Tarn’tera 2

I’m headed to Frandor’s Keep. If I recall correctly, the major delve there is the Mines of Chaos. So that probably means goblins, hobgoblins, a bugbear, an owlbear, a minotaur, gnolls, kobolds, orcs, ogres, zombies, and skeletons. I could have forgotten some, and of course, there’s no guarantee that there won’t be ones I never encountered. Our GM admitted that the entire adventure was designed to be a sampling of major monster types and tactics, with an extremely safe and secure keep to fall back to and a place to buy gear and sell treasure.

----

Duromar ran. He was using one of the barbarian’s class skills, Wilderness Running, as he ran from Farzey to Frandor’s Keep. What would have been a multi-day journey with the others became an easy hour-and-a-half run instead.

Much faster than he expected, his path along the river brought him into sight of the Keep. It was a bit of an optical illusion, as it sat right above three side-by-side waterfalls. Continuing along, he found that the Keep itself sat on an island in the river and used a much smaller island as an outer gate. It was these two islands that caused the three-way split in the river that became three waterfalls. Two drawbridges were visible, making the connections to the main keep.

As Duromar slowed his pace from running, he noticed more details. One which came to his immediate attention was the horde of halflings outside the gate. A mob of bums might actually have been more accurate, as the dozen or so halflings broke off from their seemingly idle behavior to rush at Duromar, shouting various offers at him.

“I can fight!”

“I can sew wounds and cook!”

“I can carry a torch!”

“Please sir, just a silver for my sick boy!”

There was very little sadder than out of work hirelings. Even so, mixed among the genuine work-seekers would be petty thieves and pick-pockets. Duromar let them get halfway to him before roaring at them, pulling out both his swords and starting to charge at them.

Unsurprisingly, they scattered. Duromar stopped his charge, calmly put his swords away, and continued on to the drawbridge. He looked across the span, seeing the gate guards, both of whom had weapons out. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the vanished mob grinning as if from a great joke and kept walking across the bridge. As he drew near the gatehouse, he also noticed a scribe at a table just inside the gate. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to come back?” he asked with a chuckle.

One guard muttered, “Wish I could get away with that,” as he put his longsword away. “State your name and business here at the Keep.”

“Duromar. Adventurer.”

The scribe wrote something in his logbook as the guard asked more questions. “Are you traveling alone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you carrying any trade goods?”

“No.”

“Have you ever borne arms against the City-States?”

“No.”

“Are you wanted for any crimes?”

“No.”

The guard grunted. “This is an official military installment of the City-States. I need you to clarify your business here.”

The second guard spoke up for the first time. “And why we should let such an obvious troublemaker inside.”

Duromar paused, glancing at them both. This didn’t seem to be like a routine check before entering a city. If anything, it seemed like it was standard procedure to deny entry to anyone without a sufficiently good reason.

“Monster hunting. Orcs, goblins, ogres, gnolls, whatever happens to be nearby. I heard there’s a lot of them to be found here.”

“Bounty hunting, then. Right, then all that’s left is the entry fee. That‘s one gold piece for yourself and two more for each of those swords you’ve got.”

Duromar politely cleared his throat. “Neighbor, I’ve been to a fair number of the cities in the City-States, and not a one of those charges more than a single silver piece for entry.” He paused, giving all three a hard stare. “And not a one has ever charged extra for weapons. So, one silver piece is what I’ll pay.”

The guard shook his head. “That’s the fee. Pay it or turn around and leave.”

Duromar thought for a second, looking at all three of them, then shrugged. “Okay. I thought you were just shaking me down, but if that’s the fee, that’s the fee.” He reached into his belt pouch and handed over five coins.

The guard took the coins and turned to the scribe, who handed him a clay shard and a slip of paper in exchange for the coins, which were dropped onto a second logbook and dutifully recorded.

“Take the shard to the next gate. They’ll go over the rules of the keep. Take this pass to the paymaster. He’s in charge of bounty hunters.”

The second gate was a good hundred feet away from the outer gate and past a second drawbridge. Duromar handed over the clay shard. As a first-time visitor, he was told to keep his weapons away, and not to use them at all inside the keep. He was also told the schedule for when the gates opened and closed, and that they never made exceptions. He was asked again about trade goods and sternly warned that if he should bring some in in the future, to be certain to declare them.

