Chapter 10 - Part 1

CHAPTER TEN – REUNIONS, PART II
The 1st of Sypheros, 993 Y.K., the town of Merylsward

“I’ve had enough, orc,” Chubat snarled. To him this was plainly battle, and not one he wanted to lose.

“Big talk,” Delegado told him. He finally had the dirty, obnoxious dwarf where he wanted him, and he wasn’t going to let him go. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Chubat grabbed the coins from his pocket and tossed them on the table. “See you and raise!” he bellowed. He paused to quaff another ale. “Can you ‘find’ any more money to give me, pig-face?”

“I’m out,” Vuchen said, tossing his cards forward. The Vadalis manager relit his pipe, which had gone out in the previous hand. “You two can throw away coin to prove who has the biggest one, all right? I’m a businessman, I’ll place an investment on my next hand.”

Delegado grinned, feeling a bit light-headed. First Chubat and he had played darts, but there was no clear winner. Then they had arm-wrestled, and the half-orc had won – but barely. Finally, after too many drinks, the others had come and suggested cards. “What about you, brother? Or is it father?”

“I am a mere adept of Boldrei,” Vullbo said. The human was pudgy, and his taste for sweet cakes amongst his parishioners was well known. Still he healed people for free, and had a burning hatred for Aundair, so he was well liked. “My work is more important than my title.”

“Yeah, in or out?” Delegado demanded. He was sure it was out. He had been tracking humans for so long that he was very sensitive to their body language.

“Don’t mind Delegado, he’s a jerk,” Chubat said, having another drink.

“Are you talking again?” Delegado asked him. Feather squawked something.

“I’m out,” the clergyman said, folding his cards down. “Like our esteemed local leader of Vadalis, I believe that this hand is not my best.”

“Well I’m in,” Delegado said, meeting Chubat’s wager. He did not raise, and for good reason. Really big fish had to be given slack, so they would think the fisherman couldn’t reel them in. “That would be your turn, your honorship.”

Mayor Tippish had dealt the hand, so tradition dictated he bid last. “Hm,” the shifter said, scratching a broad, hairy nose. “I smell trouble, but far be it from me to withdraw when I have only just joined.” Tippish was thought by many in the town to be an idiot, but Delegado was beginning to suspect it was an act. “I’ll meet you both, and raise.” He tossed in two more coins.

Chubat glared at Delegado. The half-orc glared back. “Are you in?” the dwarf asked.

“There’s an order to this game, stone-breath,” Delegado explained. “You bid before me.”

Chubat frowned. The mayor had tossed in two silver pieces, a high stake in a game with a copper ante. “Fine, I meet.”

“So do I,” Delegado said. Both tossed in their coins.

“Hah!” Chubat said, putting his cards down. “Three dragons!”

“The rich field,” Delegado said, putting down the wheat bundle, the king, the knight, the road, and the well. “It beats three of a kind.” He reached for the coins as Chubat began to turn colors.

“Five dragonmarks,” the mayor said, tossing his cards between Delegado’s hands and the coins.

The half-orc gaped, and Chubat exploded with laughter.

“Woo-hoo!” Chubat howled, pounding his chair. “Someone counted his dragonshards before the crocodile ate them!” The mayor smirked as he gathered up his winnings. The adept stifled a laugh behind a cough, and Vuchen gave a chuckle.

“Crocodiles don’t eat dragonshards, you stone brain,” Delegado snapped.

“Do these two really like each other or really hate each other?” Vullbo asked Vuchen.

“Oh, they hate each other,” the Vadalis manager assured him. He called for more ale and more snacks. “Someone shuffle and give Chubat the cards, I’m feeling lucky.”

The mayor shuffled the cards, cut them, and gave them to the dwarf. Chubat drained another ale and began to deal.

“So,” Delegado said, not looking at his cards until he had all five. “If this is a Vadalis company town, how come Vuchen isn’t the mayor?”

