#were clearly meant to be used to write PARTY but they got somewhat repurposed

[hellkitepriest]

more journal stuff from the last couple days

[battlecrazed-axe-mage]

Sometimes you just gotta write a story about a really particularly satisfying D&D session

“Guys. Something stinks about this place,” the half-drow muttered to his travelling companions, cutting his eyes left and right around the sparsely-populated tavern. “Have you noticed it’s all humans around here? Ever since we got into town, nothing but humans.”

The members of the ragtag party that had managed to make it down from their rooms, a nobly-dressed tiefling and an armored dwarf, nodded. “I’m starting to feel a tad...noticed,” the tiefling lady admitted. It was true, the barkeep was looking at them somewhat askance as she washed a glass past the point where it really needed it.

“All except the street kids. Even the kids in the orphanage were all human,” Errikas the dwarf pointed out.

“And no sign of Lorsan in either,” frowned Meteora the tiefling. They’d come across the little elf girl while traveling and convinced her to come with them, but on the way to Vercon she’d either run away or been taken--and neither option appealed to Meteora, whose smallest foster sisters reminded her very much of Lorsan. Their attempts to find her so far had been fruitless, but had turned up some interesting ripples in the world of the thieves’ guild and given them a name to look into.

“Well. Maybe the innkeeper can help us out,” Mattias the drow said, putting up his hood, squaring his shoulders, and taking a seat at the bar. Being half-human, when his ears were hidden, he could nearly pass for full. To the woman whose glass was now cleaner than it’d ever been in its life, he said, “I was wondering if you might answer a few questions for us?”

The human visibly startled, but she recovered well and responded, “If I can, sure, what do you want to know?”

The dwarf took his seat next to the drow, with the tiefling claiming a stool a safe distance away, past a stuffy-looking human man who was nursing a light amber glass of something.

“Have you heard of a man called Veren Zehra?”

The innkeeper blinked thoughtfully. “The family name is familiar, I’ve definitely known someone by that name, but I don’t know much.”

“Do you know if he’s a trustworthy sort?” the drow pressed.

“Can’t say that I do.” Her voice began to get a bit frosty, and she fixed him with a suspicious eye. “You aren’t from around here, are you? You don’t look...local.”

A few seats down, Meteora tensed, silently pulling her hood over her horns. Nothing could hide her dull reddish skin, though, and she felt dreadfully vulnerable in this place.

“No, we’re just passing through,” sidestepped Mattias airily. “Lots of humans around here, aren’t there? Do you know why that is, or where the non-humans go?”

“I’m--I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman stammered, face flushing a bit. “I think maybe you should g--”

“BARKEEP!” roared Errikas in a thick dwarven accent he didn’t normally sport, slapping his hand on the wooden bar. “A PINT OF YOUR FINEST DWARVEN ALE, IF YOU PLEASE!”

The innkeeper jumped back a step, concentration broken, but nodded professionally and drew a pint of something from a barrel nearby. She slid it to the dwarf, who took a healthy draught, then frowned into his tankard. “This isn’t dwarven ale.”

“I do apologize, we don’t have anything like that here--only local cider. It’s a specialty, though!”

The dwarf harrumphed, but drained his pint in one mighty gulp and asked for another, beard a tad soggy. The human next to him sniffed disdainfully.

“Whatsa matter, lad, got a cold?” Errikas asked, starting on his next pint.

“How disgusting and uncivilized,” the man sneered at him.

Errikas threw his head back and laughed heartily and long. “Aye, lad, certainly! You’re lucky I’m wearing pants, what with my lack of civilization! Barkeep, a pint of--what was it, cider? A cider for my friend here!”

He was still laughing as the man made a squawk of dismay and fled the bar. The party finished their drinks and made to leave, only to be met at the door by the flustered human man, with two city guards following.

“There he is, sirs! The ruffian who threatened to take his pants off and flash me!” he accused.

“I wh--I did no such thing!” Errikas protested indignantly. “In fact, I offered this man a drink, we’re friends now!”

The guards looked not a bit convinced. Sensing trouble, Meteora swept in between them all velvet and lace and serenity, and murmured in her best picture of a refined noble, “Now now good sirs, no need for such unpleasantness. You see, this man has had a bit to drink and gotten a tad excited, we’ll get him up to his room where he can compose himself.”

Still sputtering, the man insisted, “No! Arrest them!”