After showing the paper pass he was told where to go. “Paymaster, right. This here is the lower bailey. Head through the Fallow Gate, that gate right there, into the middle bailey and the paymaster is the first building on the right.”

The lower bailey was fairly small, with just the smithy & armorer, a warehouse for trade goods, and the stables. Just past the gate was a posting board of some sort, with a variety of notices on it. Duromar made a mental note to come back and read them again later.

Disturbingly, there was a pillory in the middle of the bailey, and it had a man chained to it. He’d clearly been whipped until he bled and then left there to suffer. No one nearby took notice of it, so either it wasn’t an unusual event, or his crimes deserved the ill-treatment.

Offsettled, Duromar walked past the sentry standing next to Fallow Gate. The middle bailey was quite a bit busier. Most of the traffic was soldiers, but there were plenty of civilians as well. It felt like a small village, albeit one surrounded by thirty-foot walls.

The paymaster’s office was a fortress in miniature. No surprise if it had to store any significant amount of wages. It had two guards of its own as well. Stepping inside, Duromar found a heavyset man behind a counter reading some paperwork.

“Are you the paymaster?”

The man looked up and gave a sharp nod. “Frowler Thriftaxe. How can I help you?”

Duromar laid the slip of paper on the counter. “I was told to come here to sign up as a bounty hunter.”

That brought an actual smile to his face, fleetingly. “Good, good.” He pulled out a document from below and laid it on the counter. “You’ll just need to sign this after I give you the rules.” He pointed to a sign on the wall. “We pay bounties on pairs of ears. You must bring the pair, not just one. Most humanoid races are worth a single gold piece per pair. Orcs are worth two gold pieces, owlbears are worth ten, lizardmen are worth twenty-five, clutches of lizardman eggs are worth twenty.” The sign listed the same prices he’d just quoted. Owlbears, being rather dangerous, made sense to be worth more; the premium on lizardmen and lizardman eggs was interesting. He pointed at the document. “This is an agreement to two things. One, you accept the rates I just listed. Two, you agree to turn in at least one bounty every week. If you fail to turn in at least one per week, we have the option of revoking your papers.”

Duromar picked up a pen and paused on the verge of signing. “What does revoking the papers mean?”

Frowler pursed his lips. “If you had no other valid reason to be at the keep, you wouldn’t be allowed in anymore. But I hardly think one bounty a week will be challenging to achieve.”

Duromar nodded and signed. The form was incredibly straightforward, and read exactly as Frowler said. It didn’t even ask for an oath of any kind.

Frowler folded the signed document up and filed it behind himself. He then filled out another form, putting down Duromar’s name and description, then both of them signed it. This one he folded and handed to Duromar. “Keep this on you. You’ll be allowed entry to the keep if you show it to the guards.”

“Without paying the entry fee?”

Frowler looked up sharply at that. “There is no- ah, I see. How badly did they gouge you?”

Duromar sighed. “Not too badly.”

“Next time, if those papers don’t get you right in, ask for the sergeant.”

As Duromar turned to leave, Frowler spoke up one last time. “Good hunting.”

----

After signing up as a bounty hunter, I wandered around the middle bailey for a while. There was a room for rent above the armorer, so I rented it for the month for just 9gp. I suppose I could have left right away and gotten started on the Mines, but now that I was here, I wanted to settle in for a night, visit the local tavern, and sleep at least one night in my new room. There were also two inns in the keep, but they were expensive places to stay at. 1gp a night each! And even more expensive to eat at, at 1gp a meal. The tavern though turned out to be exactly what I’d wanted.

----

Duromar walked into the tavern at midday, having wandered the keep enough to locate most of the shops and services offered. It had a rowdy comfortable feeling, not quite full of guests, many of them eating meals that both looked and smelled appetizing. There were a pair of bouncers at the door, both of whom gave him the professional I’m-watching-you looks. It amused Duromar quite a bit, as he towered over both of them. He’d left his weapons and armor in the room, though. Other than the soldiers, most of the inhabitants didn’t go around armed. The keep really did have a genuine safe feeling about it.