Vuchen coughed into some ale. “Delegado, are you always this blunt?”

“For the orc, that’s polite,” Chubat grunted.

“Vuchen is not the regional manager, just the local one,” Tippish explained politely. “And while Vadalis does indeed control four major communities, this being one of them, their control is tempered by the custom and law of the Reaches. Oalian does not suffer his edicts being ignored, and Vadalis respects him.”

“Del,” Vuchen said carefully. “Much like your House is one with the Marches where it arose, so too we are one with the Reaches. We are the primary employer in Merylsward, and Varna, and two other towns, but no one rules here. We just have a command of resource allotment and our arrangement with Oalian gives us much latitude.”

“Wonderful speech,” Delegado said. “Now ante up. I wasn’t trying to make trouble, I was just curious. I don’t get into the Reaches much.”

“Your exploits certainly do,” Vullbo said. He joined everyone with the ante, and then looked at his cards. He made a face of disgust, but the half-orc could tell that the fat adept was delighted. “The Korranberg Chronicle has written a few articles about you. You did a job for Morgrave University, I understand?”

“Overblown,” Delegado said. “Most of the really dangerous stuff I do never makes it into the rags that call themselves the papers of news.”

“You’ve been in Droaam, I understand,” Mayor Tippish said, looking at his cards. His eyes betrayed nothing. “We’re still at war with them. So is Breland. Did anyone ask you about what it’s like there?”

“A dock official in Sharn,” Delegado said finally looking at his cards. They weren’t too bad. “I told him to go kiss the Keeper. My House’s arrangement with the hags doesn’t allow for us to be spies.”

“The whole of Droaam needs to be wiped off the earth,” Vuchen muttered. “It’s a shame it doesn’t border Aundair.”

“We’re supposed to neutral in all that,” Delegado said, wagging a finger at Vuchen. “Dragonmarked Houses don’t get involved in the war.”

Vuchen had another drink, then tossed down a card. “Just the one,” he told Chubat. “I ought to buy a second card, but I’m not sure it’s worth it.” To Delegado he said “I’ve got feelings, everyone does. Don’t tell me there isn’t a side that you don’t hate or like.”

Delegado considered that, watching the adept trade in one card, free according to the rules of the game, and pay a copper to trade in a second one. “I hate the Emerald Claw, I’ll tell you that,” the half-orc said. He decided to stick with his hand, knowing that it would make him appear to be more confident. “They’re psychotics, every one. They have no normal motives, you just can’t deal with them.”

“They’re Karrns,” the mayor said. “That whole country is insane. Who doesn’t let their dead sleep?” He tossed down one card and three coppers. “Give me one in exchange and one extra to keep,” he said. Chubat dutifully handed him the cards.

“Zombies all scary, keep the widdle orc up wif terrors at night?” Chubat snickered. He threw in only one card. Tradition did not allow the dealer to exchange more.

“Aren’t you listening?” Delegado asked, rolling his eyes. “Even for a dwarf you’re dumb! I’ve fought undead, they don’t frighten me – well, except the ones that can move through things, but I’ve never encountered those, just read about them.”

“You read?” Chubat asked. “How?”

“But you’ve tangled with the Claw?” Vuchen said. He tossed in two coins. “And?”

“I knew a Thuranni agent that was tracking the Emerald Claw two years ago,” Delegado said, as the adept pitched in two coins, but did not raise. “He was one of best. He disappeared and I was hired to find him.” The half-orc bounty hunter examined his cards.

“And did you?” prompted the mayor.

“Yeah,” Delegado said, tossing in two coins. He would raise next hand if he stayed in. “I found him. I found pieces of him all over Karrnath.”

Murmurs of awe went around the table, except from Chubat. Karrnath shared a border with the Mror Holds, and Chubat did not discuss anything that had to do with the Mror Holds.

