Chapter One: The Road to Gnometon

[Keehnelf]

The dwarves of the great mountain enjoy cordial relations with their immediate neighbors to the east, the doughty gnomes of Gnometon. They have been allies in the ongoing struggle against the incursions of the Fire Tribe out of the north, and invaluable trading partners in a sometimes-inhospitable land.

The road to Gnometon winds gently among the range of hills known as Darmon's Reach by the dwarves, and it is broad enough for two wagons to pass and well-paved with good dwarven craftsmanship. There are markers every quarter-mile along the thirty-one mile stretch between the mountain's east gate and the outer limits of gnomish territory.

The party, having slowly but certainly built up its anxiety over the journey during the past few days, is relieved to be traveling along known roads, at least for a time, before setting out into the deep and dangerous wild. The dozen travelers and their three pack mules make for a mighty caravan along the roadway under one of the first clear skies of late winter. Spring is still far away, but it almost feels like the more optimistic of the band can hear its subtle whisper from far off.

Even on such an excellent road, a large party like this with pack animals can only hope to cover fifteen or sixteen miles in a day, so plans are made to expect arrival in Gnometon after two days of swift travel, if no delays should occur along the route. The people of the great mountain wish their heroes well, and they are off.

---

The group has just hit the first mile-marker, deeply engraved with runes of protection and safekeeping, when the silence of travel is broken suddenly.

"Look," shouts Striborg. "I know you don't approve of types like me, from the gutter and what, but I'll not have you giving me the ogre's eye this entire trip!" He's poking a finger at Crabanth, who does his best to haughtily ignore the comment, but he does indeed give the convict the ogre's eye, looking at him sidelong with contempt. "I just wanted to say it now--I signed on for this job just the same as the lot of you and I don't appreciate being made to feel unwelcome when we're all headed to death and worse together."

He begins to sulk, crosses his arms and lags behind the rest of the party somewhat, though he does keep pace.

[Zorroroaster]

He listens to the bickering between Striborg and Crabanth, furtively raising an amused eyebrow towards Lorik as they walk along the road. When the acrimony has died down somewhat, he clears his throat.

"Indeed. It would seem Death gives each of us the ogre's eye in equal measure, regardless of our station. I know of your crimes Striborg, but I am not your judge. I sense the violence seething within you. Let us hope we can channel that energy for good and not further evil, yes? Crabanth, we have all committed crimes, some obvious, some ...hidden. The same can be said of our virtues. Look for those, instead of staring a man down in provocation."

When he rose in the morning, Nai Tnam prayed for the following spells:

Level 1
Command
Cure Light Wounds
Cure Light Wounds
Detect Magic
Sanctuary

Level 2
Chant
Hold Person
Hold Person
Silence 15' Radius
Speak with Animals

Level 3
Prayer

[Zhym]

"The past is the past," says Fjirn. "Whatever crimes any of you might have committed, they no longer matter. Our only chance of success in this perilous mission is if we each believe in the importance of our quest, work together, and, as much as possible, trust each other.

"You are not conscripts. Anyone in our company, regardless of his history, is free to leave at any time. That means that anyone who stays is putting his life on the line the same as the rest of us and deserves an equal share of respect."

This is overdue, but let's make the wand a Wand of Dispel Magic Monster Summoning I and make the runestone Knock. I'll also put the feather token, potion of sweet water, and potions of water breathing on Fjirn's sheet just so someone is carrying them.

Edited because it's probably a waste of a wand to have it be a spell clerics can already cast.

[Sol]

"Hrmph, says Unther, "I agree. I am not the King and I have no reason to keep anyone here against his will. There is precious little treasure to be found on an errand such as this, and as our friend has reminded us, definitely plenty of death to go round. I am here to protect King and Kingdom. And to bring glory to my line."

"Yet I am not the King nor am I the town guard. Should any dwarf wish to depart, here, at the outermost border of our territory, I will consider you a casualty of the journey and will tell the others so. The woodland is capable of swallowing any of us whole.

"For any who stay, I will defend you and call you brother until the end of our journey and, for good or ill, we are bound in service forever."

He turns to Striborg. "So tell us now, comrade of the first mile. Do you wish your freedom from this mission? Do go now with our well wishes. Or do you wish instead to stay by the path of honor and gain a name for yourself that may erase any doubt of your character from your brothers and your homeland?"

Unther eyes this man and waits to see his response.

[KingOfCowards]

"For better or worse, we are all of the same station now. Sentenced to an early grave most likely, but we each chose this path for our own reasons. We are stronger as a group than we are alone, so let's do what we can to keep us at our strongest. Set your petty arguments aside and save your aggression for the Black Druid and his minions."

[hedgeknight]

"Agreed. Quit yer bitchin' and focus on the task at hand. If the gods wish to hold us accountable for our sins, there ain't a damn thing we can do about it! Fight bravely, fight as kin, and die with a blade in yer hands > what more is there for a warrior's life?"

[ybn1197]

Grim keeps his head down as the group talks about and to Striborg. He knew full well what the man intended to do; he just hoped the man would reconsider. Grim had done some things in his past that he wasn't proud of and hoped this quest would redeem him. "Not all of us are warriors though. There is more to life than fighting or smithing." As soon as he said it, Grim wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Those who are noticed are caught. Those who were quiet and unseen were not caught.

[Keehnelf]

Striborg seems a bit taken aback at the range of responses. Perhaps he expected only venom from the rest of the group; perhaps he expected no response at all. Whatever the cause, he screws his mouth up tight when he realizes it's hanging open, and casts his eyes downward, keeping quiet the rest of the day.