The Tilted Keg’s clientele was almost entirely civilians, with one stand-out exception. He wore the red and white tunic of a soldier, but with the broad sword of an officer. He was also the only one in the tavern who sat alone.

Duromar stepped up to the bar. The barman, a generously sized man in his middle years with a shock of brilliant red hair, nodded at him.

He made a quick perusal of the menu. “The roasted trout, is that freshly caught from the river?”

“Aye. We’ve got a few dedicated fishermen in the keep. Fishing is good in the morning.”

Duromar laid down a gold coin. “I’ll take two, and a pitcher of ale.” He nodded towards the table with the single soldier. “Looks like the only table with room. Think he’ll mind if I join him?”

The barman scratched his chin. “Who, Erig? The company would probably be good for him.” He picked up an empty pitcher as he spoke, and filled it from the keg behind himself. “Pitcher. One of the girls will bring your food.”

Erig looked up when Duromar came up to the table. He asked in a low rumble, “Mind if I join you? Lunchtime rush, if you know what I mean.”

Erig looked confused, but after a moment just shrugged.

After the fish arrived, he made some effort at small talk. “New bounty hunter?”

Duromar snorted. “As of an hour ago. News travels fast, I guess.”

Erig shook his head. “It was either that or a new scout.”

The noise from the bar filled the air for a minute. “It’s because I’m half-ogre, isn’t it?” Duromar quietly asked.

Erig grimaced but nodded. “I’m trying to change things. Not a fan of prejudice.” He sighed.

Duromar finished the fish. “Huh. Just realized I never gave you my name. I’m Duromar.”

“Erig Cenkar. Commandant Cenkar to the soldiers.”

“Oh! Are you the commander of the entire fort?”

Erig shook his head. “That’s the Prefect, Bandrus Far’Raven. I’m in charge of the upper bailey.”

Duromar leaned back and chuckled. “Sounds like an important job.”

Erig managed to summon up the barest hint of a smile. “Some days.” With a sigh, he pushed his chair back. “A job that I should get back to. Good day to you, Duromar.”

Duromar raised his ale in a silent farewell. When the elven serving girl came by to clear the table, he dropped a gold piece on her tray, grinning at her startled expression. “Good meal.”

On his way out, though, one of the bouncers looked absolutely murderously at him while the other barely glanced at him. Very strange.

He spent the remainder of the day checking out the shops and crafts, losing more than four hours in the shop called Crazy Zedar’s. If there was a place in which anything could be found, this was it.

----

So there I was, sitting in a bar again. Maybe that’s all it was, I just felt a need to follow tradition. Anyway, tomorrow I go looking for the Mines of Chaos. Or possibly some lizardmen. Forgot to ask why they paid so well. Also, why does the name Erig sound so familiar?

P.S. Just reviewed my journal. Figured out why Erig was so familiar. I’ll have to discreetly ask about Melanee. I’m curious how that story ended.

----

Tarn’tera 3

Leaving the Keep was much more straightforward than entering was. There were no questions asked by the guards on the way out. Consulting the copy of the map he’d drawn, Duromar headed east down a mining trail. The map didn’t show the exact location of the various mines, but it did clearly indicate this was the trail to take.

The halflings were back on the main trail but didn’t seem too interested in those leaving the keep. Duromar wasn’t the only one getting an early start, either. A squad of cavalry heading out on a morning patrol rode out before him, taking the west road that led upstream. From the unhurried pace, it was likely a standard event.

Even at a good jog, it took half an hour to reach the fork in the trail. The fork heading southeast might have been a little more overgrown, but Duromar flipped a coin to pick his path and took that one anyway.

Ten minutes down that path led to an obvious mine entrance. Piles of rubble aside the entrance had small trees growing among the rocks, so the mine clearly hadn’t been used in years. Yet, in plain view in the entrance was a boot, a cap, and some gold looking coins.

Duromar nodded to himself at the obvious trap and readied his swords. There didn’t seem to be any creatures around the outside, so they were probably inside the mine.

He continued to creep forward, eyes flicking from side to side. There wasn’t anything obviously wrong, but the closer he got to the mine, the more certain he became that something was about to attack.

