Moonday early evening, Fireseek 3, 591 Common Year

After taking his leave of Indranil, Lorindel decides to take a stroll around the keep. Although at leisure, he still pays attention to his surroundings and studies the layout of the grounds. Aside from the palace and its various towers and wings, within the walls of the keep are the barracks for the town watch, as well as the paladins and knights who guard the keep itself, stables for the horses, granaries, and also sheds for the blacksmiths, bowyers, armor-smiths, weapon-smiths, carpenters, and other craftsmen. In the middle of it all is a large courtyard where the well is located and the parade grounds for the men-at-arms where they can drill and engage in weapons practice. Now that the sun is setting it is relatively calm and quiet. The servants are mainly in the kitchens preparing for supper and setting up the trestle tables and benches in the great hall.

Desiring to hear local news, Lorindel figures that it would be best to find a tavern or inn in town. The guard at the gate says to him, “Well sir, just a block or two away from the market on the upriver side of the Processional on Rum Road you’ll find Ruadan’s place, that’s where the knights and clerics go when they’re off duty, and some of the guild masters as well. It’s a nice respectable place. If you want something a little more boisterous, just head downriver on Rum Road, but don’t go too far down, or you’ll perhaps find more adventure than you might like. Thing is, sir, it’s not too wise to go anywhere alone after dark, but especially downriver.”

“Thanks for the directions. Well, the responsible side of me says I should probably limit my wanderings to the upper side; but where’s the excitement in that?” Lorindel says with a wink and a nod. “Down river on Rum Road it is. Not too far though, right?”

Lorindel travels down the Processional until he finds Rum Road. The sun has just set and the fog from the surrounding swamps creeps down into the bowl of the city. Smoky oil lamps on posts shine out dimly in the gloom. On either side of Rum Road, Lorindel sees the light of the various taverns and hears the babble of rough and shrill voices, the occasional outburst of raucous laughter, and once or twice he hears cries of pain and outrage. Peeking into the various taverns, he sees off-duty men-at-arms, teamsters, peddlers, bar wenches, and more obvious whores. He observes several games of three-dragon-ante (a popular card game), darts, and even arm wrestling in progress. The Olden Fist Meadhall seems especially dedicated to such games, though even as he watches a drunken brawl breaks out among some of the card players. Some taverns, like the Murky Archer, are fortunate enough to have attracted a bard to sing and play, or even a troupe of minstrels. In the latter case, at a place called the Dark Tankard Hall, the wild bacchanalian rhythms are accompanied by wild and frenzied dancers or a chorus of voices joining together in various drinking songs, sometimes both. One of the quieter places is called the Twilight King, where a more gentle singing can be heard and the crowd inside seems more subdued.

Lorindel figures that the Murky Archer has a nice ring to it. He enters with a broad smile, approaches the bar, and asks for a mug of the house ale from the extraordinarily slovenly barkeep. Mug in hand, he searches for an open seat at one of the common tables. Though he keeps his purse closely guarded, Lorindel does enjoy the atmosphere, drinking in any curious conversations that happen to drift past. Lorindel notes that in one corner of the room is a life size wooden carving of an archer, with an arrow nocked and pointing down to the floor in front of it.

Lorindel learns from the pretty elven barmaid that the half-elven bard with long curly blond hair and soft blue eyes is the famed Dellin of Pepez. He is performing the Ballad of the Twin Cataclysms that he had performed in the palace just a couple of nights ago. Dellin receives great applause for this.

“Thank you, thank you,” says Dellin. “Now I’d like to perform an old song, but one that many of you keep requesting.” The crowd applauds as he begins strumming the tune for the next song on his mandolin. They obviously recognize it.

If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s goin’ to break, [X2]

When the levee breaks I’ll have no place to stay.

Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan, [X2]

Got what it takes to make a mountain man leave his home,

Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well.

Don’t it make you feel bad

When you’re tryin’ to find your way home,

You don’t know which way to go?

If you’re goin’ down South

They got no work to do,

If you don’t know about Greyhawk.

