Completed Its Actually A Bush!

[Filn Stenlager]

Some time ago, you were hired to travel along with a dwarven caravan headed for Falwood. Perhaps you're a sellsword. Perhaps you like adventure. With the troop being small enough to make it worth while, the portal stone at Belgrath was used to the Allir Reach, and a convoy of horse drawn carriages and covered wagons was procurred.

Evening
The sun nearly set

You've been travelling for weeks, and now as you make your way through a small woodland valley...

Ambushed!​

Dozens of arrows come flung from the surrounding trees and brush, and the cries of bandits charging into battle fill the air.

Defend yourself!​

 

[Roan Dorn]

THUNK!

The attack had come out of nowhere. An arrow sunk into the face of the Kite Shield on Roan's left arm as he raised it for cover, angling it into his shoulder as a brace and ducking his head behind it. When the volley had ended his head rose to see a man beside him who had fallen back against a wagon with an arrow lodged in chest.

Probably dead, he thought.

A battlecry had filled the air, the bandits came rushing from the surrounding trees and brush. Setting his right hand across the hilt of his arming sword he would have unsheathed it with a single pull before wading forward. When he came upon the first bandit to charge in at him Roan turned his shield forward to absorb a downwards chop from the mans sword then followed by swinging his own weapon diagonal, shoulder to waist and cutting a clean path across the chest of his target. The Bandit fell, lifeless or close to it.

"To Arms! Defend the wagons!"

In his Chainmail, yelling loudly Roan made an easy target of himself; he'd rally the men he could and move forward to engage again. Just another day.

 

[Filn Stenlager]

"Bloody elves and their damn..." his gravely voice lowered to a mumble for a little bit, only to abruptly rise to be audible once again, "what the hell kind of Falwood elf builds of stone anyway? Y'ever heard of this shit?"

The dwarf across from him, Gnor, only grunted in response.

The pair of them sat in a carriage which bounced along the beaten path, and between them on an upturned crate was a picture. More than that though, it was a picture of a tower. Oh! And the tower was knocked down. Big whoop right? Well not exactly... he was hired to fix it. Well, more than hired. More like bound by an age old blood oath, that yeah he knew about but fuck.

Why couldn't this have happened the last generation? Or the next? Screw you, old man, barely scraped by this one.

THUNK!

"What in hell..?"

Filn's eyes lifted from the picture to the door of the carriage to see an arrowhead sticking through, and then the carriage was peppered with a few more followed by the shouting.

"Oh for the love'a rubble!"

He grabbed up each of his axes which were leaned against the seat just beside him, and booted open the door. He roared out and leapt from the opening, launching himself into an unlucky bandit who took his axe in the side of the head.

"Hah!" He declared, wrenching it free, "fuck with my caravan will yas!?"

"To Arms! Defend the wagons!"

Ahh, someone with a clear head on his shoulders. You never really knew until the steel met.

"Yeeeehhaa!" he roared, sweeping his axes across to sever another bandits legs and then lodge one in his back with a great swing. He grabbed it up, and hustled toward Roan. A pair of bandits were coming up quickly behind him.

He ran as quickly as his little legs would carry, "behind ya laddie! Down!"

And he hurled one of his axes straight toward Roan, followed by the second.

Then he was kicked over by another foe he'd not anticipated, and fell to the ground with an Ooof!

​

Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

Roan had used his Shield to plant another Bandit on his back in the dirt before he drove his sword down into the mans stomach then withdrew it once he'd seen the man stiffen. A shout alerted him to danger then, he'd looked up and seen one of the Dwarves drawing his arm back to hurl an axe.

He'd thrown himself onto his stomach then. As the first axe was thrown, whirling over him to plant itself into the chest of one of the attackers intent on skewering him from behind he'd have rolled onto his back. A second axe followed downing the other bandit shortly after the first, the impact of which had caused the man to jerk backwards after contact was made.

