As
our party of adventurer’s travels the Argenian Wastelands……
The
city Wychlight, a bar called the Crocked Croc
A
very well dressed gnome sits in a booth off to the side of the bar. The Crocked
Croc is full of locals tonight sharing stories, songs and drink. The majority
of the tourists and adventure seekers had left town days ago. The halls of
healing were still overflowing with the injured and sick, from the perils of
the ill prepared travelling and fighting the swamp and it’s many creatures. The
gnome sat sipping a fine wine while watching the entrance to the bar. The
thrill and excitement of the yearly swamp culling had begun to dwindle, but the
nightlife was still very active in town.
Minutes
passed as did another glass of wine and then the gnome saw who he was sent here
to meet. A trio of human men came walking into the bar. They were dressed in
fine leather armor and a blue tabard emblazoned with a silver goblet on the
front. They looked to him as military men by their look and movements. Why had
he been sent to meet with them? What was his master thinking now? He thought as
they approached his booth.
“Please
sit .” the gnome said. “Order anything you like.”
“Three
flagons of whatever mead they have will do.” Replied one of the men, obviously
the spokesman for the group.
The
gnome motioned to bartender, ordered their beverages and passed on a handful of
silver coins.
“Well
gentlemen welcome to Wychlight. You may refer to me as Mr. Aborgast and I am
here to discuss terms of employment for your little group, the Silver Chalices
is it? It seems your mercenary band has chapters in a few locations and your
group in Stonekeep is currently on hiatus after the events with those rampaging
gnolls in the farmlands. I also understand that you lost your commander to a
poorly thought and executed duel. Am I right on all of this so far?” asked Mr.
Aborgast.
“Yes
that is all correct. We shuttered the lodge in Stonekeep after we chose to not
help the group that killed the Commander. We took orders from him, not some
unruly upstart ½ orc savage. We closed shop and came South to form up with the
Silver Chalices in Wychlight. Well that was until we received word from the
Chamberlain Hobson from Cloveshire Keep that there was ample opportunity for
some off the books mercenary work. We were told to meet here on this day with
someone like you. So here we are so let us get past the niceties Mr. Aborgast and on to the subject of
work and pay!”
The
gnome sat up much straighter in the booth, removed his spectacles and began to
clean them with a while silk handkerchief. “Well then gentlemen. Since your
little band of disgraced fighters has been laughed out of mercenary work in
Stonekeep and will soon be the bottom of the barrel when it comes to the Silver
Chalice’s in Wychlight, I think you will find any offer I have very intriguing.
My benefactor has sent me to offer you work North of Stonekeep. You are needed
to act as guardsmen for one of his businesses. You will also help with
supporting, and leading some associates in desperate need of military training.
Third you will be offered a shot at revenge against that barbarian that slew
your commander so easily in single combat. Fourth you will be given a line of
credit to purchase whatever arms and armor you require. Fifth you must swear
fealty to me on behalf of our soon to be mutual benefactor. Lastly, you will
serve until you die doing your job or until our mutual patron deems your
service unnecessary. If we have a deal all I require is your word for you and
all the men under your command. Do we have an accord, or would you rather join
with the Southern chapter of your organization and be their whipping boys for
the next few years? I understand disgrace carries a heavy burden in the halls
of the Silver Chalices.”
The
three men look to one another, lean in and discuss in hushed tones for a couple of minutes. Their spokesman replies,
“ We have a deal. How soon do we start?”
“Well
as soon as you finish that mead go to the third landing from the end of the
pier. My associates will meet you there. They will pass on written orders for
you along with a map to various locales. You will start work in the morning. I
welcome your service as does the mast…er...I
mean our humble and noble patron. I look forward to seeing your little band in
action as does your new benefactor. No don’t doddle. You have work to do.” Mr.
Abogast dismisses the three men with a wave of his little hand.
The
three humans down their mead, slam their mugs, rise and leave the bar.
The
gnome puts his meticulously clean spectacles back on his face. He shakes his
head as the warriors leave. “Fools.” He mutters to himself. “They never have a
clue as to what they sign up for, but they all do anyway. The promise of money,
power or revenge is all it ever takes. It looks like all three in the case of
that group. Still they will server their purpose and hopefully well enough.”
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