“Time someone raised,” said the mayor, tossing in five pieces of copper. “Vuchen, does House Vadalis generate such stories?”

“We breed, buy, and sell animals,” Vuchen chuckled. “When we go places it is to do the same. Except for the Valenar, we usually don’t get any problems.”

“Not even from the Talenta savages?” the adept asked. He frowned at Chubat. “Good sir, are you –”

“Folding,” Chubat said, tossing his cards in. “Had I been able to trade another…bah!”

“We stay with either Jorasco or Ghallanda,” Vuchen said. He pursed his lips, then met the mayor’s bid. “In general houses try to stay together, the theory being if someone doesn’t respect yours, they’ll respect the other.” After a pause he raised one.

The adept met both and raised. Delegado tossed his hand in. The mayor rapidly met and raised the maximum. Vuchen folded.

“I haven’t traveled to Talenta, although I’ve wondered about it,” Delegado said, having some roast fish. It was salty, presumably to encourage him to drink more ale, but it was good. “Those Valenar though, they’re crazy. Hard to believe they’re elves.”

“What do you mean?” the adept asked absently. He kept glancing at his cards, then the mayor’s bet, then the cards.

“Elves usually let things go, kind of take the long view,” Delegado said. He grinned across the table. “Not like dwarves, who hold grudges for generations.”

“Or orcs, who don’t have the brains to remember anything,” Chubat snapped.

“At least a quarter of the druids in the Eldeen Reaches are orcs or half-orcs,” Mayor Tippish pointed out idly. He asked a passing serving wench for some more ale. Wine was not a drink of choice in the Reaches now, as people felt it was too Aundairian. “I believe that you were lecturing Delegado about being nice earlier?”
Delegado decided that he liked the mayor.

“That was Pienna, not me!” the dwarf spat. “Now can you and the deacon here finish the hand so the rest of us can join in?”

“Hold your water,” the adept muttered. He finally met the raise and said “I call!” He put his cards down somewhat slowly.

The mayor laughed and tossed his cards in. “I was bluffing!” he admitted. “The pot is yours, good adept!” Vullbo gave a grin of relief as he gathered in his winnings.

“I’m surprised given how much you two both respect Pienna that you fight with each other,” Vuchen said, as Chubat shuffled the cards.

“Who said that?” Delegado said. He tried the hard, cooked biscuits that the Reachers called ‘pretzels,’ and was unimpressed. “I respect the Gatekeepers, grew up with them, but Pienna gets no special treatment from me.”

Vuchen took the cards from Chubat and began to deal. “You don’t like House Cannith much, eh?”

Delegado raised an eyebrow. Vuchen was a lot sharper than he seemed. “Yeah, that may have something to do with it.”

“What does a gatekeeper druidess have to do with the House of Making?” asked a puzzled mayor.

“She was born from them and left them,” Chubat said, chugging yet another ale. The legendary dwarven fortitude was being demonstrated. A human having that much alcohol would be weaving and slurring. “Delegado has to pick on her for that because he has nothing else to pick at.”

“He’s talking again,” Delegado said. “Why is he talking?” No one raised a smile, the half-orc had said things far more clever than that.

“When I see each monstrosity that Cannith produces, I wonder if the Ashbound are right,” the adept said, frowning at his cards. He put in a coin and two cards, getting two new ones in return. “House Cannith too has changed. Not a generation ago they were another dragonmarked house, wealthy yes, but into customer service. Their great leap forward as a result of these golems they sell has corrupted them.”

“Kundarak as well,” growled Chubat. They all stared at him briefly, surprised.

“Ah, so speaking of the Talenta savages,” Vuchen said, changing the subject. “I hear there’s one in town.”

“And if there is?” Delegado said, tossing in one card. He had a very nice hand and was trying to keep his face still.

