~ The Dwarven Blockade: [Archive] [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~

Emma is stern, quite unhappy that another clansmen could have overheard their entire interrogation. "What are you doing here?"

Elloharin, the elf, breathes quickly in shallow breaths as he tries to regain some strength. "I am looking..." he begins, "...for Rinder's Six."

"Yes," Emma states, still believing Elloharin to be a clansman. After all, how else could have entered the safe-house from such a hidden entrance? "A lot of your friends are out looking for us, no doubt," she says, her broadsword unwavering from its position below his chin, "Naeron? Set up another chair for our friend here...and then let's get out of this place before more Blood Clansmen find their way in here."

Before Naeron can fulfill the new orders, Hannibal moves in. Grabbing the elf roughly by his cloak, he spins the lighter man around so that his face is flat against the wall. "First let's settle this," Hannibal insists. His bravery spurred on knowing that Canter and Storm are close by, Hannibal grabs the elf's hair and removes it from the back of the neck.

Seeing no telltale markings of the clan, Hannibal backs off a bit and allows the elf a little room. Allowing him to first gather his senses, Hannibal decides to pose the first question. "Okay, so you're not a clansman. Then how did you get down there and what do you want with the Six?"

Crayne moves his lightstone closer. "It is good to meet with you Elloharin!" Crayne says in elven, "You have indeed found Rinder's Six. Perhaps our first acquaintance could have been on better terms." Speaking now in common, and looking around to the rest of the group, he continues. "You must understand, though, that times are tough at present and we have grown a little, shall we say, paranoid!"

Canter nods, approving Crayne's words. Elloharin's entrance was, indeed suspicious. But if he wasn't a member of the Blood Clan, then that does leave room in this realm for the other theories to be true. Perhaps this elf really was looking for Rinder's Six, though Canter cannot imagine why. The leatherman's son gives a concerned glance to Naeron, the half-elf frozen in his tracks. He had been preparing to follow Emma's order and tie up this new foe, but Hannibal, with his quick and clever check, has changed the scene.

Storm wipes the side of his face with his sleeve, angry with himself that he let this wiry elf actually surprise him. He stands with a scowl on his face, peering between his twin long swords, waiting for the word from Emma to turn this elf into mincemeat.

Crayne pauses for a moment thinking of the drow especially, "Anyhow, Elloharin, 'the Dimmed,' you must tell us why you are seeking us out! And quickly, for this place has a scent of danger about it!"

Glad that Hannibal checked the elf for the familiar Clan tattoo, but somewhat miffed at herself for not remembering too, Emma steps back to reassess their unexpected visitor. Her eyes narrow suspiciously for a

moment as she reasons that not everyone working for the Blood Clan has to have such a tattoo. This one could be someone looking to join, but just hadn't proven himself yet.

"Who are you?" the priestess finally asks bluntly.

With so many questions all at once, and so quickly, Elloharin hardly has an opening in which to answer. But then all is silent as Rinder's Six (Canter, Cy, Crayne [Karelth chose to stay at the inn, recall that it is after midnight], Emma, Hannibal, Naeron, and Storm) stands there, some with weapons drawn, waiting for an answer from him.

He backs himself into a corner. He holds his head and pants. He mutters incomprehensibly. After a moment he looks up again. Quickly he surveys the scene. His elven eyes grow wider with every face he sees.

"This cannot be! I do not understand! How can this be? You are the Six! The six Sir Nigel sent me to find!" He breaks off for a moment.

"You are Emma, the high priestess of Anhur. And you the thief Hannibal. The arch mage Crayne. And you," his eyes narrows as he spies the dwarf, whose fist he has already met, "the dwarfling. Storm. Cyveilog, Naeron, you're all here! What are you doing here? Have you come to find me? Did Sir Nigel send word of my coming?"

Not waiting for an answer, the elf throws back his hood and stands proudly before the Six. "I am Elloharin the Dimmed. I come from Merriam to join Rinder's Six in their quest to end the Dwarven Blockade."

Emma opens her mouth, then shuts it, momentarily perplexed by Elloharin's words. The elf obviously knew all of them by name and appearance. Could he be a spy for Bernigan or Paros...or had he really been given a mission by Sir Nigel? She thinks for a moment and remembers that all throughout Rinder's history the Elves had had plenty of their own problems keeping up good relations with the Dwarves. Could Elloharin represent some new piece to this puzzle by bringing another perspective to the situation? The priestess could hardly see the value in his involvement. The Dwarves would be even more likely to lock him away than they had done with Rinder's Six the last time. And Naeron, who was only half-elven, had nearly managed to sabotage the negotiations by stirring up the bad blood between the two races.

Finally, she addresses the elf, saying, "How do you come to know Sir Nigel of Merriam? What proof do you bring that he sent you? And why would he ask you to find us, Elloharin the Dimmed? Have your kinsmen developed some sort of stake in Raimead's affairs? Or do you simply seek to oppose the Dwarves because of their involvement in the blockade?"