A moment later and Roan was climbing back onto his feet slowly, quickly turning his head to survey the carnage around him. When he saw the Dwarf on the ground beset by an attacker of his own he moved to assist. The Arming Sword came down when he was within reach, cutting down a diagonal path they chewed into the meaty part of the body where shoulder and neck met one another sending arterial spray from the wound as Roan finished by jerking his arm back to saw the blade of the sword through the wound. The Bandit fell dead, Roan stood behind him looking down at the Dwarf.

"Rest all you like after the battle is done."...he chuckled, Roan wasn't without a sense of humor even if it was a dark one and he was thankful the Dwarf had saved him from the men looking to come at him from behind.

He waited, standing over the Dwarf so that he could regain his footing while turning to face the next Bandit. A clash of steel followed and Roan grunted something incomprehensible then stated..."All these Bandits. You must really have something they want."...it could have been time for him to renegotiate his own rate.

Filn Stenlager

 

[Filn Stenlager]

"Rest all you like after the battle is done."

"Ooohhohoho!" He laughed, dragging himself to his feet.

He quite liked this fellow, relaxed and controlled even in the thralls of battle. He hurried over and grabbed up his weapons, attacking another bandit who quickly approached. While the two fought an arrow pierced the bandit's leg, causing him to drop. Filn finished him.

."You must really have something they want."

It was a little mumbled, but being so close he was able to hear him enough.

"Aye laddie," he hollered over the sound of battle, engaging another approaching foe, "when this is over, I will show you!"


Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

All it took was a parry of his blade followed by the swing of his shield to plant the Bandit on the ground. As the man attempted to recover Roan stepped over him, turned the edge of his shield into the man and hammered it down against his clavicle until his body started to stiffen. When he heard the Dwarf calling over the thrums of battle he'd have said..."When this over you can pay me double too!"...the pitch of battle being the best time to discuss such things.

Other Sell swords, Mercenaries were engaging with the Bandits. Roan watched as men on both sides fell. He couldn't even tell how large the battle had become, if the numbers were only exaggerated in his head nor did he have the time to dwell on it.

Another arrow sailed in his direction and Roan raised his left arm to put his Kite between it and himself. The arrow sunk into the face of his shield joining the other that had been planted there earlier, this time the arrowhead actually penetrated the shield and Roan saw it punching out the other side above the forearm strapped there.

The Shield lowered, Roan swung his sword in a wide arc in front of him to ward off anyone who thought to close distance then the sound of a commotion caught his senses, he turned his head and saw a man attempting to take control of one of the wagons, kicking the driver off and reaching fro the reins and he'd call out to the Dwarf..."The wagon! They're trying to steal it!"...Roan had no idea what was loaded onto it, something valuable most likely. Turning he'd try to move in that direction to intercept.

Filn Stenlager

 

[Filn Stenlager]

The bandits seemed never-ending, but he could see their numbers start to dwindle. There were fewer and fewer appearing through the trees. He clashed with one for a time before he was reinforced by some other defenders. They began to gain the upper hand and then...

"The wagon! They're trying to steal it!"

Shit.

"Argh... we've got to stop them!"

He started toward the wagon, which already began to wheel away. He huffed and puffed as he pursued, but it was no use. Several of the defenders took after it on horses and gave chase. There were several horses about, spooked and riderless, but salvageable.

He would have to get one.

The next wagon in the procession was damaged, the wheel broken and the axle splintered. It blocked the path for any carriages for the time being.

He hustled toward one of the derelict steeds - but there were still bandits engaging the convoy, one of who decided to attack the now angered dwarf.

Filn flung himself into the man, releasing one axe from his grip and pulling a knife free, gutting his foe with it.

He stood again and made way for a horse hollering, "none of us will get anything without that damn wagon!"

Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

The Battle was slowing. the bandits numbers finally thinning out as the defenders started to beat them back. As Roan worked to intercept the wagon he was waylaid by another clash of steel as he and other men fought to defend the rest of the wagon train from the remaining attackers.

When he heard the Dwarfs voice Roan would look again in time to see the wagon wheeling away while several of the defenders pursued on horses. All Roan saw beyond that was the Dwarf viciously downing another attacker before securing a horse for himself...

