A greeting and a tale

[Noa]

altimor
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(3/25/02 4:33 am)
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Hello. I am Altimor Bragoson, a humble Steel Warrior of the Light Bringer. I have not had the honor of meeting any of you personally, yet, but I was so intrigued by your guild and the information posted upon this board in the tavern, that I felt assured that I would like this assembly very much. So, I have applied for initiation, and await contact from any of you worthy people.

Ahh.. Listen to me, carrying on like my bardic friend Dale. If I have the talent of rambling, then I can only hope I do it half so well as my good friend the bard does.

But, to the point... As a token of friendship, I wish to unleash the bard on you, and I hope you will enjoy the small tale he will tell you. Dale...

*Dale makes his way forward*

Thank you, friend. (Unleash, indeed. You'd think he was calling forth a hurricane, instead of a simple bag of wind.*smile*) But enough of this chatter...

*Dale steps up to the stage, and puts forth his best preforming voice...*

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It All Started With The Rogue's Head...

.... No. It was the haughty warrior. No, no... it was that rude barkeep. Ah, now I remember....

....It all started with that drunken rogue.

Hail. I am Dale ap Tethil, travelling bard and long standing friend of Altimor, son of Brago. The whole debacle started when Altimor and I made our way into Halas one evening, tired from our journey to Everfrost. Oddly enough, we had gone all that way to find a gentle fellow who was skilled in crafting musical instruments. And as Altimor owed me a lute (for one that was broken in a misunderstanding at Crow's Tavern, in Qeynos), we found the fellow, and Altimor paid him. Now, we thought a good stout brew and a warm bed would beat camping out in the freezing snow any day. So, we made our way through the small town, searching for the good place to lodge.

The first real building of promise we came to was a solid building by the name of Cappi's Coffers. And, as luck would have it, it turned out to be the bank, as well. As my young warrior friend made his deposits, he turned to leave... just in time to plow straight into the drunken fellow in dark wolf's clothing. After a few moments of reorienting himself, the scoundrel bustled up with indignation.
"Bah! Let go of me! I ought to cut you in half, you miserable little flea!"
"I'm sorry, friend. Truly, I didn't see you. And in all honesty, it was you who was standing in m..."
The cur gave Altimor a solid shove. "Quiet, ya balding gnoll! If you want to live for long here, you better get an idea of who's arse to kiss, and who's to kick. And here's a clue. Mine ain't fer kickin!"
"Look. Really, I meant no harm. There is no need.."
"Do you know how I am?", he said as he backed Altimor into the wall. (You must remember, we had no wish to spill blood, and this 500 pound drunkard was not merely throwing his weight, he was nearly losing his legs.)
"No, not really. I ..."
"The name's Cappi. That's all you need to know. I'm the single most important man in this town," at this he paused to hiccup, "And if you want to keep on the rights here, you'll learn to treat me with a bit o' respect. Got it??"
And with that, the barbarian slumped over, and passed out. It was all the Steel Warrior could do to keep from being taken down with the hulken mass. When he stood free from the small giant,we both looked about, only to be greeted by snarling faces. It wasn't a hard decision to walk out.

"By Marr, you'd think we blungeoned the brute with a club, the way they looked at us."
"Aye," Altimor agreed. "The more distance we put between us and them, the better."
"Still, that WAS the bank. Do you think we should make things right with them, in case we need to pull from our accounts again here?"
My friend seemed to dwell on that one. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe we can find a clue as to how to gain the favor of these...gentle people. Come. Let's find another place to warm ourselves." And so we made our way to another part of the village.

The plaza we found ourselves in was small enough, and we had two taverns to choose from. One seemed quiet enough, but it was a bit dreary, and almost deserted, and as we were looking for a way to improve our standing a bit, we chose the other.
We walked into what seemed a mad house. The first thing to greet us was a bottle hurled at the wall, very near the door. Before us stood huge, drunken warriors, and it seemed some barbarian or other had made quite a name for himself that very day. As we made our way to the bar, we were hardly noticed, and indeed, we were careful not to be trampled on by the nearest staggering fool.
"Two good stouts, if you please."
The barkeep turned to us, and gave a face of near revulsion. Honestly, you would have thought we were piles of ogre refuse.
"Sorry, I don't serve to piles of gnoll dung." (...Close enough.) "If you want a drink, then try Leopok over at Cappi's. I hear the milk there is suitable enough for lighties like you. BWAH!" At that, everyone nearby let out a raucious laugh. And that was when the other problem appeared.