Cryin’ won’t help you, prayin’ won’t do you no good,

Now, cryin’ won’t help you, prayin’ won’t do you no good,

When the levee breaks, mama, you got to move.

All last night sat on the levee and moaned, [X2]

Thinkin’ about me baby and my happy home.

Going, going to Greyhawk… Going to Greyhawk… Sorry but I can’t take you…

Going down… going down now… going down….

After Dellin’s set ends, the brutish looking barkeep starts calling everyone around to the statue of the archer. “Gather round, gather round folks! It’s Murky Archer time!” Everyone begins gathering around the wooden archer. “Who volunteers? Step up, win a prize, or win a punch!” he crows with a sardonic grin. He holds in his hand a selection of playing cards from a Three Dragon Ante pack. “How about that half-elf over there!” cries someone in the crowd. They all look to Lorindel. “Yeah, let the newcomer try his luck!” shouts someone else.

Lorindel lets out a boisterous laugh as he rises. “Totally unnecessary… However, since you’ve gone to the trouble to make a stranger feel welcome how can I refuse? Now then, what’s this ‘Murky Archer’ all about?”

“Ah, there’s a sport!” says the barkeep. The crowd cheers and claps for Lorindel. The barkeep hands him eight cards. “That’s right, look them over good sir.” Lorindel sees that they are the Single Black Dragon, the Double Gold Dragon, the Fool, the Princess, the Priest, the Druid, the Thief, and the Dragonslayer.

The elven barmaid sidles up to Lorindel and says, “Those who volunteer may stand by this line,” she indicates a chalk line on the floor where the rushes have been cleared away, “and throw these cards at the Murky Archer. Then he will decide your fate for weal or for woe. The card that is closest to the spot where the arrowhead points will tell us what to do for or to you.” She gives him a playful nudge, “Go ahead, throw!”

The crowd takes this up, “Throw! Throw! Throw! Throw! Throw!” They chant, raising their mugs to Lorindel.

What have you gotten yourself into? If it was merely drink I was looking for I could have remained at the castle. No, this is exactly the fix you sought. Finally to the crowd, Lorindel shouts, “Let’s see what the Fates have planned for Lor!” With that, he plants the stack of cards between his index and middle fingers, takes aim, and lets them loose with a flick of the wrist.

The cards flutter through the air and fall to the rushes. One lands face down just to the right of the spot indicated by the arrow. The barmaid stoops over to pick it up and then holds the Thief up to the crowd. “Huzzah!” yells the crowd. Then they begin chanting again, “Free drink! Free drink! Free drink!” The barkeep makes his way back through the crowd holding a large tankard of ale over his head as he weaves through them. Finally he stands besides Lorindel once more. “You lucky bastard, one free drink coming up,” he announces just before dumping the entire tankard over Lorindel’s head. The crowd laughs hysterically, some even falling to the floor in their mirth. There is much slapping of Lorindel’s back, though it seems to be in a good-natured way.

Thoroughly enjoying this turn of events, Lorindel shouts over the roar of the crowd, “Since Lady Luck chose to look down favorably upon me, who am I to keep it to myself? Drinks for everyone on me.” Lorindel retrieves a few gold coins from a pocket and drops them into the now emptied tankard in the barkeep’s hand.

“Huzzah!” from all around. The barkeep raises his eyes at Lorindel, but nods with a smile and hurries off to draw more ale for the crowd. A scruffy looking man with long blond hair and violet eyes, dressed in a working man’s clothes, catches Lorindel’s eye and motions him over. He raises his now filled mug in a toast and says, “You are one good sport you are. Come and sit with me and my mates.” He motions with his head to one of the tables in the back.  There sits a tough looking young man with a blond crew-cut and rather large tattoo adorning his biceps. Sitting with him is a scrawny looking youth in studded black leather with only a strip of spiky black hair down the center of his head. A little monkey cavorts on the table in front of the latter. “The name’s Fergus,” says the scruffy looking man as holds his hand out to Lorindel.

Lorindel leans in without breaking eye contact and gives Fergus a firm handshake and a hearty pat to the back. “Lead the way my good fellow. I’d be happy to chat. Only for a minute mind you. There’s a connection I need to follow up on, if you know what I mean,” says Lorindel as he glances over in the direction of the elven barmaid.

