The Misfortunes of Others

Varensen, Northern Stryre, 3rd May, 1601

Taking her priorities in order, she knelt next to Thorkil and cast one of Nodonn's healing spells. The dwarf coughed, gurgled, and sat up.

Swiftly, the pair rifled what they could carry from the two dead thieves, before carrying on into the market square.

  • Leather Armor
  • Light Crossbow
  • Short Sword (magical)
  • Masterwork Daggers x2
  • 18 Masterwork Bolts
  • Potion
  • 12 Arrows
  • Composite Shortbow
  • Potions x2
  • 849 gp

 

Thorkil took the bolts.

The market south of the river was a completely different proposition to the Royal Fair in the Noble Quarter. The stock of the myriad stalls was far less slanted towards the luxurious and more to staples, essentials, everyday things - but all brightly displayed and enthusiastically hawked.

They spent an interested hour browsing, and then Thorkil nudged Animir and pointed to a stall, marked 'Siengarde - Magic for Hire'. "Why not find out what your haul does?'' he suggested.

Siengarde was only too happy to oblige... for a fee of seventy gold pieces. A spell was cast, and the potions discovered to be Swimming and Vision, while the sword was enchanted to +1.

With the waning of the day, the market traders were starting to pack up, and Animir and Thorkil decided they'd had enough excitement for one day; they headed back to their lodgings.

Later that evening, as they sat eating their meal, they overheard the conversation of a group of people sitting at the next table. This wasn't difficult, as said people were being pretty rowdy.

There were five of them altogether, three humans and two dwarves. The apparent leader was a female human, called Zada by the others, dressed in travel-worn hunter's clothes and armed with a pair of matched short swords. Two of the others, a dwarf called Oratas and a human called Hámaendur, were similarly accoutred. The last human, a quiet woman called Lothaledala, was simply dressed in light, loose clothes and completely unarmed as far as Animir could see. She was drinking water, unlike the others who were sinking ales quite enthusiastically. The final member of the party, whose introduction marked him as new and gave Animir the names of the rest, was a dwarf named Maegnor.

Maegnor was, it transprired, a priest, and was being brought into the band late as the party healer; Zada's band were headed out the next morning on an expedition (probably to some lost tomb or treasure site), and appeared convinced they'd come back rich.

Her attention was drawn back to Thorkil, as the dwarf began muttering and cursing over his dinner. Unusually for the Seagull's Pickings, he had ended up with a rather bad meal. He attracted Quirke's attention, and the innkeeper was dismayed - he replaced the meal immediately. Thorkil muttered and rumbled a bit, but then Quirke returned with a free beer and Thorkil forgave him completely.

After a long swallow, he looked up and noticed where Animir was looking. "Looks like they're off for some fun," he commented. Then his eyes narrowed. "They seem to have been to the same shop as me," he added. Animir looked again. He was right. Most of their weapons bore the same peculiar rune as Thorkil's new shield.

Zada's crew continued to drink and boast for some hours, until the abstemious Lothaledala bullied them all into going to bed, as they had to make a start in the morning. Animir and Thorkil turned in soon afterwards.

Varensen, Northern Stryre, 4th May, 1601

The next day, Animir and Thorkil descended for breakfast to discover that the rain was lashing down outside. Zada's party were just preparing to leave, heavily cloaked and wrapped against the elements, and several of them grumbling a bit and clearly hung over.

The weather wasn't very encouraging, so Animir spent the morning cleaning her mail and weapons. After lunch the weather cleared, and she decided to do some financial business.

The gold she and Thorkil had looted in various places was getting heavy, and so she planned to resolve quite a bit of it into more portable gemstones before her next adventure. Thus she headed into the Merchant Quarter again, looking for a jeweller.

She found one Marko Byskov. Byskov was a quiet, dark, saturnine man with a brusque manner, and he drove a hard bargain. Finally, however, she left the shop with a sapphire, a black pearl, and two fine red garnets in exchange for two thousand gold pieces worth of heavy coin.