Slapping his hand down with a sturdy (and impressive) vibration on the counter, a barbarian, even bigger than most, barked out, "Let's have another round, say?"
"Coming right up, Renth! Nothin' too good for you!" The barkeep began to pour.
"That's right! Old Renth, the terror of Splitpaw, he is!" chimed in others, and that produced even more huzzahs and cheers.
Altimor looked up at the other warrior,and gave a friendly grin. "Oh? Been to Splitpaw? That is a mighty place, indeed. I've heard you've got to have ..."
"And who might you be?". Renth was giving Altimor a sizing up.
"Er, my name is Altimor, friend. And you?"
"Listen to me. No, I haven't been to Splitpaw. If you had any brain at all, you'd know that there are some refugee gnolls that come over to the Blackburrow. They're a might bit meaner than the regular dogs, so if you think you can do better, then prove it." With that last bit, Renth exhaled what can only be described as foul gas, as he belched alcohol into both our faces.
"whoah, slow down, friend. I didn't mean anything by.."
"Hoy, Wolves!, The bartender shouted. "We've a wee folk here who thinks he can outdo old Renth!" The barkeep shouted again, and soon everyone in the building was crowding about to catch the action.
Altimor and I just exchanged deadpan looks, and without words, we wondered how in Norrath we seemed to get ourselves into these things. But, the warrior suddenly seemed to let his pride get the better of him.
"Truly, I've no quarrel with you good people. But, if you wish, I will take a challenge from any of you, and I will meet that challenge."
At that, it seems Altimor's standing rose a bit with the barbarians, and they seemed to think at least this would make a brave (and entertaining) death. Renth, on the other hand, took it as a personal shot against him.
"Bah! Well, then. I'll choose the task fer ya!" He took another swig from the horn before him, then slammed it down on the bar. "There was a murder done in this village..."
At this, the noise and din began to die down, and the general hedonism turned to sober glares.
"A murder that should nae have gone unpunished for this long. We know the man's name, but we can't prove it was him enough for ... for some folks in this town without starting no less than a war. If you can take down this man, Panglan by name, well...." Renth stood to his full height, and with a large gesture, pulled a sword from off his back, and slammed it down onto the counter. "Well, I'll give you my sword."
The noise level that had dropped to whispers now rose to the sound of gasps. The sword was huge, and very impressive. "That there is the Langseax o' the Wolves. With it, you can cleave a man in two with one stroke. Not too many of us Wolves have it, but if you bring back this Panglan's head, you'll be one o' the first o' the wee folk to have it."
And again, the other warriors started with the chatter. I looked over to my friend, and then looked up at Renth. "Er, perhaps we should think about th...."
"I'll do it." My mouth dropped open as I heard my friend speak the words. "Now, Where is this murderer who has escaped justice for so long?"
Renth and the others gave beaming smiles to this newfound friend.. or lackey. "You'll find him in the West Karanas. Normally, he could be anywhere, and hard to catch, because he's a not only a murderer, he's a thief and a coward. But, if you find the fishing outpost of our kin, there's a wolf dog they keep there. Really good sniffer. Give 'em this, and he'll lead you to the culprit." With that, the warrior nodded to the barkeep, who in turned went over to a corner of his stock, and pulled out a large shirt, reeking of old grime and sweat.
"Done. We'll leave tomorrow, and we'll come back with his head." With that, the crowd let loose a savage agreement, more a blood cry than a cheer.