As he set foot in the cave, it finally happened. Teeth popped out of small gaps in the floor, and the entire mine entrance tried to bite him. It was only his cautious approach that let him step back instead of becoming a meal. Duromar reflexively swung and hit [-34] once, but the second blow cleanly missed as the creature dropped to the ground and stopped moving. [+1024 E.P., +2 honor]

It was some sort of very large stony lizard-like creature. High-backed, a bit like a chameleon would be. Some kind of specialized mimic, no doubt. Duromar stepped around the creature, but the rest of the mine went less than a hundred feet before a collapse was visible. With no visible treasure, he hacked the creature apart to see what it had swallowed. No gems, but a fair bit of coin. Also, a single boot and a cap.

Ten minutes back up the trail, he took the northeast fork. It was a shorter trip down that path, and it led to another cliff-face cave entrance. This one was a bit higher up, with a switchback path leading to it.

The path was full of boot tracks, many of them recent. Looking at the scree on the slope, he couldn’t be sure if the mine was active as a mine or not. Much of it was overgrown, but there were some that wasn’t.

With both swords out, he moved up the trail and into the mine entrance, surprising two orcs who were obviously supposed to be on guard. Two swift blows on the first orc [-15] cut him down [-19], and followed-through to lightly hit the second orc.

Under the sudden stress of the attack, the second orc drew his sword and attacked instead of raising the alarm, Duromar cut hit down a moment later [-23], and silence fell. [+74 E.P.]

He sliced off ears and took weapons, but didn’t bother to strip the corpses for armor. Not a single coin on either one, oddly.

He headed further in, taking the left fork. Not far in, he saw flickering light coming from a side chamber. Five orcs were lounging about in there, likely resting. Orcs were mostly nocturnal after all.

Duromar burst into the chamber, swinging swords with no thought to defense. He hit [-14] them [-16] with [-17] every [-29] swing [-14] he [-15] made [-17] before [-16] they could even get up. [+185 E.P.]

No coins here either.

Puzzled, Duromar continued deeper into the mine. There only seemed to be one more chamber, but he could see a raised basket and winch system that resembled a crude elevator. Heading that way, he stepped into the room to discover it was already occupied. Judging from the boxes and crates stored here, probably the leader.

Duromar noted that he held a longsword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He wasn’t certain, but he thought it was the first two-weapon fighter he’d come across. Not that it helped, as he swung both swords first, hitting [-19] both [-19] times. [+202 E.P., +1 honor]

Duromar sighed, muttering to himself. “I have so much more sympathy for Saitama now.”

Searching the boxes yielded trade goods, looted from caravans no doubt. He grabbed the rope, which looked to be a 500-foot length, and some of the sausage. The rest of it, especially the horse gear, he’d have to come back for. Searching the bedroll found a ledger book of some sort, but still yet no coin. The leader turned out to be a half-orc, so Duromar left his ears, deciding that it set a bad precedent to collect ears from half-human races.

With nothing more to do, Duromar climbed into the basket and headed down.

----

The mine tunnels below were quiet and empty of all life. They ran somewhat haphazardly, suggesting the miners were inexperienced at mining. It didn’t take long to explore the winding passages, but there was one that had a slight breeze. It ran for nearly two miles before coming out into a verdant valley.

There were tracks here as well, if not quite so many as at the entrance--Duromar looked behind himself to check--on the other side of the mountain. This must be one of the passages orcs were using to get through these mountains.

According to the map, he was possibly half a mile from the Mines of Chaos now, if this was the correct valley. Pulling out some sausage to eat as he walked, Duromar headed in the direction he thought was correct.

It wasn’t long at all before the valley ended in a box valley. He stopped and looked at the various cave openings, some clearly braced with timbers, spread at a variety of heights around the box. Narrow trails could be seen from most of them. He couldn’t say it was an exact match for what he’d pictured, but there was no doubt, these were the Mines of Chaos.

He grinned and started forward. It was a smorgasbord of every variety of humanoid monster and every possible trap you could--he came to an abrupt halt.

Every mine had numerous traps protecting it. He might be tough enough to survive them, but with no ability to detect or disarm them, he would set off every single one, send up alarms to every creature there, and no matter how good he was, he could be brought down if injured from traps and overwhelmed with opponents.