"I'll catch up! Don't wait!"

...was all Roan called out, shouting over the sounds of battle before a fist collided with the side of his mouth. He stumbled, then turned towards another errant attack before finishing him in a short exchange that saw his sword thrust deeply into the man.

As his sword came free from another corpse, wrenched back by Roan's strong arm he'd have turned and moved towards one of the horses. Never a horseman Roan attempted to calm the spooked animal so that he could take it by the reins and wheel himself around beside it before mounting up. "Got to get that god damn wagon back!"...was all he'd have said as he balanced himself in the saddle and slid his feet into the stirrups.

A last look around indicated the defenders were forcing the remaining bandits away, causing them to flee back into the forest but as Roan urge his horse forward an arrow came out of the woods nearly striking him in the shoulder...

"Another volley!"

...he'd call, whoever was in the woods was likely covering the retreat and the wagon that was stolen now. All Roan did was lean into his horse to make a smaller target of himself as he charged ahead in pursuit.

Filn Stenlager

 

[Filn Stenlager]

Filn fought his way past a few more bandits before he caught up to a horse. He had no choice but to comfort it as well as he could before climbing his way onto it. It was something of an ordeal for a Dwarf to get onto a horse on his own, so you'd best make sure the horse is ready for your attempt.

So without much embarrassment, Filn managed himself atop the horse and took after the carriage. Arrows wizzed past him as he rode, and he shouted and hollered all kinds of obscenities out at the attackers, calling them many colorful names. But he struggled to catch up to the carriage, which was now some ways off.

Luckily a few of the first pursuers managed to engage it though, and slow it down. He rode hard to catch up, drawing close now.

The other wagons were also important to him and many other craftsmen with the caravan, since they carried many of their tools and other equipment. But the one which had been stolen carried something much more valuable than any one of those, and without what was aboard he would never be able to complete his task.

He wondered if it was dumb luck or if the bandits had been tipped off somehow.

Probably that damn merchant, he might have thought - the one who'd sold them the caravan. But who the hell knew right now anyway, he just needed that damn wagon.

Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

As the Horse charged ahead Roan continued to lean into it, making himself a smaller target as the volley of arrows he called out flew overhead. Riding away from the main caravan he'd have chanced a look back over his right shoulder to what appeared to be the defenders driving off the remainder of the Bandits.

Now only the wagon remained.

The Horse galloped ahead and thanks to the pursuers that had made ground on both him and the Dwarf it wasn't long before he saw the wagon being driven down the rode. The other men seemed to be having a difficult time of it though. Riding ahead Roan would come alongside the Dwarf, calling out as he did so...

"Damn Bandits will probably crash that wagon before they ever get it to wear it's going. We need to get on there. I'll handle the driver, you get the reins and slow that thing down!"

...then he turned his heel into the horse to spur it onwards, using the reins in his hand to snap the side of his mounts neck a time or two so that he could squeeze every ounce of speed out of it.

Veering to the side as he closed with the wagon he'd have seen one man, another pursuer leap from the back of his horse only to fall short and hit the dirt causing Roan to wince, he hoped the same fate didn't befall him and he wouldn't have to wait long to find out. Coming up alongside the wagon Roan prepared himself and then he jumped when he came closer to the drivers seat.

It didn't have an ounce of grace in it but it working. Tossing his shield in the process Roan would slam into the side of the wagons, beside the drivers seat where the Bandit was and a fist to the face welcomed him causing his head to reel backwards briefly. He'd almost lost his grip then, one of his legs slid and he felt it dragging along the dirt but he held on. The Bandit threw another punch and Roan ducked his head...

"Come here you son of a bitch!"

...all he growled out as he took the man in one hand, reefed backwards and pulled both himself and the bandit off of the wagon. Rolling as he made contact with the ground he'd groan, the Bandit did likewise. All Roan could hope for now was that the Dwarf was able to get up there and take control of the wagon before it went completely out of control.

