble, like thunder, but before the--" Frarin draws up short, for the flash of light appears again, distant and somehow menacing, with it's red glow. "There! By Durin, and from the south."
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
"Aye!" agrees Lorthrain as the second glow subsides. "The first I did not see clearly but that second could hardly be missed. As you say," he adds, his voice lowering, "there is not a cloud to be seen. If fire, then what could cause it? Surely an army would march under a lenghtier flame than that..."
He draws himself up then, all thoughts of ale and water driven from his mind it seems. "I fear some dark power is abroad, friends. And whether a fresh army comes hither or no, it does not bode well. Will any ride with me to discover the source of the strange light?"
This time Broddur, too, sees that blink of red. He squints southward, suspicious. "Some infernal device of the Enemy, no doubt. Testing some contraption designed to throw fire from a distance?" The dwarf's analytical mind is running away with him now.
At Lorthrain's final suggestion he is brought abruptly back to earth. "Ride? Nay, Lord, I'll trust rather to my own to feet. Have one of your folk show me to your stronghold, and I'll see if a new eye and hand can add anything useful."
[Frarin(#26827)] The contents of Frarin's pipe are tapped out against the side of the hitching post against which he rests and stamped into nothingness, even as he pockets the long pipe. "Infernal device of the Enemy indeed, cousin. What else might break the night so starkly, in a land where hills would mask the movement of torchs and lanterns? I shall go with you, Master Lorthrain," says the silversmith. "My pony is not so swift as your horse, but he is sure-footed and will not reveal us should we have need of masking our presence."
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
A grateful smile settles upon Lorthrain's lips, though it cannot fully dispell the furrow of his brow, and he nods. "You have my thanks, Master Frarin. We shall not ride alone, of course. A dozen of the King's Men shall accompany us."
Looking then to Broddur, the Barding smiles anew. "And should your eyes and hands make an improvement, my thanks will be no less to you, sir. Seek Acton, my lieutenant, within the Inn. He can guide you to the tunnels beneath the town, and show you their extent."
Urgency flashes in his eyes then and he fingers the pommel of his sword absently. "There is little time to lose, son of Forli. How soon can you be ready to leave?"
Then I wish you well on your journey, cousin," offers Broddur to Frarin with a brusque nod, unable to hide the flash of unease that the 'infernal device' has raised in him, "and you, Lord." Lorthrain is given another now. "Mah-" he catches himself, and amends it to, "Fortune smile on you. I'll off to seek this Acton now." With that he turns on his heel and, raising his right arm in farewell, passes into the Inn and out of sight. A blast of warmth sends tendrils of moisture eddying upward from the Inn-door into the chill air.
[Frarin(#26827)] "And you, cousin," Frarin nods to Broddur, just as gruff as Broddur's own. The silversmith's attention returns sharp and business-like to Lorthrain, a grim resignation in his face to join the Girion's urgency. "As long as it takes me to saddle my pony and inform one of my company of my departure, Master Lorthrain. That light, whatever it was, cannot have been more than a day's march from here I shall not need to pack much."
Players: Frarin, Lorthrain, Broddur