Turning back, he retraced his path to the smaller mine and headed back to the keep. He needed to hire a thief.

----

Getting into the keep was much easier the second time. The guards were different but handed over a clay shard as soon as his papers were shown. Handing over the clay shard to the second set of guards, he paused to think when they asked about trade goods.

“Possibly, yes. I found some food supplies in an orc hideout. Probably from some caravan. Does that count as trade goods?”

“Should, yes. How much did you find?”

Duromar shrugged. “200 pounds of hemp rope, 300 pounds of sausage, 100 pounds of rice, and 300 pounds of salted fish.”

The guard blinked. “You’re not carrying that with you right now.”

He shook his head. “Just the rope. Thought I might need it.”

“Right. Well, if you plan to sell all that, haul it to the common warehouse. You can drop the rope off now. That’ll sell easy.”

Duromar then got his first look inside the warehouse. There were boxes, barrels, and bales stacked up on the walls, plus two full wagons and a cart parked inside. Directed to the man in charge by a porter, he was bruskly greeted by a Rorey Tenderfelt, the Quartermaster.

His rope, on the other hand, was treated with care. It was meticulously tagged with his name and then hung on a wall peg. Duromar, never having met a military quartermaster before, had no one to compare Rorey to, however… He also recorded it in a logbook, detailing the exact peg it was hung on. All that, for an item worth ten gold at best.

Duromar wandered back out a minute later, bemused. He absently noted that the pillory was now empty of yesterday’s prisoner. Pulling his head back out of the clouds, he headed right back out the gate, nodding to the guard on the way out. “Be right back. Need to pick up some rice and fish.”

----

The trip was uneventful both ways. A round trip took him less than an hour, even though he had to walk on the way back. While the actual weight didn’t slow him down, the bulk was substantial. He took great delight in the gaping expressions on the guards on the way in and headed directly to the warehouse again.

“Got the rest of it,” he said, lightly placing the half-ton load on the ground. The four porters had to work together to break down the load just to start moving it.

Sadly, Rorey was a tough man to impress. The entire haul was carefully logged and placed together, and a detailed receipt issued. Duromar had the feeling that his goods were in good hands.

----

He visited the paymaster next. Frowler seemed pleasantly surprised to see him back so soon.

“Excellent. All seven pairs look good.” He recorded the numbers, then threaded the ears onto a string that already held a fair number of orc ears. “I had a good feeling about you. Between you and Gurge, I suspect the Orc population is going to be dropping quite fast soon.”

“Gurge?”

Frowler nodded as he placed 14 gold on the counter. “He just came back today. These other ears are from his work. Damn good bounty hunter.”

“Huh. I’ll have to try and meet him.”

“Try the Tilted Keg. He’ll spend a night there, and then I won’t see him again for two weeks.”

Duromar nodded in thanks and swept the gold into his pocket. He again dropped off weapons and armor in his room, and then headed to the tavern, wondering if Gurge was any good with traps.

----

The barkeep was startled when Duromar asked if he could point out Gurge. After bursting out with a joyous laugh, he gestured at the next biggest fellow in the room; Gurge, the half-ogre.

Probably not an expert with traps.

Duromar stood at the bar and finished his ale. Placing his empty mug down with another coin got the barkeep’s attention again.

“You know, I don’t think I ever asked your name.”

“Ha. Jarl Pakor, owner of the Titled Keg.”

“Nice place.” He set down ten gold coins. “I need some discreet information.”

Jarl crossed his arms, not reaching for the coins. “What kind?”

“I need some help on a delve. Someone good with traps.”

His face turned hard. “And locks?”

Duromar shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt, but traps are the real problem.”

Jarl thought for a moment and swept the coins into his hand. “Fighting?”

“I’ll handle most of that,” he said with quiet confidence.

“I know someone.” Jarl paused and spoke quietly. “Mines of Chaos?”

Duromar just nodded.

“Don’t waste your time with Gurge. He won’t go anywhere near them, not anymore. But I’ve got someone in mind, I think she’ll be up for it. How should she find you?”

“I rented a room above the armorer. Oh, you wouldn’t be interested in salted cod, would you?”

Jarl’s expressive face clearly said ‘what the hell?’ just before his mouth did. “What the hell? Where did that come from?”