“And if there is?” Chubat said, almost at the same time. He then glared at the half-orc. Delegado snickered.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Mayor Tippish said, glossing the matter over smoothly. “If there was one in town, and one would only know that if a certain goblin woman who works here can’t keep quiet, I would have already assured that there was no threat.” He also put in only one card. “The fish is excellent!”

“It’s odd that you two don’t like each other,” the adept said. “You’re a lot alike.”

Delegado put his hand on his adamantine longsword and half-drew it. Chubat sat up with his axe in his hand. Everyone around them stopped talking and stared.

“He meant no harm by the observation,” Vuchen said quietly. “Now put your weapons away.” The half-orc and the dwarf looked at each other. “Now,” Vuchen said. “Or you will be spending six months in our jail.”

The half-orc let his sword go, and the dwarf tucked his axe back. Someone nearby made a diplomatic joke, and conversation resumed.

“I thought you said Vadalis wasn’t in control around here,” Chubat snorted. He tossed in three cards and three coins, paying more for the third than the second, as was the rule.

“Let’s say that Oalian grants certain things to us,” Vuchen said evenly. He exchanged only one card. “I wonder at your reaction, however, why don’t you like each other?”

“He stuck an axe in me,” Delegado said.

“He runs his mouth about family honor,” Chubat grumbled.

“Remind me not to discuss genealogy with you, sir,” Vullbo said, tossing in three coins.

“Meet and raise,” Delegado said, tossing in six. Vuchen folded.

“Caravan is in” someone called.

“I need to go meet the Brelish ambassador,” the mayor sighed, tossing in his cards. “A pleasure, gentlemen.” He got up, leaving a coin for the serving wench.

“Why is an ambassador from Breland here?” Vullbo asked, meeting the raise grudgingly.

“That decision was made by many above me,” the mayor shrugged, walking off.

“In or out, Chubat,” Delegado said.

“All the way in,” Chubat said. He put in a silver.

“You can’t raise more than three,” Vullbo pointed out. The mayor had earlier, but he was the mayor, so they had let it slide.

“Consider it a free one,” the dwarf chuckled. There was a buzz by the door, Delegado figured the Brelish ambassador had been spotted.

“Free my behind,” Vullbo sighed, tossing his cards in. “When does a dwarf do that? Er, no offense.”

“Why no offense?” Delegado said. “Offense is fun.” He tossed in a silver as well, even though he was only entitled to raise by five in the second round. He noted Vuchen staring, and turned around in his chair to look at the door. A tall man in a hood and cloak was speaking to the innkeeper. He had a greataxe and javelins, all sheathed.

“It’s not hot, but it sure isn’t cold enough for that hood, is it?” Vuchen asked.

“Not my problem,” Delegado said, more to himself than to the Vadalis manager. He turned back to face the table.

“Call,” Chubat said, tossing in some more coins and showing his cards.

“F’test!” Delegado swore, throwing his cards down. The dwarf’s hand was one rank better. Chubat made a satisfactory chuckle.

“Master Delegado, you have hunted many men,” the adept said urgently. “Does something about that one strike you funny?”

Delegado sighed, and turned back around to stare at the stranger. The man realized he was being watched, and he turned to eye Delegado. When the hood turned his way, the half-orc got a look under it with his darkvision. “Fury’s Eyes!” the half-orc said, reaching for his bow. He clicked his tongue, and Feather launched himself into the rafters. “Dwarf, look under his hood!”

Chubat stopped cackling over his winnings long enough to do so, and then yanked his waraxe out, knocking the coins to the floor, unheeded. “Ware the stranger!” he yelled.

The crowd gasped and parted, and the man in the hood jumped to the side, getting his back to a wall. Delegado took a chance and fired, grazing the man’s head. As the arrow buried itself in the wall, it yanked the hood back, giving everyone a look at the man’s face.

