Drellin's Ferry
After setting down the squirrel from his right shoulder and the small bird flying off his left shoulder, Kulin hastily speaks, “I agree, we need to move on to Drellin’s Ferry. We have been too long away from the town that asked for our help and we cannot stop this horde by ourselves.”
Glok anxious to fly back to the town nods his feather head in agreement while spitting seeds from his beak.
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Bo grinds one fist into the palm of his other hand as if awaiting an argument, adding, “If we stay and take out the giant we can deliver a powerful blow to this Kulkor Zhul, or whatever they call themselves and crush their morale or at the very least if we encounter them again that is one less giant to have to worry about,”
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“I agree with you to an extent Bo, but we really do need to get back. Their forces are becoming tougher to fight and time is of the essence,” says Kulin, laying a calming hand on the proud shoulder of the dwarf.
Smiling, Bo looks to the gold coin in his hand and laughs, “Yes, actually it is time to go back to town.”
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After several hours traveling back to Drellin's, a dead horse is found on the road with several arrows protruding from the remains. Bo bends down and looks to the group identifying the arrows as goblin; the horse belonged to Jorr.
As the Heros enter town they are greeted by an advanced patrol of guards not far from the town's river, the Elsir. Kulin, Brandar and to a lesser extent Darkman are greeted by the patrol and smiles broaden their faces. After fording the river and checking into the Old Bridge Inn, someone comes to offer to take their belongings to wash and hem their clothes. As Brandar sniffs his armpits and Kulin looks to his singed and bloodied vest and pants they readily agree.
Shortly after going downstairs to find town Speaker Wiston and Captain Soranna they find them both parties in the tavernroom with a few other notables.
Kulin correctly surmises and tells Bo, "this has to be the rest of the town council or the important people of the town who count."
"Good, It's time to collect my gold!," rumbles Brandar.
Speaker Wiston stands and waves over Brandar and Kulin to join them at the table, "Cormanin lindua ele govennan, Brandar and Kulin," nodding to both of them.
"It is good to see you in good health as well Speaker," Kulin replying in dwarven.
Brandar shaking the apparently almost empty belt pouch at his side and grumbling, "Ale, Aye, I need some Ale here!"
Accompanying Wiston and Soranna at the table are clearly the other members that make up the town council. The first is a middle aged woman who introduces herself as Delora Zann. Tall and broad shouldered one can see that she carries herself with confidence and appears to be a no nonsense sort of woman. She tells you that she at one time belonged to a band of adventures named “The Golden Drake Company,” now retired.
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Moving to her right is an old man named Imorel. Tall with a halo of tangled white hair, his face always appears to be in a sneer. Imorel is a wealthy land owner and has been on the town council for more than 30 years.
The halfling sitting to the right of Imorel, introduces himself as Kellin Shadowbanks, head of the halfling clan here in Drelling’s Ferry. Good natured and affable, Kellin has brown hair, dressing in silks, rare in this area, with a fashionable broad-belted waistcoat.
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"We have very pressing business to attend to Speaker, so I will get right to it. Drellin's Ferry is going to be sacked in the very near future," says Kulin as he very carefully eye's every member at the table to get the point across.
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“More Ale!!!!” bellows Brandar from the table that they are all sitting at.
Kulin ignores the bellicose dwarf and snaps his finger. At once, the table seemingly comes to life: the surface waves as mounds form, miniature trees sprout up along the edges, and a bridge forms over a chasm. The table has become a shadowy, though life-like map.
“My companions and I have traveled beyond the bridge. What we saw defies words.” Four figures are seen moving across the bridge and crawling up a hill. As they peer over, the virtual map shifts, revealing a plain populated by a monstrous army thousands and thousands strong. Above the troops, fly several dragons. The larger red one, grows and grows, making several of the townsfolk visibly uncomfortably. The red dragon continues to grow as it flaps its wings around the room. When it becomes the size of the entire room, it lets out a fiery breath and disappears.