Intentionally misunderstanding, Duromar said “Took a barrel off some orcs who probably stole it from a caravan. It’s in the warehouse with rice and sausage and a couple of other food things, I forget exactly.”

Jarl snickered, then started laughing, finally turning away and holding his sides as he laughed until it must have hurt. He managed to squeeze out, “...fishy story…” before losing himself to laughter again.

Duromar chuckled along with him, then flipped another gold piece on the bartop. “I could go for another pair of trout and a pitcher of ale, whenever it’s ready.”

Jarl waved him away, still grinning merrily.

The pitcher came to his table a minute later, brought by the only elf he’d seen in the bar. The elven serving girl’s smile more closely resembled bared teeth, and it certainly didn’t reach her eyes. She moved not like the dancing girls, but like an assassin, ready to pull out her belt knife and stab--wait, why did she have a dagger in her belt?

Intrigued, Duromar spent much of the night watching her work. Unfortunately, he somehow missed the increasingly hostile looks one of the bouncers kept giving him the more he watched her.

----

It's strange. Lately, I've felt like there's a conflict between my instincts and my knowledge. But not wholly unfamiliar, it's akin to the conflict between roleplaying and metagaming. Need to think about this more.

I suspect Gurge knows exactly where the mines are. Sounds like he tried going in once, and now considers them too dangerous to attempt. Because of traps, I’d bet. I suppose patience-

----

There was a knock at Duromar's door. Opening it revealed a human woman with long hair that covered half her face. "You the trap expert?"

She nodded. He gestured for her to come in. "I just want to keep this simple. I'll handle fighting, you handle traps. I get two shares of monster treasure, you get two shares of locked chest loot."

"Fine. Just us two?"

"Should be all we need."

"I'm in. Call me Brigitte."

"Duromar."

She turned and walked out. Duromar called after her, "First watch tomorrow, main gate." She waved a hand absently without slowing down or looking back.

----

Nevermind, forget patience. Tomorrow, chaos.

P.S. [Damage: +357 E.P] & [Converting 4 honor to 1 Honor]

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Name: Duromar

E.P.(+5%): 17685

Next Level: 24001

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Name: Brigitte

Race: Human

Class: Thief

Level: 2

Next Level: 2501 E.P.

Sex: Female

Alignment: CN

E.P.(+10%): 1251

Str: 14/26

Dex: 25/14

Con: 11/67

Int: 8/15

Wis: 10/46

Cha: 8/51

Com: 9/30

Hon: 15

Fame: 3

AC

Hacking or Crushing

Puncturing

Front

-2

-1

Flank or Rear

7

8

HP: 23

Move: 12”

Reaction: +9

ToP: 11

FF: 5

Fatigue Check: 11

Weapon

Spd

Atk

S

M

L

BSL

Short Bow

RoF: 2

+10

d8+2

d8+2

d8+2

6

Daggers (2)

-12

+1

d6+2

d6+1

d6

-3

Backstab

-12

+5

2d6+2

2d6+1

2d6

1

Flaws: Facial Scar, Enmity toward Gnomes

Scars: Upper Left Face

STP: WP Dagger, WP Short Bow, Shaving/Grooming, Armor Maintenance, Weapon Maintenance, Tough Hide; Thief Skills: Pick Pockets 60%, Open Locks 65%, Find Traps 75%, Remove Traps 75%, Move Silently 60%, Hide in Shadows 60%, Detect Noise 30%, Climb Walls 60%, Read Languages 0%

Equipment: Daggers (6), Short Bow, Leather Armor, Clothing (Tunic, Breeches, Laced Jerkin, Belt, Gloves, Riding Boots); Belt Pouch (Flint & Steel, Sharpened Coin, Small metal mirror, 2gp, 1sp); Backpack (Lockpick Set, Crowbar, Hacksaw, Sheaf Arrows (100), Silk Rope (100 ft.), Soap, Wineskin); Riding Horse (Riding gear, 500 arrows, 4 weeks rations, Leather armor, Silk Rope (100 ft.))

Background:

Age: 17 Handedness: Ambidextrous

Height: 5’10” Weight: 137 lbs.

Social: ULC Family: 2nd of 3, Parents still living, Average family honor