Later that day they sold the thieves' gear - less the sword, potions and bolts - raising another five hundred.

Varensen, Northern Stryre, 6th May, 1601

Two more days of quiet R&R went by. Then, as the companions sat eating on the evening of the 6th, the doors banged open and three battered figures stumbled in.

All three showed signs of recently received and hastily Cured wounds. Lothaledala and Maegnor were otherwise basically sound, but Zada, supported between them, had lost her right arm below the elbow, and both her scabbards were empty.

The three dropped into chairs, and Maegnor called to Quirke for drinks.

As she eyed the battered survivors, a thought occured to Animir. She combed her memory for details. Yes - Zada's shortswords, Oratas' axe and Hámaendur's hand-and-a-half sword - all had borne the mysterious rune. Only Maegnor's mace and dagger were unmarked by it, and these were intact. They bore a different symbol; a stylized closed eye with a dependent teardrop.

She introduced herself, and enquired what had happened. Maegnor spoke up; the others seemed so shocked that they'd not yet registered Animir's prescence.

"Yes, terrible," said Maegnor ruefully, "we ran into a big band of bugbears and got mashed, terrible bad luck..."

Responding to the call for drinks not the sight, the inkeeper brought four ales and a water at this point; when he saw the empty seats he hastily ditched the spares on Thorkil's table, to that worthy's delight.

This appeared to stir Zada out of her daze. "I've never known an expedition so unlucky," she said. "From the word go - when it rained so hard as we set out - we should have seen the omen. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Two horses died on the way." She shuddered. ''And then - our first battle. They should have been easy. Yet the slaughtered us. Every blow they struck drew blood. Our very weapons failed and broke. Hám and Ora dead. What went wrong?''

Maegnor was quick - very quick - to respond. "These things happen,'' he said comfortingly. "We'll recruit and re-equip and go back and all will be well - you'll see.'' Zada seemed unconvinced.

Animir described the rumours she'd been hearing about the weapon failures, and then added her own observations about the weapons of Zada's party. Zada was thoughtful, but Maegnor was dismissive; "Just rumours!'' he said, ''have you ever met anyone to whom it's actually happened?''

''Yes," said Animir; ''you."

Zada became more animated. "I see a pattern," she said, "What should we do? We have no weapons, and we're broke - apart from what I will need to get my arm put back together."

Animir looked at the plainly unarmed Lothaledala. "What do you do?" she asked. A level gaze came back the other way. "I suffice." she said. Animir moved on.

"Can we have a moment?" she said. She and Thorkil went off and discussed what they wanted to do, and then returned to suggest to Zada that they join forces to investigate. The ranger was grateful and keen; "Second order of business is to have a word with that shopkeeper," she said. "What's the first?" asked Animir. Zada moved her stump. "Get my arm put back on."

Varensen, Northern Stryre, 7th May, 1601

The next morning, everyone was up bright and early and ready to be doing. Almost everybody. Maegnor was conspicuous by his absence, and when Zada went to check his room, it was empty; he and all his gear were gone.

There was nothing to be done about that, and so the whole party trooped off to the temple of Morganna, where they were brought to a specialized priest/healer named Gathien. Gathien examined Zada's arm, and told her it could be regrown, but that the temple would require a donation of seventeen hundred gold for the service. Zada blenched; she had managed to scrape together 1,500 but it was not enough. Animir, however, added what was needed, much to Zada's gratitude.

The spell was cast.

The stump twitched, and then tendrils of pale matter began to extrude from it; lengthening and thickening, they became the bones of an arm and a hand. Swiftly, muscle tissue appeared, wrapping itself around the structure, and then fresh, clean skin flowed down over the new limb like fluid, wrapping itself around until the arm was complete. Zada flexed and turned it in wonder; clearly, it was worth every penny.

Thanking the priest, they left the temple and headed for Blade Street. Zada had no swords; Animir gave her the magical one she'd plundered from the less-than-successful thieves.


 

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