The guards looked from one party to the other uncertainly. One suggested to his friend, “We should have the captain straighten this one out.” 

The other nodded. “That’s probably for the best.”

Casting a glance at her companions, Meteora inclined her head gracefully and put her hand out as if expecting to be escorted down a grand staircase. The closer guard gulped and offered his arm with an almost reluctant air--but offer he did, and down they went to the guard station.

It wasn’t a far walk, and soon Meteora’s escort was calling, “Captain, we have a dispute that needs settling!”

The captain of the guard was a tall, broad-shouldered fellow in armor, with long hair and good features that furrowed wearily as he saw their accuser. “Not you again,” he groaned. “What is it this time?”

Meteora again took point, smoothly explaining as she had before, “I do apologize, my companion meant no harm--he’s merely had a pint or two and got...overexcited, and I believe he’s managed to offend this gentleman.”

The walk over had, if possible, only worked said gentleman more into a frenzy. “This--creature slammed his fist on the bar and frightened that poor woman! And then threatened to flash me! And that one was harassing her with all kinds of impertinent questions--”

The captain cut him off with a gesture. “I see no reason to arrest anyone here, honestly. Please leave, I’ll speak to these three and make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He nodded to a subordinate, who took the still-raving man firmly by the arm and led him to the door.

To the tiefling, drow, and dwarf, he said, “Come with me, back here,” and led them to a back room.

As they fell into step, Mattias muttered to the other two, “Think we can trust this guy?”

Meteora immediately nodded her confirmation--the man had treated them with none of the ill-disguised contempt or stifled fear of nearly everyone else in town--while Errikas scrutinized his back intently, then shrugged. “Don’t see that we have much choice.”

The captain closed the door behind them, then let out a long sigh. “Right then, we can speak freely. What are the three of you doing here? Clearly you’re not from Vercon.”

Meteora smiled enchantingly, the fully opaque picture of innocence. “We escorted a pair of merchants here and thought we might stay for the festival. We’ve been told it’s something we simply must see.”

The captain raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I see. Well, it is that. But why are you really here?”

Mattias appraised the other man, deciding to tactically lay some of their cards on the table. “Something isn’t...right here, is it? We’ve hardly seen anyone but humans in this town, except for the street kids. What’s happened to their families? Where is everyone?”

He nodded, considering the three carefully and apparently finding them acceptable. “We have had some...disappearances, lately. A lot, in fact. I know the Thieves’ Guild is trying their best to take care of the children, and they’ve turned to petty theft.” He rubbed his brow. “A large part has to do with the lord’s recent crackdown on crime.”

“Oh?”

“The order he’s given is that any crime, no matter how small or petty or even imagined, must be cause for...re-education. He’s repurposed a temple nearby for the process, and I haven’t seen a lot of people return from it. Those who do are...changed, skittish and afraid of their own shadows.”

“Are most of the arrested non-human?” Mattias asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nearly all.” The captain turned away from them and spoke to the wall. “I myself am in a...precarious situation. I’m, well...I’m confined to these barracks until such a time that I...” His voice went bitterly sarcastic. “Until I choose to comply with our lord’s directives.”

“That’s some bullshit,” the drow said bluntly.

The captain snorted a laugh and moved back to face them, not noticing Meteora’s gaze suddenly piercing him. She studied his features but wasn’t entirely sure she was seeing what she was seeing. She caught Mattias’s eye and cut hers at the captain--casually placing a hand to her ear, tilting her head inquisitively.

Comprehending her signs after a moment, Mattias slowly and deliberately lowered his hood, tucking his hair behind slightly pointed ears. Meteora, with only the slightest hesitation, followed suit, revealing delicate horns peeking out of her blonde curls.

The captain froze a moment, then relaxed--and ruffled his long hair and smoothed it, confirming their suspicions with elf-pointed ears. He cleared his throat and asked, “Now that you know the score--how long do you intend to stay in the city?” The unspoken implication hung heavy in the air: how long did a party of nonhumans mean to gamble their safety and sanity in a city clearly hostile to them?

There was only one possible answer.

Meteora took a breath, resolutely met the captain’s gaze, and spoke, knowing she spoke for all of them. “As long as it takes,” was all she said, her words a vow unbreakable.

He let out a long, slow sigh. “As long as it takes,” he repeated almost wonderingly as understanding dawned. “Okay.” He scrutinized each of them in turn and nodded approvingly. “So then. Tell me what you need from me.”