Crabanth, for his part, retains his haughty look but seems a bit less self-assured now that he understands the sentiment of the party isn't wholly behind him in continued condemnation of the convicted murderer. He keeps one hand on the pommel of his sword as the party travels, however: just in case.

The day is full of faint, watery light as the group winds its way along the level but twisting road that passes among the dry and sour Saltpeter Hills east of the Great Mountain. The mile markers go by slowly, one after the other, and the quiet of the landscape is only rarely interrupted by the sound of small rocks falling against one another nearby or the singing of a thrush come to hunt in vain for worms in the alkaline dirt. In the late afternoon, the party spies another group on the road ahead, and makes itself ready for possible battle. From a distance, however, they make out the banner of the Badger Knights of Gnometon flying from an upraised lance among the mounted travelers, and their stance eases somewhat.

The two parties slowly approach one another, and the group finds themselves face to face (a hundred feet or so apart) a half-dozen mounted Badger Knights, so-called because of the dire badgers they use as mounts. The armored gnomes look almost like petite dwarves in their heavy plate armor, sporting lances and kite shields gaily decorated with the arms of their noble gnomish families, insignia such as baking pies, apples cores and interlocking gears borne with as much pride as a dwarf's heraldry of hammer, flame and dragon. A few snickers arise from the assembled dwarves at the garish sight of the assembled gnomish knights, but the gnomes either cannot hear or pretend not to.

After a brief conference between the leader and another of the knights, the leader rides a few paces forward, raises his helmet's ornate visor and calls out in a high, nasal voice: "Who seeks passage on the King's Road? I am Ashbury Barrowsalve the Forty-Ninth, Badger Knight of Gnometon and Captain of the Valiant Basket-Weavers Regiment, tasked with patrolling and securing the safety of this stretch of highway. What is your business?"

[Zorroroaster]

Nai Tnam stands at an easy rest, one hand placed on Lorik's shoulder. He is glad for the break in their marching, the long day's hike has left him sore and a little tired, though it doesn't show. His eyes twinkle a little at the sight of the gnomes bristling with armour and weaponry and a smile creeps around his mouth somewhat, but he remains silent.

He looks at Fjirn to speak on the party's behalf.

[hedgeknight]

"Now, that's a sight ya don't see every day," Dell says with a smile and a chuckle. He lifts his hand and shield in greeting and steps forward. "Greetings Captain! I am Dell Redsword. Me and my companions are traveling to your city on king's business. Mayhap we could sit and discuss it over a pint or two."

[Zhym]

Since Dell seemed to do a fine job of hailing the gnomes, Fjirn just waits to see how the gnomes respond.

[Keehnelf]

The Captain's badger shrugs uncomfortably under his knees, and looks up inquiringly at its rider, then lifts one large paw and scratches lazily behind an ear. "King's business, eh? Well, I'll be the judge of that! What kind of business? I'll not be opening the gates for anyone until I get a straight answer!"

The voice is shrill, and clearly used to being obeyed.

[hedgeknight]

Dell scratches his beard and looks at Fjirn. "Might outta turn this discussion over to you. Don't seem to have the proper words fer the hamster rider up there," he says in a loud whisper. He turns back to the gnomes and nods and smiles.

[Sol]

"Our mission is to return to our King with the Black Druid's head," says Unther. "We bring intelligence on his movements and hope to gain the support of your people in turn." Unther introduces himself to the knights, nodding low with respect, then awaiting a reply.

[KingOfCowards]

Gideon attempts to interrupt his way into the conversation, but the other dwarves seem to be handling it. He stays quiet except for a handful of incidental grumbles and nods, while watching the conversation take place between his comrades and the shrilly-voiced gnome, and tries his best to look important.

[Keehnelf]

The captain seems a bit unnerved by the reference to the Black Druid. "Ehhh--" he begins, then thinks better of opening his mouth while only wind can emerge. After a few moments of silence, he begins again. "Well, I'm not sure the King of the Hill will be all that pleased with putting you up, but political decisions like these aren't my responsibility. If you don't mind, we'll approach and our chaplain will do a quick scan of your party for ill intent, and if you check out we'll move along and leave you to continue to Gnometon."

[Zorroroaster]

Lets hope Striborg is thinking happy thoughts!

[Zhym]

Fjirn steps forward and calls out to the gnome captain. "Hold a moment, if you would. My name is Fjirn Fjrinsson. I have been charged by the King of the Firedeep Clan with leadership of this mission. I consider each dwarf you see before you to be under my care, regardless of what he or she may have done in the past.

"We understand your need for caution in these times despite the long history of friendship between our peoples, and we respect your border protocols. However, I believe a dwarf must decide for himself whether to allow magical divination of his intent. Please allow us to confer. If all here in our company agree to have their minds probed, your chaplain may proceed."

[Keehnelf]

The gnome nods in assent before returning to confer with his companions as well.

As the group gathers for conference, Striborg immediately puts his hand to the pommel of his sword. "They're well armored but small. If I get a head-start into the rough terrain, I should be able to get two before they even have a chance to get a bead on me."

[Zhym]

Fjrin smiles gently at Striborg. "I appreciate your enthusiasm," he says, "but please leave your blade where it is. We have come here for help, not to start a war between dwarves and gnomes. Fear not; I'm sure our mission will present you with many opportunities to use your blade ere long."

"Do I gather from your response that you do not want your intentions probed by their chaplain?"