An Evening at The Mountain's Last Light: Respite and Resolve
As night fully claims the sky outside
Vertidor's Rest, a weary peace settles over the common room of
The Mountain’s Last Light. The gruesome trophy of the "
King Rat" still lies on a central table, a stark reminder of the
battle fought below, but the immediate chaos has subsided.
The adventurers, rewarded with coin, stew, and ale, gather around the tables, the flickering hearth fire and numerous candles casting a
warm glow.
Winding Down and Taking Stock:
George the Dream-Touched, finding even the common room
too noisy or confining under a roof,
retires to the room Brenna had promised.
In one corner, the wounded recover.
Gunthard the Mad Axe, his neck and foot bandaged by
Norman the Bandit Redeemer, rests quietly,
petting his dog Badeux and offering
sincere thanks to his companions before
murmuring a prayer. He resolves to visit
Father Altanis at the church come morning.
Tillomar the Accused, hand also treated by
Norman, reclines nearby,
conflicted for the moment, his own dog
Fergal at his feet, as he's worried about his troubles wit the law but interested in economic opportuinities.
Stein Von Steiner, revitalized by
Norman’s healing magic, makes a point of
formally introducing himself and shaking hands with
Gunthard,
Norman, and
Tillomar, expressing relief that they all survived. He
gratefully acknowledges his debt to Norman for saving his neck. The group is in a relaxing mood now, listening to the bard's
slow lute music.
Animated Conversations, an Old Ranger's Memory and Emerging Plans:
As the group
eats and drinks, conversations turn to the
strange events and
what comes next. Stein, practical even after his ordeal, drifts towards the
pig-like rat corpse and addresses
Norman and the others nearby high-spiritedly, suggesting
the discovery presents opportunities. He proposes that come morning, they
investigate whether the
Bailiff Gerwin Vosericor other officials might fund a proper
eradication of the source of Evil, with any
reward offered to be
distributed to the group.
Norman readily agrees, confirming the
need to solve the mystery but advising
rest first. He turns to
Olwin, who is back at his seat nearby with an ale, the old man resting from the full day and
just observing.
Norman asks about previous ratholes or similar incidents.
Hrod Lastson, joining the conversation, echoes this line of
inquiry, asking
Olwin about the
inn's history and older foundations. Both mistate the
ranger's name, but he doesn't seem bothered at all.
Indeed,
Olwin, having overseen the fire brigade standing down, had pulled up a stool near the table where
Norman,
Hrod, and the others are gathered, accepting a mug of ale
Brenna offers. He listens patiently as Norman asks about prior rat problems, and Hrod follows up about the inn's history and older foundations. His good eye regards them thoughtfully, his demeanor now cordial and willing to engage, responding well to
Hrod's directness and
Norman's competence. WIth an appraising look towards these two who have shown competence and sense. "
Aye, Cleric? Hillman?" he says, gesturing for them to speak freely. "
You handled that mess below. Ask what you will." A stark contrast to his earlier dismissal of
Zollo and indifference towards
Felix...
Olwin takes a long sip of ale before answering
Norman, leaning forward slightly. "
Rats? Always rats near a cellar door, especially on the frontier. Comes with storing grain and brewing ale." He shakes his head slightly. "
But never... never like that. That size... corruption! Never like those things below. That size... the feel of them... unnatural. And that brute you dragged up?" He shakes his head slowly. "That
wasn't just a big rat. That was... tainted. Aye, good Cleric," he says to Norman, "we get rats. Vermin follows settlement. Field rats in the autumn, cellar rats if the grain spills. Scrabblers and biters. Never... that." He gestures towards the table holding
Stein's trophy.
He nods towards
Hrod's question about the foundations. "
The inn itself? Brenna's family built most of what you see. Sturdy Verridor timber. But it sits heavy on older work." He gestures vaguely downwards. "
Foundations are deep. Stone cut different than ours now. Some say ruins, from before our kingdom pushed this far south. Good, solid stone... mostly. You've got a good eye, Hillman," he says to
Hrod. "
The bones of this place are old. Older than my grandfather. Older than Arandia." He taps the wooden table. "This whole bend in the hills has been our kingdom's watch post, guarding the pass since before I was born. They built this town solid."
Olwin leans in conspiratorially, his voice barely above the common room's murmur. "
Many buried things out here on the frontier and beyond. Ancient tombs, shrines to dark gods, cursed prisoners, maybe worse... things meant to stay buried." He meets your eyes, then his gaze is distant for a moment, remembering
things best forgotten from his travels. "
As for that hole... rats dig, yes. But not through solid stonework like that. That passage is new, and it's wrong. When I served in the army of the king's father, the troops knew about the... wrongness... in this valley. It calls more wrong things.", he finishes.
Ostgar Saustian, ever pragmatic and perhaps
keen to avoid crawling through tight spaces, voices his own plan: scouting nearby buildings in the morning for
alternative entrances to the tunnel, suggesting
the Bailiff would have to pay if the infestation proves widespread, and offering the use of the
dogs for tracking. A flicker of understanding crosses
Olwin's face as Ostgar
speaks. "
A hunter's wisdom," he murmurs, offering
Hrod a brief wink. He sighs. "
You're right. Can't just block the hole and pray."
Tillomar voices agreement with
Ostgar's assessment that the tunnel itself isn't practical, suggesting
digging them out is better, but also expresses interest in
visiting the merchant Greenwald, Father Altanis, and Mad Orla in the morning.