Filn Stenlager

 

[Filn Stenlager]

Filn was quite vocal about his displeasure with the bandits as he rode he ducked and moved, all while managing to stay relatively well placed atop the fast moving horse. In the midst of the chase he spied a crossbow strapped to the side of his horse and he grabbed it. After a somewhat awkward fumbling with the bolt, he loaded it.

He fired off a few shots at some of the attackers, failing to achieve anything other than some rather aimless return fire. But damn, it'd be a cold day in hell before he'd let these deadbeats get away with his prize.

"Damn Bandits will probably crash that wagon before they ever get it to wear it's going. We need to get on there. I'll handle the driver, you get the reins and slow that thing down!"

He tried to holler back to him, but the old soldier stormed headlong into the fray. He grunted an affirmative respect for the man's valor. He, along with all the men, were definitely getting a raise after this horse shit.

He urged his horse onward, coming up on the wagon a few beats behind Roan. He'd already done away with one of the robbers and was currently engaged with the other. Filn rode up alongside the carriage and reached for it. It wavered to and fro, unguided. He shakily prepared himself to jump, and as the carriage veered near he leapt, and grabbed hold.

Just as his hands found purchase, he watched Roan and his foe descend to the ground and be left behind in a cloud of dust. His eyes grew wide. With his feet dangling over the edge of the hard moving vehicle he wrenched and pulled himself up, kicking his legs all the while.

He climbed aboard, and reeled on the reins to slow its horses. They began to slow, and the dwarf regained control of it, bring it to a halt. A couple of the pursuing defenders cantered up alongside, and praised him for his bravery.

He fell back into the seat with a grumbled sigh, and sat for a moment.

"Oh fuck!"

He thrashed the reins and wheeled the horses around, making haste back toward Roan.

Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

Falling off a wagon was never an experience you wanted to repeat, the fact that Roan had been wearing Chain Mail probably intensified the fall rather than cushion his impact with the ground. As he came up onto hands and knees after rolling he'd groan loudly, sucking in a breath while blinking his eyes to clear his vision.

To one side another groan was heard. Turning his head Roan looked at the Bandit he'd brought with him at about the same time the man was looking up him. A mad dash ensued.

Wobbling up onto his feet Roan reached for the arming sword sheathed over his left hip, pulling on it while the Bandit also came to his feet. The Arming Sword didn't come free on the first pull causing Roan to grunt...

"Fuck."

...another pull and nothing, the Bandit drawing a knife would start moving forward almost losing his footing in the process. Both men were obviously still feeling their fall...

"Come on."

...Roan's fingers were wrapped tightly around the hilt, reefing on the sword it would finally jerk out of the sheath as the Bandit drew closer. An diagonally upwards swing of the sword reminiscent of a draw cut would catch the Bandit across the chest causing the man to reel backwards however it hadn't been lethal. As the sword came up Roan would sweep it around, clamp his left hand onto the pommel for a double handed grip and bring it down with a howl allowing no time for his opponent to recover as the blade came down into the bandits skull, burying itself there.

When Roan heard the wagon coming back around he'd have stepped up, put his foot on the dead bandit and pulled the sword free of his skull before sheathing his weapon slowly. Raising his right hand he'd he stuck out his thumb and muttered...

"Give me a lift?"

...his horse was here, somewhere, probably wandering off the road and at this point Roan didn't care to go and find it. The Other Men who had given pursuit were starting to regroup as well.

Filn Stenlager

 

[Filn Stenlager]

"Haha!"

He laughed as he came to a halt next to Roan, and he extended a hand out to him to help him aboard. Once he was happily aboard, Filn carried on back toward the rest of the caravan.

"I thought that ingrate might have gotten ya, laddie," he laughed, giving the man a pleasant bump on the arm, "you'll all be gettin' raises after this shit for damn sure. Our employers, they're elves. Very rich." he waved his finger around all pretentious like, imitating an elf to the best of his ability, and then laughed, "and they need me to fix their tower. So I name the price."