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Waiting a few moments to let everyone soak in everything they saw, Kulin continues, “We have done everything in our power to stop this horde. We have destroyed the bridge, we have fought numerous battles.” The table sprouts the four heroes as they battle hobgoblins, giants, and a dragon.
“However,” the figures disappear and Kulin jumps on the table, “there is nothing, nothing that can be done against such a force. You have no choice. You must head to Brindol.”
Taking in a small breath and allowing the town council to absorb what just transpired, Imorel turns even more pasty than is normal for his old age. A few small claps come from Shadowbanks, “Job well done Kulin, We here have no doubt what you say is true but we are a little confused. We have this letter delivered by the dying Jorr.”
Imorel gains composure once again gaining some bravado now that the spectacle that Kulin wove is now gone, “YES your letter said all was well and that the threat was stopped, signed by your own hand,” as he slams his open palm on a sheet of paper on the table, sliding it over to Kulin in the same motion.
“Where is our sllmoney, I mean money” proclaims the inebriated Brandar.
Ignoring Brandar, Kulin reaches for the letter and begins to read it. In the short moments It takes the gnome to read the letter the town council begins to chatter. The common room is packed with villagers straining to get word of what is the latest with the trouble infesting Drellin’s Ferry.
“Speaker and Council members this letter is a fraud. Clearly someone has created this in hope that your measures to evacuate the town are stalled. No doubt hoping that they were going to capture or kill us and you would be none the wiser. You must make preparation now! I sent the riders you gave us, apparently they did not make it back?” informs Kulin.
Imorel stands with the aid of his cane, now red faced, “No they did not! We were going to pay you to stop this and you have not. Now you tell us we need to leave all we know and love. Cannot we make a stand at the Elsir River and defend what we have!”
Delora eases Imorel back to his seat, “Kulin and company we thank you for what you have done, It seems that all the attacks on the town have all but stoped…”
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“Part of the plan no doubt in making the letter more believable,” as Kulin cuts in.
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“That may be the case, but too much is at stake. My vote is to move to Terrelton at the very least and wait for more word. It is my suggestion to the Council that we pay these able warriors what is due to them, 500 gold per person I believe, Wiston?”
Soranna speakes “shall I make the arrangements for the exodus?”
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“Yes to both,” Replies the Speaker.
As the last ends of the meeting are coming to close a commotion begins to form at the enterence to the tavern. A giant, heavily tanned human strolls through the front door with a woman in tow. Caked dirt and sweat permeate the large man. Emblazoned upon his chest is the face of the Sun God, Pelor. Upon his battered shield are the markings that place him as a Lion of Brindol, the Dukes elite guard.
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As people make an open path for the man and his companion to the bar, Brandar spies a glimpse of the human through his ale filled, impaired eyes, “I CALL CHALLENGE! A TEST OF STRENGTH AND HONOR,” roars a drunk Bo. The human smiles and makes his way to the table.
In a deep voice hoarse with dust, “My name is Tayano Suri, Lion of Brindol, sent by Lord Jarmaath to investigate the rumblings west of Drellin’s Ferry. Word has spread that the area is in turmoil. My traveling companion is Caliayssa, favored of Pelor,” glancing to the woman behind him.
Events are discussed and Tayano adds, “The Rhest trail leading north is cut off. There is a barracks blocking the way in or out, staffed with Hobgoblins and several Ogres. If what you say is true then we will not be able to send information out for reinforcements or use that as an escape route for the villages if need be.”
“ARM WRESTLE ME IF YOU DARE HUMAN!” yells Bo flexing his massive arms.
A stressed smile crosses the face the Lion, “I shall when I am finished here.”
“If you wish I would like to lend you Caliayssa’s aid, for I fear you will need it,” Tayano offers.
The offer is accecpted, the debt in gold is paid, the test of strength, left for talk around the campfire as the legend of Tayano and the might of Pelor grows among the towns folk. Plans are made to evacuate the village and the hero’s make their leave in the morning.
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