Kal Arion the Farwalker, having calmly
deflected Zollo's unnerving dagger game, makes his way over to the main table where the core of the group –
Norman, Hrod, Stein, and others – are
deep in discussion about the
cellar's mysteries. He pulls up a stool, his expression composed. "
If you intend to hunt down the source of this," he states, his voice steady, cutting through the chatter, "
you have my commitment, with all my senses. I am Kal Arion." He meets the eyes of those around the table. "
I have some skill in stalking and ambush, should it come to that. More importantly," he adds, perhaps a touch reluctantly, "
the Vo- ... I have a talent for sensing these... evil things. Whatever corruption spawned those creatures below, I can feel its presence, and I will help root it out." He is offering not just muscle but a unique, vital tool for confronting the
unnatural darkness they uncovered.
Meanwhile,
Alfwine the Cursed, having dutifully helped
Ostgar with the candles earlier,
lingers near the edge of the main discussion group, at a quieter table,
listening intently but avoiding drawing attention. While the
warriors and
clerics debate
confronting the evil source directly, tracking underground tunnels, or seeking aid from the Bailiff,
Alfwine's mind works on a
different angle. Clutching his dagger and absently fiddling with his jeweler's loupe, the socially anxious
necromancer quietly formulates his
own plan for the morning: a less direct,
more analytical approach. He decides
he will scout the area above ground, starting from the cellar's location, to trace the
likely path of the hidden tunnel and determine which nearby structures or areas it might connect to, hoping to gather intelligence before any
potentially dangerous underground exploration begins.
A rough
consensus is formed: rest tonight,
investigate further and seek official backing
tomorrow.
Provocations and Solitude:
Not everyone joins the main discussion immediately.
Zollo the Manhunter, finding the settlement too busy for his usual nocturnal activities and rebuffed in his demand for a hammer,
seeks other amusement. He had approached
Kal Arion, greeting him as "
Heretic," and
mockingly challenges him to a game of
Five Finger Fillet, demonstrating with his
own knife.
Kal, though
impressed by
Zollo's skill, calmly
refuses to play or be baited into a fight,
questioning the insult before heading over to join the main group's planning session.
Zollo is left to play his game alone and to continue his brooding.
Felix the Tumbling Thief, after his unsuccessful attempts to gain favor or information from Brenna and Olwin, eats and finds a quiet spot to rest as well. Seeing the main group settling into serious discussion around the tables now laden with food and ale, and
having received little warmth from the innkeepers himself, he decides it's time to mingle – partly from
boredom, partly to
size up his temporary companions. He saunters over towards the table where the cleric
Norman is talking to the imposing, axe-wielding hillman
Hrod . With a casual air that belies his quick assessment of the situation, Felix leans against a nearby beam. "Quite the welcome party downstairs, eh?" he comments, nodding towards
Hrod. "Impressive axe-work, big guy. And you, Father," he adds, turning to
Norman with a flicker of a smile, "steady hands with those bandages – and the staff, earlier." While making this
seemingly innocuous small talk, his nimble fingers idly produce a worn deck of
playing cards. Without seeming to pay much attention, he performs a
flawless one-handed shuffle, then casually fans the cards before snapping the deck shut – a
subtle display of dexterity, less a performance and
more a habit, while his eyes
gauge their reactions, ever the
opportunist trying to get acquainted.
Wolfgang von Schwarzscheid, having earlier assisted
Norman in getting the wounded Gunthard upstairs and helped secure the cellar hole, had been sitting at the main table with a mug of ale, just observing the
common room's denouement with a calm,
analytical eye. His noble upbringing and Warmage Academy training prompt him to quietly assess the situation: the
bizarre, oversized rat corpse presented by
Stein, the
simmering tension caused by
Zollo's demands, the varying competence and motivations displayed by the large group. He listens intently as plans for the morning are discussed, making a mental note of those suggesting pragmatic approaches like
Ostgar's reconnaissance or
Stein's idea of seeking the Bailiff's sanction – actions that align with his own
preference for strategy and minimizing unnecessary risk - and expense, given his thrifty nature and depleted funds. While
Kal Arion's talk of palpable
evil is unsettling and far removed from the
controlled elementalism he studied,
Wolfgang acknowledges the tactical advantage of such senses. He offers a considered comment, reinforcing the need for caution before exploring the hole further, "
A sound plan to seek the Bailiff's support first, Stein. Rushing blindly into that tunnel benefits no one, especially if that cleric's senses prove true." He remains largely reserved, calculating how this unexpected alliance might yet serve his own long-term goal of regaining footing in the world, far from the courts that betrayed his family.
Midnight:
The night deepens. Stories were shared, gear tended, and the
small measure camaraderie forged in the bloody cellar solidified for some, while tensions simmered for others.
Stein negotiates with
Brenna to store the
massive rat carcass in a cold shed out back before finding his own place to rest.
Gradually, the common room empties as the adventurers seek their promised lodging.
Vertidor's Rest settles under the stars, the inn quiet save for the crackling hearth. The immediate
danger is past, the
adventurers rewarded and sheltered. But the
barricaded hole in the cellar remains, a silent testament to the unnatural
evil detected. Plans have been made – information to gather, officials to petition, tunnels to map, sources to uncover.
The prologue adventure is complete, but the true challenges of the Arandian Kingdom Forsaken Valley, hinted at by the monstrous rats and the unseen evil presence, await the party with the next morning light.
End of Prologue