He gave Roan a toothy smile before chuckling, "oh, yes."

He handed Roan the reins, and turned to duck his head into the carriage. He stuck his head and then half his body in through the small opening there. He reached, and reached for something within, and then finally started to pull himself out. Once he finally emerged once more, he had held in his hands a case which barely fit through the opening. He set it down between them with a grunt and a great thud.

"This is what they were after likely, how they knew about it I don't really know but..." he popped the case open. Inside was a magnificent hammer, the like of which had likely not been seen for over an age, "this here tool is nearly as old as Belgrath itself. It is a mason's tool..." he refrained from revealing much more about it for now - but the statement was an odd one.

It hardly looked like a craftsman's tool.

Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

An arm came up and he clamped his hand around Filn's forearm before using the Dwarfs assistance to haul himself up onto the bench next to him.

Rolling his shoulders then craning his neck from side to side carefully Roan would have looked over at his companion when the man gave him a hearty bump on the arm before laughing and replying...

"There have been better men who've tried. I don't die easy."

...Roan had seen his share of battle, usually smaller skirmishes or engagements but occasionally more men were involved. As a Soldier, a hired sword really he had no say where he fought or whom once he'd accepted a contract. Morality seemed to come into the equation rarely making things easier for him as well.

When Filn handed him the reins Roan kept his eyes on the road, steering the wagon carefully over any bumps or dips on their way back to the est of the caravan while occasionally turning his head to look back over his shoulder into the wagon and calling out...

"What are you doing back there!?"

...but when the Dwarf reappeared, a large case which barely fit through the opening he'd gone through Roan would look on with curiosity. Actually seeing the hammer that was contained inside of the case Roan seemed stunned briefly, it hadn't occurred to him that something that appeared so valuable would be in the back of one of these wagons. He listened as Filn told him that it was a tool but seemed skeptical...

"Bullshit. That thing is used to crush peoples skulls. Probably has some fairly potent magic attached to it as well. How's it going to help you rebuild a tower?"

...he understood Filn wasn't going to reveal everything to him and he accepted as much but Roan was still curious. The Wagon continued down the road as they spoke, it wouldn't be long before they returned to the main caravan. Roan was expecting some light casualties. Maybe some room could be made in the back of one of the less important wagons so that they could take their own with them until a proper place to bury them could be found. If not it was all the same, the men knew what they were getting into when they'd signed on.

Filn Stenlager

 

[Filn Stenlager]

"Bullshit. That thing is used to crush peoples skulls. Probably has some fairly potent magic attached to it as well. How's it going to help you rebuild a tower?"

"Aye," he replied.

Indeed, the hammer could quite easily be employed as a weapon. Likely a devastating one at that. In fact, he had often wondered why such an object would be embued with the gifts that it was. But then in the days of its forging, it was no doubt a very different time.

Who could say?

But what he did know, is that he himself had only just recently laid eyes on the hammer for the first time himself. An elf had come, delivering a key which had unlocked a long forgotten passage - one he had only vaguely recalled from his childhood playing in the catacombs of Belgrath.

Deep within had been the case, and inside the hammer as well as many tomes and texts regarding it - as well as other things. He'd taken what he needed, studied the tool, and then began this expedition south.

He looked to Roan with an examining eye. Many of the men he'd conscripted for this job, and any other job, were typically an honorable sort. He had little time for shady characters. No, this Roan seemed even a little more principled than most.

As they rolled up close to the caravan he closed the case and locked it shit. He nodded seeing that the surviving defenders had already began cleaning things up. A sorry sight: a good dozen of their men slain. The bandits' losses were easily twice their's, with whatever remaining numbers having fled. Hopefully, they wouldn't return.

He hopped down of the carriage, taking the case with him and sliding it back into the carriage and under a bench within.

"We'll talk a bit more later, we may as well make camp here. Sun's nearly set anyway..."

He went on to organize things following the attack. Since they would make camp here for the night, he had several men begin to dig graves here. They would bury them in the morning.