"Proof?" Elloharin mutters, looking to Emma. A vague look of confusion washes over the elf's face, then a sudden flash of pain. Then, he is clear again. "Proof? Of course..." he then digs into his pocket, removing a crumpled piece of paper.

"What have you there?" Cy demands, his strong warrior's voice filling the room and causing Elloharin to momentarily look up, his confused gaze meeting with Cy's determined one.

"Proof..." Elloharin repeats.

"What does it say?" Naeron asks.

But Elloharin simply stares at the paper. With a sigh, Naeron steps forward, snatching it from the elf's delicate hands. "Can you not read it?" Naeron asks pointedly.

Elloharin doesn't answer.

Not waiting for one, Naeron holds the paper up to Crayne's lightstone, flattening it out with his hands. "It reads, 'To Rinder's Six. Do convey to Sir Bryant, Duke of Raimead, of the Great House of Raimead, and elected heir to the throne of Rinder, that preparations are being made in accordance with tradition and, in the absence of his his lordship's own preferences, the wishes of the late King Garith III of the Duchy of Merriam and the Great House of Merriam, for the coronation and crowning to be held in Merriam on the ides of the coming month, a day which will forever be marked as a feast day in commemoration of the occasion. Bid the Duke send an emissary as soon as the blockade is broken to coordinate efforts to this end. Signed, Sir Nigel, Council Knight, the Knights of Rinder..." Naeron looks up from the paper, rolling it up slowly as his eyes meet with Elloharin's.

Then, handing the paper to Emma, but not breaking his gaze at the elf, he says, "The paper is signed with the seal of the Knights..."

"This is either a masterful forgery," Crayne says sharply, "or...the truth."

Emma chews on one of her fingernails, seemingly lost in thought once more...but obviously having listened closely to the elf. 'How trustworthy can he be?' she wonders to herself, 'Meeting him here like this seems very circumspect. Perhaps the best way to know is to seek Anhur and Nire's advice? They've certainly helped guide us through some troubling times of late.'

The priestess puts away her broadsword and slips on her gauntlets once again. "I will consult with the gods and see what they have to say about you, Elloharin. Anhur and his brother, Nire, have both given us insight into our problems and I can see no better way to discern the truth of your words," she says. She steps around the hole in the broken planks of the floor and comes to stand behind him.

Putting one hand on his shoulder, she begins to chant for a moment as she closes her eyes. Finally, she prays aloud, "Would it be wise for us to believe this elf, named Elloharin the Dimmed, and accept him into our ranks?" She cocks her head, almost as if listening for a far-off voice.

For a moment there is no response. But then Emma feels the warm sensation, now remotely familiar, of her god's presence. "In times of battle the heart ought not forget forgiveness...and acceptance." A curious response, but reassuring nonetheless. Acceptance. It must refer to Elloharin, the stranger among them. But for what should she not forget forgiveness? Or for whom?

"Anhur seems pleased that this one's soul is in balance," she proclaims, "And Nire forecasts that his involvement with Rinder's Six will somehow help the situation...though in honesty, I'm not certain that Storm's kinsmen will be more apt to listen to a full-blooded elf's words. Naeron is only half-elven and he had a hard time talking any sense to them about the blockade."

She removes her hand from Elloharin's shoulder and then looks thoughtful again. "Perhaps you've been guided to us in order to help face down the threat of the Drow? It would appear that the Blood Clan thieves here in Parton have some sort of business dealings with one of their houses. Are you prepared to face dark elves in combat, Elloharin? We've fought them once already, and I can say they were a tough lot. I'm certainly not looking forward to another confrontation with them."

"No elf looks kindly upon our darkened kin," Elloharin replies with a slight nod.

'Dwarfling?' Storm thinks to himself. 'What in the nine hells he think I be?' "I be a dwarf, elf!" He decides to chime in. "As much a dwarf as any other ye met. Don't ye ferget it, either!" He sheathes his swords and turns away from the newcomer. 'Stupid elves...' he thinks again. Keeping a hand on his dagger and Elloharin in the corner of his eye, Storm main line of vision falls on the hole from which the elf emerged. It looks much bigger than Storm had originally thought, and suddenly his dwarven longing for possible treasure takes hold again. Elloharin might have gotten to any booty first, he realizes, but by no means did that mean he shouldn't check. With a slight smile cracking his stern visage, he peers over the edge of the hole in the floor and begins to inspect it thoroughly.

And there, much to his pleasure, he sees two small sacks. With a quick poke of a finger, he can tell, just by the sound: coinage. "Aye," he says to himself, very pleased. "Aye!" he repeats, "Hannibal, lookee down here!"

Hannibal rushes to the edge of the hole, peering over Storm's shoulder as the dwarf kneels in the space below. The thief's eyebrows rise as he sees the two bags. "Those look just like..."

"What is it?" Canter asks, coming to Hannibal's side.

"Crayne!" Hannibal says excitedly, "look at those. Don't they look similar--"

"--to the same ones Emerson was taking to Paros!" the mage finishes his friend's thought.

