Chapter Seventeen

The Black Lion Inn

Marith

Marith dismounted from her brown mare her worn leather boots landing in a puddle splashing muddy water onto her trousers dirty from weeks of travel. Her ring mail chimed gently as she pulled her mace from its hook on her saddle and hung it on her waist. She had more experience with a sword, but clerics could only use the weapons of their deity or blunt weapons. It was a long-standing tradition that overtime had become bound into the laws of the land by magic until resisting it was impossible. Marith looked around the stable yard and signaled for a stable hand to attend her.

“Here’s a silver,” she said tossing it to a lad with straw hair. “Make sure my horse is fed, watered and brushed and there’ll be another silver in it for you.

The boy flashed a bright smile and led her horse by the reins into the stable that adjoined the inn. Marith stepped up to the inns door and pushed open the heavy oaken door. The inn was lively and boisterous, the Black Lion Inn was famous for its brews made by the Grumshs, an old family of dwarves who were the leaders of this town. Mystery and rumor surrounded the family it was said that every two generations a black lion with red eyes would stalk the firstborn son and kill them dragging them away never to be seen again. Marith walked up to the counter where a plump human woman was serving glasses of ale.

“What can I get you my lady?” the woman asked as she took in Marith’s outfit.

“A glass of mulled wine would be most pleasant. Also, I am here to inquire of companions who I have been bid to join here,” Marith said. “They would be dressed like me and armed likewise.”

“That will be one silver for the wine, I believe your companions are in the far corner of the common room,” the barmaid informed her taking the single coin that Marith placed on the polished oak counter.

Marith took the pewter mug of hot wine and stepped around the round tables and chairs filled with laughing patrons relaxing after a day of hard work in the fields and shops. She saw the far corner and instantly knew that these were the people she was looking for. There was a tall man in black leather armor he wore a red scarf over his face and black cowl only his eyes visible giving the briefest sight of light green skin. A dwarf sat at the table as he downed a glass of black ale a pile of glass mugs in front of him; he wore a leather shirt with a spiked steel breastplate over it. An elf in light brown and green leather armor sat at the table a longbow leaning against his chair. The final member of the party was an old man in brown robes with an ironbound staff at his side and a book poking out of a leather satchel.

Marith walked up to the table and cleared her throat. “Excuse me are you the party of heroes assembled by the Temple of Fesla?” she asked.

“We are,” the old wizard replied, “are you the last member of the party sent to join us?”

“I am,” Marith answered, “May I take a seat?”

The party of adventures nodded in assent and Marith took a seat before them. “I must confess I know little of our quest, some Tome has been stolen and it must be returned to the Temple of the Four Elements. Do you know what the Asternosis Tome is?” she asked.

“The Asternosis Tome is one of the most powerful books in creation,” the wizard answered for the party. “It is the Book of Stars in the common tongue, with it the wielder has access to powerful spell of time and space and if it is removed from the Material Plane than the safeguards against wizards abusing such spells will be removed and we will be at great risk. In addition to those threats the Book of Stars has one other ability a warlock who uses the book can harness the power of a dying star and use its power to break the walls between our plane and one of the elemental planes,”

“How did it go missing?” Marith asked.

“Bunch of bloody wizards,” The dwarf said waving a glass of ale in her general direction his eyes not focusing on anything. “Wizards of the Tower of Sarco locked it in a vault with some magical traps and left it there for years but never actually bothered to check on it. They needed to use a spell from it for some big ritual but when they opened the vault there was a tunnel leading down below it. They cast some divination spells and managed to find out it was a band of adventures of some bad reputation. Unfortunately, those adventurers haven’t been seen in years. Last time they were seen was on a ship crossing the ocean to the sand wastes on their way to the Dead Lands.”

The half-orc spoke up next in a surprisingly feminine voice, “Our first mission is too book passage to Trevalla and travel to the Dead Lands from there and see if anyone remembers these adventurers.”

“We have been waiting for you but now that you have arrived we should probably head to Fells or Orpha to book passage on a ship. Orpha is closer but Fells is more likely to have a captain heading across the ocean within the next few weeks; it is close to winter and the seas will soon become dangerous,” the elf ranger said.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” the dwarf said with a yawn. “I need to puke than go up to my room and pass out.”

“I never did get your names,” Marith said. “I am Marith cleric of Fesla.”

“I’m Carl, a battle-ragger of clan Burgan,” the dwarf said nodding his head towards her and then falling forward against the table and beginning to snore.

“I am Herbalt the Sage, a wandering lore master,” the human wizard said inclining his head to her in a slight bow.

“I am Sel’van of the house of Bri’lef a ranger of the Order of Thorns,” the elf said also giving a slight bow.

“And I am Silla of no name, I am the rogue or our party,” the half-orc said extending her hand.

Marith shook the proffered hand. “I look forward to serving with you all, may we all find success.”