* * *
​

Later that night, the wagons were rounded and several fires lit within their shroud. Sitting around a smaller fire with only a couple dwarves sitting near to him he spotted Roan about. He shouted to him, and waved him over. There were a few scrolls about him, and one rolled open on his lap. His back was leaned against the carriage, the hammer resting within.

Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

The Wagon had come to a halt back in the encampment where the caravan was ambushed. Like his companion Roan would leave the carriage shortly thereafter offering a simply...

"Of course, I'll see you later."

...before he went his own way and left the Dwarf to his business. As a Mercenary, hired on for the protection of the caravan of wagons that was his primary concern. Once safety and security had been assured the rest could come later.

Assisting the others with the digging of graves Roan would prove he was no stranger to work and after the weight of his Chain Mail left him when he removed his armor the strength of his body became apparent. A Shovel seemed to fit naturally into his hands, maybe he had spent time as a ditch digger prior to his current occupation or had worked the fields where digging was all to common.

The Holes were dug, some of them more shallow than others and Roan had the fallen defenders placed in the open graves where they would wait until the morning so that a proper burial could happen. The deceased Bandits were likewise placed in a hole, a mass grave that Roan had ordered dug and covered over with dirt so that the wagons would depart before the scent of rot attracted animals over the course of several days. It was not perfect but Roan had already decided it was better than those men deserved.

By the time nightfall had set in and the wagons were rounded Roan was covered in dirt. The tunic he wore was stained and dirt stuck to his forearms and blackened his fingernails. When he heard Filn's voice Roan approached the Dwarf and his fellows, all of them sitting around a smaller fire. As he came closer he'd join them and crouch down near the fire so that the ambient heat of the flames caressed his skin and the amber glow illuminated his features...

"Everything is secure."

...he'd have said...

"We have men posted around the outskirts of the camp as lookouts and the men will sleep in shifts incase the bandits return. What about you? Reading something?"

...he'd have noticed the open scroll on the Dwarfs lap but he approached his interest with practicality and was careful not to pry overly. It wasn't his business to know if the Dwarf didn't want to share with him after all.

Filn Stenlager

 

[Filn Stenlager]

"We have men posted around the outskirts of the camp as lookouts and the men will sleep in shifts incase the bandits return. What about you? Reading something?"

Filn nodded impressively with Roan's report, obviously quite pleased.

"You're a good man, Roan," he'd taken a good part of the day making sure he'd made remembered his name properly. He knew them all, but he just couldn't place all the faces. He could place Roan's now.

"Yes... here." He passed him the scroll. It was a map, and to the traveled it was clearly the eastern Falwood. On the map was a road marked, in a place where it was said there were no such paths. It marked also the location of a city.

"Sharyrdaes... that's where we go. Strange bunch of elves there." He passed another scroll, and on it was an illustration of what the tower had supposedly looked like. A tremendous tower, built onto an enormous temple and strove high into the sky, "when we get there we'll have a better idea of what it looked like... but its something, eh?"

It was an illustration of course, but even the idea of there being something even remotely similiar to what was drawn was amazing.

"I'm suppose to rebuilt that thing. I likely live out the rest of my days in that city. They better bring me lots of drink, haha!"

Speaking of which, he passed Roan a freshly poured mug of dwarven ale.

Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

Usually when Roan referred to Filn it was as the Dwarf but he knew the name of his employer. There were several Dwarves here but Filn was the one who was in charge, they one the men responsible for defending the Caravan were enlisted to help get from point a to point b. When Filn referred to Roan as a good man he'd have merely replied...

"I have my moments."

...which wasn't to say that he disagreed but others might, Roan had a moral code but he fought for whoever he had taken coin from. In fact the man was weary, the current state of the world bothered him on some level and he sensed an impending war on the horizon. Well that was to say he believed the gossip and rumors he heard coming out of Amol-Kalit in the east and the rest of the continent.

Taking the scroll that Filn had offered him Roan would study the map carefully, honestly he didn't know much about the Elves and much of their society seemed mysterious to him...