Emma moves in front of Elloharin, her eyes narrow. "Where did you get those sacks?" she demands.

"They were there...I found them..." Elloharin responds, a bit confused.

Knowing her god was in approval, Emma sees little value in spending more time upbraiding this elf. "Fine," she says flatly, "let's go." Then louder, she addresses them all. "Let us move out. It's been a long night, and if we stay here longer, those two'll wake up or we'll meet some other clan cronies.

"'The Dimmed,' eh?" Crayne says to Elloharin as they gather their things and prepare to move out. "Interesting name..."

It is around sunrise by the time they all return to the inn. And they are exhausted. Falling into their beds, they are asleep by the time their heads hit their pillows. Sleeping all day, Rinder's Six recharge their batteries, waking as the sun is setting and meeting in the tavern below for an evening meal. Before the meal, Crayne had spent some time memorizing several spells. He had sacrificed sleep in the process.

"Nephew," the elder Karelth says as he takes a seat next to Crayne, "a few more nights like that and you won't have the energy left to harness your magical powers."

"Uncle..." Crayne whines. It was so embarrassing when Karelth spoke to him like that, and did he have to do it in front of his friends?

"Listen," Cy says, chewing on some greens and putting his goblet down on the table. "We must soon make a move on this Jordice. Recall that Canter learned the wagons will only be in use for a week, which means that we haven't much more time."

Canter nods, "Agreed. I think we should find this Dragon's Tooth and have a few words with Jordice. We need to get to the bottom of this, and I think Jordice is a big step in that direction."

"Yes," Naeron says, nodding. He holds out an empty hand, emphasizing his next point: "I took a stroll to the caste this afternoon to ask around and meet with Gladstone. He told me where to find this Dragon's Tooth pub. A very lively place, he said. And I doubt he meant it was friendly."

"Let us check it out then, and see what the options are, tactically," Cy suggests.

Emma nods. "Good." It was nice to have Cy's warrior-tactician mentality around to back her up, even though her self confidence was growing to the point where she thought could handle the job on her own. "Tonight is the night, then. We have a look, and meet with Jordice. Take him down, if necessary. Unravel the plot. We need to figure out exactly what the plan is, and where Bernigan fits into it. Then we can take that information to the Dwarven Clans and maybe they'll rethink their sale of the adamantine. And if we can implicate Paros, or at last cast a shadow on him, we can get Bryant to review the Great Dwarven Pact personally."

"Besides," Elloharin chimes in, tentative at first in his new surroundings, "Sir Nigel wrote the letter..."

Emma nods again, this time to Elloharin. "Yes, we must deliver that letter. Hopefully we'll have other good news to deliver at the same time."

"Hopefully," Crayne agrees, raising his goblet.

"To success tonight, then," Cy says, his goblet raised and his arm extended.

"To success tonight," the other repeat, finishing their drink and gathering their things.

Naeron leads the group (Karelth decides to join in, this time) northward, past the castle, to a northern part of the city. The neighborhood's affluence begins to wane as more and more buildings begin to look unkempt. But soon the warm hue of firelight is cast into the street, and the loud melody of a barroom drinking song reverberates softly down the street.

"That must be it," Naeron says, walking determinedly.

Within moments, just after the sun has set below the horizon, the group comes before the Dragon's Tooth Tavern, a small hanging sign above the door identifying the place as such. It appears to be a moderately sized building, with a door in the center and two windows facing the street, one on either side. It is from these windows and the door that the light and sound leak out into the city.

The bar itself is packed, mostly with men, the gruff and rough type. A few maidens pass by the window, usually leading a stubble-cheeked soldier or other drunken man. There appear to be a number of round tables in the center of the room, and based on the location of the smokestack, probably a fireplace off to the left as you go through the door, along the far wall. To the right is the bar, at which many men and a few scantily-clad whores appear to be mingling. The sound of loud yelling and conversation is overpowering and the heat coming from the building--what with the fire and sheer number of people inside, and the cold winter wind outside--indicates it is quite a scene in there.

"Alright then," Hannibal says, turning his back to the tavern and facing the others as they congregate across the street and out of the way. "How do we go about this? Crayne? Will you make yourself invisible again? Maybe go in and see if you can find him? Do you have any spells that might draw him out to the street? Or should we all go in? I could blend in nicely in there, maybe scope the place out. But you, Emma..."

"Hannibal's right," Canter says, reaching for Emma's arm, "I'm pleased to say, you look to nice to be seen in a place like that. You'd stand out right away."

"Or at least attract some unwanted attention," Cy adds.

Storm shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get a move on. "So...ehh...what'll it be?" he asks bluntly, peering at the doorway.

The Dragon's Tooth beckons.

Crayne has memorized Charm Person (1), Color Spray (1), and Burning Hands (1), in addition to the Magic Missile (1) he had before. He also now has Invisibility (2), Mirror Image (2), and Spectral Force (3).

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