If the crowd had been on edge by the weapon play, it almost rioted at what it saw. The man was almost identical to a human in his facial features, except for a pale sheen over his eyes that obscured the pupils and irises. Something else about the man’s face seemed fundamentally unnatural, but the crowd’s reaction had nothing to do with his face. A wriggling thing that could be a snake, if not for the jerky, uneven, decidedly unnatural way in which it moved, was attached to the back of his neck. His flesh was pale, and its flesh was the color of a bruise, and where they met was a series of veiny discolorations that would not stay still. The wriggling thing had no mouth, or other features, but a single overly large white eye that crackled with static discharge.

“Everyone get out of here!” Vuchen yelled, drawing his weapon and trying to move forward. Too many people were fleeing away from the thing and past him for him to make any headway.

Delegado wanted to fire another arrow, but he couldn’t risk hitting a civilian. He put his bow back in place and took out his sword while he stepped out of the way of a large, panicked lumberjack. Behind him Chubat had his axe out, and was trying to get past the panicked folk. Chubat’s dwarven waraxe had a special enchantment that was a bane to aberrations, and was made of byeshk besides. If they could take this thing down quickly…

Feather shrieked and dove at the thing. “No!” Delegado yelled at his hawk. The bird did not hear over the yelling of everyone in the common room. The wriggling thing lifted itself and a bolt of electricity shot out, hitting Feather dead on. The hawk swerved off, twitching and smoking.

Delegado did not remember pushing past everyone, although later someone told him that he threw one man so hard that he flew through the air. Most of them got out of the half-orc’s way, for such was the look of murder in Delegado’s eye.

The stranger had his greataxe out, and he wore solid breastplate under the cloak. Nonetheless Delegado’s adamantine blade bit deep and found blood as it slashed at the man’s side. A return stroke from the man’s greataxe forced the half-orc back before he could give a more serious wound.

“I do not want to fight anyone!” the stranger yelled, swinging his large weapon in a defensive pattern.

“You won’t last long enough to!” snarled Chubat, who had finally managed to arrive. The head of his axe seemed to be sparking and shining. The dwarf ducked under the greataxe and slammed his own weapon into the stranger’s leg, barely being turned aside by the breastplate greaves.

The stranger roared with pain, and seemed to go berserk, screaming and frothing at the mouth. He swung his axe down onto Chubat, and the dwarf barely had time to lift his heavy shield up. The slamming clang of metal on metal was accompanied by a loud crack, and Chubat hissed between his teeth as his arm was fractured.

The innkeeper had gotten in next to the stranger, and he slapped a frying pan down onto the wriggling thing that spat lightning. When he did so, the stranger yelled in pain.

Delegado swung his sword down with both hands, intending to sever the stranger’s greataxe, but enraged or not the stranger cunningly reversed his grip and his axe hit Delegado in the gut. The mithril chain shirt held, but the half-orc felt all the air leave his lungs.

Vuchen was there, throwing some kind of sand onto the buzzing eye of the bruised stalk. The dust congealed over the thing’s end, blocking its electrical blast, and Vuchen harried the stranger with a longsword. He didn’t land a blow, but he got him to back off of Delegado.

The half-orc, the human, and the dwarf all took a step back and fanned out from the stranger, eyeing him carefully. The stranger continued to bleed but he seemed to ignore it. The thing attached to his neck blasted the dust off. The people milling back were screaming. By the doorway Delegado heard someone yell about protecting the ambassador.

“I did not come here to fight!” the stranger said again. “I came here for Pienna!”

That didn’t help things. As one, Chubat, Vuchen, and Delegado lunged forward. Each one drew blood. The half-orc clipped the stranger above the eye. Chubat slashed the man’s arm. Vuchen caught the stranger in the side where Delegado’s sword had earlier.
The stranger’s response was immediate, and he slashed Vuchen once in the neck and then again in the gut. The Vadalis manager jerked backwards from the neck blow, only taking a superficial cut, but the gut blow tore open his belly, slicing through the leather armor like paper. Vuchen gasped and fell backwards, blood gouting from between his fingers as he tried to hold back his entrails.