"Sharyrdaes."

...he'd say, probably butchering the pronunciation...

"Might have heard the name a time or two but only in passing. Don't know anything about it."

...but anything else he would have said was overshadowed by the illustration that Filn handed him next which caused Roan's back to straighten as he took in the depiction of the Tower that Filn soon explained it was his job to repair and recreate...

"Well, Filn you've got your work cut out for you. When you finish it'll distinguish you as one of the greatest architects of the age though."

...it didn't matter that Filn hadn't been the original builder, rebuilding something of that magnitude was still a monumental task. Accepting the mug Roan brought it to his lips and drank, then he jerked slightly as the powerful ale opened up his senses, lowering the mug afterwards...

"Good shit. The Taverns don't serve drink of this quality."

Filn Stenlager

 

[Filn Stenlager]

He nodded in agreeance. Sharyrdaes was largely off the map and very few in this day and age had likely heard of it. And considering what the elf, Erën, had explained to him it was no great wonder. Nevertheless, though he himself was never the most fond of the long ears for a variety of reasons, he was an honorable dwarf. His ancestors aligned themselves with this caste quite intimately for many generations ages ago - this he could not dispute. Now they called on his aid, one of the last remaining of those old bloodlines.

"Well, Filn you've got your work cut out for you. When you finish it'll distinguish you as one of the greatest architects of the age though."

"Aye, well..." his eyes glanced back at the carriage, wherein lied the hammer, "I've only used the tool... a handful of times. It is a difficult thing to wield."

He recalled using it to open the way into Belgrath's underbelly - it had been startling to see how collapsed corridors and chambers reconstructed themselves before his very eyes - doing naught but stretch the hammer out before him with a thoughtful intent - as it once was. But those were small and sporadic situations where there had been no other choice, and it had been terribly taxing upon him. He even thought that perhaps it had aged him at an accelerated rate when he used it - albeit slightly.

"Good shit. The Taverns don't serve drink of this quality."

His chest rumbled with a stifled laugh, and he too drank, "that is an old family recipe of my own. I only sell a few kegs to select bars," he said with the wag of his finger and the persisting chuckle. Then he leaned in, a little hushed now, "I don't share freely with just anybody Roan. Thank you for your work today, I'll make sure there's a keg with your name on it when we're done," a wry grin, "but be damn careful lad. You might not like me much come morning," the dwarves all laughed invitingly.

"Speaking of which, tell me Roan. What is there for you after our task is done? While we dwarves will go to dwell with the elves, your path is your own and what's owed you is yours when we reach the Falwood. Where will you go?"

Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

Nodding his head Roan considered what Filn had told him. The Tool was a truly impressive artifact and Roan had only ever seen it, he had no idea what its capabilities were but he wagered he would have no chance at being able to control it. In a world of magic Roan was a man that had no talent for such things, he preferred steel in his hand seeing as how it had never failed him but that didn't mean he wasn't curious.

If Filn had used the tool and lived he must have some aptitude for it whether that be due to race or heritage, blood oaths or natural talent it didn't matter. Gazing at him Roan would only have replied...

"If you truly believe Sharyrdaes will be your home for the rest of your days then there will be plenty of time to master its use, Filn."

...the sentiment was accompanied by another drink from the dwarven ale that filled his mug, this one more measured than the last seeing as how Roan now had an idea of how potent it was but that too had a benefit, it would alleviate the aches and pains from the earlier battle. Truly Roan was thankful for the compliment and kind words that Filn had paid him, Dwarves were known to be a hard headed folk though lifelong friendships could be formed if a bond was established with one...

"A Keg."

...Roan chuckled...

"I would have to measure it out over time. A waste of good drink is akin to sacrilege."

...but he nodded, thanking Filn and accepting what would be a future gift while contemplating the response to the next question which was accompanied by a bit of his own history...