And so, that was how we found ourselves cold, tired, and at each other's throats in the West Karanas, bickering back and forth as we tried our best to keep up with the hound.
"Shut up, Dale." Altimor loped along. "You sound like a mocking bird, repeating the same thing over and over."
"This isn't the first time, either. You always get us into these things." I bit my lip as I near stumbled to the ground. "You know, when I said I wanted to see the world, I was thinking more along the lines of tourism, not a BLOODY TOUR OF DUTY."
"SHUT UP!" the warrior scowled... then froze in his steps.
I stopped my running as well, then looked at him oddly. "What?" He began to look around. "What is it?"
After a few faltering steps here and there, he spoke. "Frostbite. The dog.... I don't see him."
I began to look around, shading my eyes with my hand. Not that it mattered, as the rain started back up, leaving the land in a graying mist. "Are you certain? I'm sure I saw him come this way."
After a few more steps forward, suveying the rolling plains, the warrior let his hands fall to his side with indignation. "Well. I hope you're satified."
I could only stand poleaxed for a moment. Then, with a near bark, "Me??"
"Aye, you! If you'd have stopped your bickering, I'd have kept a better eye on the dog."
"Fah! If you think I'm going to take the blame...."
And that's when the spear hit me dead center in the back, and knocked me to the ground.
If not for the backpack I slung over my shoulder, The thing would have ran me through. I fell to the ground, too stunned and no wind in me to notice the sharp crack I had heard when the spear hit.
When I did recover a bit, I turned about to see a huge man and Altimor setting up for quite a duel. As the barbarian picked up his spear and began to thrust and jab, Altimor suddenly held his duel swords, in ready combat. Thrusts and cuts, parries and near misses. The two went at their business as only professionals did.
I then got it in my head to help. I crawled and scooted away from the two, then pulled my pack over my head, trying desperately to get the bundle in front of me as quick as possible. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally unravelled my cloak from the thing, and had the draw string undone. I reached for my lute... and found the instrument with a gaping hole in the back of it, and the arm broken, connected to the body only by the now flailing strings. It had saved my life, but now I had no means of helping, save the short sword at my side, which I had no idea how to use against a spear. (If you think this cowardice or incompotence, you try it.)
Nevertheless, I looked up, hoping to find a way to advance from behind the rogue. Then it hit me. There were no more sounds of battle.
Altimor stood over the foe, breathing hard, and favoring his left arm. No blood, but it looked to be hanging a bit limp.
"...Well...thanks... for the ... help." He panted. He was looking at me. And smiling. After a short moment in which we both realized the other was not dead, the relief hit us both, and we started to laugh.

The whole tavern grew so silent, you couldn't even hear the men breathing, as Altimor set the bloody head on the serving platter, resting on the bar. Renth was the foremost in the group, and was just as shocked to see us alive as to see the head sitting before him. A slow murmur spread through the ruffians, and pretty soon the sound was quite an uproar, a riotous whisper hushed in awe.
"Wha.. You... You did it....." Renth looked back and forth from Altimor and the head. "You actually did it." After a few short moments of silent gum flapping, he grabbed the bloody mess by the hair and held it high. "Wolves! Today, a foe has been banished! The Tribunal has answered our call for justice! Hail, Altimor!" And with that, a hooplah went up, nearly splitting my ears.
The warriors danced and capered, slapping both Altimor and my backs, and without a chance to recover, another would slap us another way. The giant fools capered a good bit more, and then in the middle of this, Renth stood up suddenly, reached over the counter, and pulled out his blade. At this, the din fell silent, ready to pick up again at the slightest provocation.
Altiimor began to good heartedly wave the man away, but Renth wouldn't have it.
"Let it be said that Renth o' the Wolves is a man of his word." He thrust the scabbard and blade into Altimor's chest. "Here you are, little man. Wear it with pride. Hah! You're now the shortest Wolf o' the North that ever set foot in the Pit!" And with that, the riot started anew.
It was some time before we could get out of the place. We had to recount the battle at least two dozen times. Actually, many pieces I had to improvise on, since I was on my face for most of the event. But, the crowd didn't seem to mind my tale (of which I must say, I had a little more of a part in, this time around). And in the small hours of the morning, we began to make our way to our rented huts.

As we stood outside the tavern, I holding the sword and he holding the head (the Wolves insisted we kept it as a trophy), the young warrior had a thought. "Dale, my friend", the speech was well enough, even though the breath was a bit tainted from spirits, "I've an idea. Since we're the town heroes, why not take this over to that Cappi fellow. Maybe this will get us on his good side, and we can use the bank without a lick of trouble, our next time around."
"Excellent idea!" (I, too, was a little sauced.) As we rounded the corners, passed the city banner, and made our way to the bank, we even thought out loud that we may get a congratulatory feast out of this. Opening the door of the building wide, we both stood just outside. And who should happen to be standing not ten feet away but Cappi himself, ready to walk out the door, and staring down at us.
"What in the name of..." was all he got out.
"Hail the heroes," I blurted, and at that Altimor held the head high, for all in the bank to see.
Now, I've never actually seen a conniption. Not until that point. It was all the giant before us could do not to break his own teeth, as he ground them. Beat red, the barbarian bellowed out, "Panglan! They killed PANGLAN!"

And so Altimor and I found ourselves runnning through the deep icy ravines toward Blackburrow, hunted by a score of barbarian rogues, and thanking the Twins that we had the good fortune to buy the wolves blood potion that very night.
"You always get us into these things!"
"Shut up! You sound like a mocking bird! Be thankful we didn't drink until we couldn't walk."
"Bah! 'Be thankful'.... You STILL owe me a lute!"

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I am Dale ap Tethil. I bid you a fond good night.