Fergus follows his glance and laughs, “Oh ho! So you want some of that action eh? We’ll see what we can arrange. But first let me introduce you to my mates.” Fergus leads Lorindel over to the table and the two sitting there move aside to let them sit down. “This strong lad over here is Cole, and this clever little punk is Dion. Watch out for Cyrus, Dion’s monkey. He will bite – the nasty little thing.”

Cyrus jumps off the table and up onto Dion’s shoulder and almost seems to leer at Lorindel with an evil grin. Dion just gives a half-lidded mellow smile and begins lighting up some pipe-weed, which he then passes around. “Good stuff,” he croaks. “Some of the halflings up the river finally managed to get some down to us now that the Scarlet Brotherhood is gone. Probably won’t be long before the High and Mighties try to cut them off again. Say, you’re a High and Mighty yourself aren’t…” Fergus cuts him off.

“This is a good man Dion. Instead of holing up in the keep, Lorindel came down here to mingle with us lowly Keepers. Not only that, but he was a good sport about our little game here, and even bought a round after all that. He’s all right by me.”

Fergus turns his attention back to Lorindel, “And because you’re such a good guy, I want to give you a little free advice. I wouldn’t flash gold around down here if I were you. It was a nice gesture and all, but you might just draw some unwanted attention.” Dion snorts at this, and Cole guffaws but Fergus glares at them and they quickly stop. “Lucky for you we were here. We’ll look out for you by way of repaying the free ale. Here, have some pipe-weed.” He passes Lorindel the clay pipe full of the acrid halfing leaf.

“Wise advice, I’ll be sure and heed it.” Lorindel pauses momentarily and puts up a hand and waves off the offer. “Not tonight friend. I’ll be keeping late hours. Ale is stimulating enough for now. Don’t want the off chance it puts me under. Another time, agreed?”

Fergus laughs, “Agreed, more for us boys eh?” The other two laugh.

Lorindel takes a long drink from his mug and then looks at Fergus. “Repayment for my good deed eh? Perhaps I could collect in information instead. You mentioned the Scarlet Brotherhood. What can you tell me about that outfit?”

Fergus scowls, as do the others. “Those cursed Red Robes! What’s to say? As you surely know, they came in here about seven years ago with their orcs, and hobgoblins, and Amedi savages. They murdered anyone who even looked at ‘em crosswise. They closed all the guilds and temples, and many guild masters and priests were never seen again. The Mages Guild had already deserted us, the filthy cowards.” Fergus spits to emphasize his disgust for the mages. “They burned down the Locksmiths Guild and the Church of the Big Gamble because they knew we would lead a resistance. Ha! And we did! Leastways, those of us who escaped and could keep ahead of their goblin spies. We might even have been able to get rid of them once the warlords rose up in the countryside, but then you Keolanders got here first. Oh but the Red Robes did a lot of damage in the meantime. They freed the Amedi slaves, but enslaved many of the Oeridian plantation owners and their families, and anyone else who wouldn’t go along with their program. They even carried off many Suloise blooded nobles, young men and women and even girls and boys. They shipped them off in barges downriver to Monmurg and perhaps further. They even pit the Olman, who remained slaves, against the newly enslaved Oeridians. By keeping them at each other’s throats they kept the two groups from forming any kind of unified resistance. I’ll tell you this: if any of those Red Robes or their minions show their faces around here again, we will all die fighting rather than bow our heads to their boot.” Cole and Dion add their boisterous agreement to this. Even Cyrus screeches his agreement. “That doesn’t mean the High and Mighties, begging your pardon sir, are welcome either though. You seem to be an alright sort, but you’d better watch your step all the same down here.”

“Understood, so many thanks for letting me join in the fun ’round here. Your hospitality is top notch,” replies Lorindel with all sincerity. “I’d best be heading back. I’m sure my brother has long since wondered where I’ve gotten off to.”