"I've always stayed close to Vel Anir. I was born in one of the smaller villages near the city. As a man who hires his sword I've tended to find work hunting bandits in the surrounding areas. Either way I've heard all manners of rumor that concerns me, it seems likely that a battle between the Empire of Amol-Kalit and Vel Anir might become an eventuality and I will likely be on the field for such a battle."

...he hesitated then, weighing his options as his expression seemed to take on a look of deep thought...

"I've also considered venturing east to the Spine, I hear there's good work there for a man willing to earn his own weigh. And I've been told there are expeditions to the Isles of Aina O Ka La where explorers search for lost artifacts, could be some fierce fighting there."

Filn Stenlager

 

[Filn Stenlager]

Filn listened carefully. He'd taken a liking to this man, and would be saddened if such an honourable sort were to tread the wrong path. Word from the western realms often made it to Belgrath - just often quite a while after most other places. But he had heard of this Empire's rise, and the shifts that its creation had caused.

Much of the western world was in turmoil, and yea - even here in the Spine there was much unrest. Menalus and his kingdom of drudgery in the North, the ranks of Eternum in the tundra, and all manner of monsters lingering through the wilds. It seemed all of Arethil was rising to a point - either disaster or prosperity, likely. He hoped for the latter, but he knew it to be little more than wishful thinking.

"Aye lad, where there is talk of war, it usually comes." He drank.

Venturing east into the Spine was really not a whole lot better, and Aina O Ka La was full of nothing but swine and scoundrel. Really - there was no where good to go. There was always steel to be met, always blood to spill.

"I suppose if it were me..." he started, somewhat hesitant, "I would head toward home. If I knew of something coming that would sully my line, spoil the blood of me and mine and waste it upon the land - then I would go there, and defend it."

He thought of Belgrath, and the horrors of the siege just a few short years ago.

"But then, there are always others who need help. And who knows, perhaps the Empire and Vel Anir will sign a treaty. The world is always changing, and it is difficult to know how the minds of high leaders reach the decisions that they do..." another sip, "...whatever road you choose to take, I hope that it will lead you well. In the meantime..."

He handed him a pouch, and inside was a pin inscribed with a crest - Filn's family crest.

"I'd a likely be a dead dwarf if it weren't for you, Roan. I consider you now as close as my kin, and should you ever be in Belgrath, show them that sigil. They'll know you are friend." Belgrath was usually a quite hospitable place for travelers anyway, but to go into the city recognized as Kin - that made things different. Better Ale, for instance.

Filn raised his mug, and then drank. The surrounding dwarves did as well, offering solid pats on the shoulder and side of the arm. They would have to drink up well, for the morning would come quick and the road was long.

Roan Dorn

 

[Roan Dorn]

Everything Filn said Roan had found himself agreeing with. It seemed a distinct posibility that he would return home after this, to the lands surrounding Vel Anir however there was a problem. All of Roan's kin had long since died. In another life, when he was more a farmer than anything else they had been slain by bandits that Vel Anir had promised to protect them against. It was a major cause that lead him to become what he was now.

Maybe that's why when Filn reached out to hand him the pouch and Roan looked inside to discover the pin inside he was so taken aback even as the other Dwarves offered pats on the shoulder and side of the arm...

"You honor me, Filn."

...it was no small thing for any Dwarf to tell a man he was considered as close as kin and Roan, usually serious felt unprepared for what had just occurred. Lifting the mug of ale he would tip it backwards, drinking a mouthful until lowering it again and turning his head so that he could rest his eyes on the Dwarf...

"All I have in exchange for such kinship is my pledge that should you need my help I would aid you against any foe. My steel is your steel wherever I am in this world."

...Roan wasn't a Nobleman nor was he a man of rank, he was a Mercenary and a Soldier but his word was his bond so Filn could count that if he ever sent word the man would come to his aid no matter the circumstances.

Raising his mug once again then Roan would finish its contents, tipping it back until he'd drank all of the ale inside then he would lower it. Feeling a little light headed he'd have chuckled sparsely and added...

"I think I may have drank my fill and the morning comes early."

...it was Dwarven Ale after all.

Filn Stenlager