“That’s two I owe you!” Delegado said, cutting the stranger again, this time on the shoulder.

“Forget him and get one of your potions into Vuchen before he dies!” Chubat yelled. The dwarf’s face was white as he forced his shield arm to work, but his axe arm tore something out of the stranger’s other shoulder. In response the wriggling thing blasted Chubat, and the dwarf’s beard smoked.

Delegado ran to Vuchen, who was vomiting while lying on the floor. The half-orc dropped his blade and rummaged in his pouch for his most serious curing potion. “Keep your head up, Vuchen! Keep it up or you’ll choke!” Delegado yelled.
The half-orc shoved the entrails back in before pouring the potion on top of the wound. No sense in closing it up with stuff still outside. The Jorasco potion worked swiftly, and Vuchen stopped heaving at he sat up with normal color returning to his cheeks. An angry scar remained on his stomach, but he seemed to have no other ill effects.

One hundred and twenty five pieces of gold, Delegado thought. Well worth it.

Chubat’s body landed heavily on the ground behind Delegado. The half-orc turned to see that the dwarf was hanging onto consciousness by his fingernails. Chubat’s armor had held, but only just. A knot of people, including a shifter Warden of the Wood who was in full claw mode, had surrounded a human in bright blue clothing. The stranger stood alone, bleeding from a number of places.

“Do I need to kill all of you before you’ll listen to me?” roared the man, swirling the greataxe back and forth as he stepped away from the wall. His face was livid, and bloody foam flecked his mouth. He was in the full-blown berserker rage that Delegado had seen many of his cousins in the Shadow Marches fall into during battle.

“No,” came a calm voice from the other end of the room. A humanoid figure made of wood, stone, and metal blurred past Delegado, a flashing weapon in its hand. The long prongs on it caught the greataxe handle as the warforged slipped under the stranger’s deadly swings. With leverage and a sudden twist, and perhaps some magic built into the prongs of the sai, the warforged disarmed the stranger, and the greataxe clattered to the wooden floor. Shocked, the stranger swung a fist at the warforged, but the living construct caught his wrist with two hands, and threw him over onto the ground. The stranger ended up on his stomach while the warforged stood on his back, pinning his hands together.

From the rafters, Feather swooped down and gashed the wriggling thing, and again the stranger screamed when harm came to what was attached to him. The stranger tried to buck the warforged off of him, but instead the warforged let go of the man’s wrists long enough to grab his head and slam it into the floor twice.

The stranger slumped unconscious, his many wounds finally taking their toll. The unnatural thing attached to him flopped over as well.

Everyone was quiet, and then the Wardens of the Wood slowly began to applaud.

“Well, thank you,” the warforged said, sounding abashed.

Delegado’s eyes narrowed. He knew that voice. The last time he had seen this forged was in Wroat, and it hadn’t been so fond of clothing then.

Chubat stood slowly, wincing in pain. “Well there, mister machine, we owe you a debt of thanks!”

“Indeed,” Vuchen said, sheathing his sword. “That was fairly nifty, ah, what do we call you?”

“He named himself Iron Orphan,” the half-orc said, grabbing his blade and sheathing it.

“Delegado,” the warforged said, his tone less than happy.

“You two know each other?” the mayor asked, stepping forward.

“It’s a long story,” the warforged said warily.

“Oh dinna be afraid, Iron Orphan,” Chubat coughed. “If Delegado doesn’t like you that makes me your friend!”

“We are in your debt,” Vuchen said. “What can we do to recompense you?”

“Ahem,” began the ambassador. “It so happens that when a similar situation occurred in Breland, with Bulwark, who is – ”

“Shut up,” said several people simultaneously.

“I need no reward,” Iron Orphan said. “I am just looking for Sister Pienna, a gatekeeper druidess.”

“Isn’t everybody,” Delegado said, glancing down at the beaten stranger.