Looking Fergus in the eye and slowly shifting his gaze to each of his companions, Lorindel admits, “Your information can prove most useful. I could really use the help from a man of the people. And I’m sure I could make it worth your while. If you hear of any news about a resurgence of ‘The Brotherhood,’ be sure and let me know. Also, if there’s anything that you think I might find interesting you can fill me in on that as well. If we’re in agreement, I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. Say around midday.”

Fergus rubs his stubbly chin and thinks about it, “Well, no man can know where he’ll be for sure even an hour hence. Still, you can find us here most nights, but news about the Red Robes? We don’t want to get mixed up in their affairs do we boys?” Nods from all around. “Still, if something comes up that you can help us with, who knows?

“Now if you’re walking back to the keep, I think we better go with you. Now that people here know you have gold, it’s not safe to walk back on your own. We can at least get you back to the Processional where it’s better lit and you High and Mighties patrol regularly. What do you say?” Fergus seems genuinely concerned. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer. Hopefully your being spotted with me won’t hurt your reputation,” Lorindel adds with a chuckle.

Fergus laughs as well. “I’ll take the risk. Let’s go then boys.

As he is leaving, Lorindel see that another game of Murky Archer is being played out. The barkeep holds up a card, “The Golden Dragon! Huzzah!” The crowd cheers as well. “One kiss from Imensil!” The pretty elven barmaid sidles up to the giddily happy laborer who had thrown the cards, grabs him by the waist and back of the head and pulls him into a long deep kiss. “Huzzah!” yells the crowd, and there is much laughter and emptying of mugs.

Fergus takes Lorindel back to the Processional but he and his boys take their leave after a couple of blocks on that main thoroughfare. “The Cuthbert Mission is just up ahead and after that it’s within shouting distance to the keep. You should be safe enough here. Still, keep away from the shadows. Oh, and nice of you to show some faith in me and the boys. There’s many that would have taken us for thieves.” He grins. Dion and Cole snicker at this, but he silences them with a look. “Take care of yourself Lorindel. You’re a good man or half-elf or whatever. We’ll be seeing you around maybe.” Then he and his boys walk away and are soon swallowed by the lamp lit fog.

Lorindel heads back to the palace. He first tries to make a return visit to the bath to wash away the filth and stink from the sour ale. Unfortunately, the hall adjacent to the great hall has already been turned into a dining hall for the men-at-arms. Trestle tables have been set up and the bathtubs rolled back into storage.

Lorindel says to no one in particular, “Perhaps I should look for a wizard to work his magic on me to get rid of this stench.”

“Oh, good sir!” exclaims a harried looking middle-aged man in court clothes who is supervising the preparations for the evening supper, “You certainly found quite a party didn’t you? Perhaps you are looking for the baths? I’m Liam the House Steward.” He bows, “I can have a tub brought to your room along with some buckets of warm water and some fresh clothes.”

So it is that Lorindel returns to his room, rather damp and bedraggled and smelling like a brewery – much to the amazement of Indranil to whom he says, “Wouldn’t you know it? I took your advice, unstrung my bow, and had a good time.”

Indranil looks at his brother, sniffs and pulls his face back with a slight grimace saying, “Indeed.” Then he turns without another word to walk out of the room.

Lorindel calls out to his brother, “Aw, don’t you want to hear the sordid details?”

Indranil pauses in the doorway and turns to look at Lorindel. “Brother I do not want to hear any details of your adventures. We are here at the invitation of the Prince and we should not dishonor his invitation and grace by drunken debauchery and sordid antics. When I suggested you put up your bow, relax and enjoy the amenities of the palace I did not mean to come back smelling and looking as you do. There is a time and place for everything and when a guest of the Prince in the palace one should act with some dignity. You dishonor our family name with such actions.” Indranil then turns and leaves, heading for the great hall.

After a few minutes a couple of servants come in bearing one of the tubs, and behind them several other servants bearing buckets of hot water, towels, and fresh clean clothes for Lorindel.

Lorindel says to the servants. “It’s rare for me to get a hot bath twice a month, let alone twice in a day.”

Not long after Lorindel finishes his bath and puts on his new clothes the bell rings calling the court to gather in the foyer of the great hall for the evening supper.