“What do you want here at the arsenal?” an old, one-legged man asks rather distractedly, as he’s busy rifling through the piles of paper on his desk.
“Have you got a writ from the hetman or from Jadra?” he continues without lifting his head.
“Yes, we do. Here it is.”
“No, do we need it?”
“Well surprise, surprise, that hasn’t happened in years. Are we at war, then? Oh well, I don’t care, no one is going to draft me anymore. Come along, I’ll show you the weapons available. Just take what you need. It’s yours, up to a value of [N] ducats.
I take your money until you leave again!”
“Yes, you do. I can’t just give away arms without authorization! You want weapons, get some papers!”
This is the city magistrate’s building. There is a young thorwalian girl dressed in the typical garb of her people in the entry hall.
“Yes?”
“We would like to know whether the town needs any capable fighters for dangerous missions?”
“What do you think this is, a mercenaries’ agency? Why don’t you ask at the harbor… maybe one of the captains will take you on.”
“The hetman sent us.”
“We want to become citizens of Thorwal.”
“We need money for an important assignment.”
“One moment, please.”
“You’re the adventurers the hetman chose for the quest, aren’t you? Well, if you are successful, you will be made Thorwalians anyway, so we’ll forget about the formalities for now.”
“That’s what they all say. If you need money for food, ask at the temples of Travia or Peraine; if you need a lot of money, ask at Stoerrebrandt’s office.”
A few minutes later, a martial looking thorwalian woman enters the hall.
“Jadra Thornsdottir, hetwoman of Bodir and something like a mayoress of this city. Tronde charged you with a dangerous quest, didn’t he? Well, as we are more or less at war with the orcs, I can give you a writ that lets you have weapons from the armory. Don’t overdo it, though, you couldn’t carry any canons anyway. My best wishes, and may Swafnir be with you!” Jadra scribbles something on a piece of paper and hands it to you.
“Good luck.”
“You’ve got everything you need!”
You are standing in front of a windmill, a miracle of technology.
do you want to knock and visit the miller?
After a number of knocks, a heavy-set man appears.
“Unless you’ve got grain to grind, buzz off and stop keeping me from my work!”
“I told you to leave me alone!”
The black finger is a tower of dark grey basalt, thirty paces high, occupied, it is said, by the somewhat eccentric Doran of Honingen. He’s a historian and might be able to help you with your quest.
Do you
* Knock?
* Walk by?
A small and shrivelled old man opens the door - “The master does not want to see anybody!” - and slams the heavy oak door in your faces.
High above the town rises the old imperial fortress, called “Old Ugdalf” by the thorwalians. Here resides the thorwalian war academy, a not very prestigious, but necessary and useful institution.
As you approach the gates, two snappy young warriors block your way:
“Halt! Who goes there! Rondra be with you! What’s the password?”
* “Rondra with you! Conference with master Dramosch!”
* “O.k., o.k., we’re leaving!”
“Sorry! No admittance! Orders!”
“One moment! I’ll ask!”
After a while, a middle-aged dwarf in shiny coat of mail appears.
You don’t look as if you intend to enlist,” he states laconically, “But seeing as you are here…”
“…you might be able to help me with a certain problem I’ve got. You may know that the fortress works go on for miles below this mountain and provide access to a number of places inside the town. Well, we still use the upper floors of the underground hallways for storage, but the entrance to the lower levels is blocked. Still, supplies keep disappearing from our stores, even weapons - and now one of our students, too…
I haven’t got the men to search the cellars systematically, so I want to ask you to do it.”
“Twenty ducats up front, fifty on completion, and anything you find down there is yours.”
“All right! You’ve got yourself a deal!”
“Uhm, no, that’s a bit too tough for us.”
“Good. Go get some equipment and come back then. Rondra be with you!”
“Pity, I thought you had some guts. I guess they’re right about not judging a book by its cover. Ah well. Rondra be with you!”
Master Dramosch is already waiting for you at the gate.
“Ready? Good. Let’s get started then.” he leads you to a former watchtower, down a number of stairways and finally to a massive, iron plated door. “From here on you are on your own. May the Twelve be with you.”
“I knew I could count on you. Here are the fifty ducats I promised you - and now tell me what you found down there!” Dramosch leads you to the grand hall and orders some kegs of beer and a decent meal as well. The evening passes, and as the morning dawns, you are quite drunk. But you eventually leave knowing that your accomplishment has made you a new and lasting friend.
“Ah, it’s you. A layer of anvil crowns? Fine. I’m sure you’ve been around, but before you start to tell me about it: maybe you can use this bit of information…
“Green kale and bacon!”
“Anvil crowns!”
“Rondra be with you!”
“Ogre battle!”
“Too secret for you.”
“Borbarad’s alive and well.”
“Free Maraskan!”
“Where’s the potty?”
“Salza is ours!”
“End of the line, Honak!”
Master Dramosch
You are standing in front of “Clairvoyant college”, Thorwal’s academy of magic. A young adept asks why you’ve come.
“There’s a curse on one of our number. We need help.”
“We would like to have an artifact analyzed.”
“Do you sell miracle tinctures?”
The adept leads you to a backroom.
“Wait here.” some time later, a middle-aged woman enters.
“My name is Aranda of Methumis. Let me have a look at your friend.” she stares at [NAME] for a while.
“Ah yes, a curse. Well, we shall see what can be done. But first the business aspect. It will cost you 20 ducats.”
Do you
The adept leads you to a backroom.
“Wait here.” some time later, a black-haired magician of about thirty years enters.
“Aleya Ambareth, clairvoyant. You found something that’s been lost in some treasure chest or other and don’t know what it is or what to do with it? I know the problem, I’ve had it often enough myself. Let me have a look at it. Oh yes, the analysis will cost you ten ducats.”
Do you
“You better go see an apothecary for that. Hesinde be with you.”
“You haven’t got the money? Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll take [NAME] in lieu of it.”
“Yes, we do mind!”
“Certainly, help yourself!”
“That’s too much!”
“All right, everything has its price, I guess.”
???“Well, in that case I can’t help you. Get the money and we can talk about it. For now, peace be with you.”
“Good, let’s get down to it then.”
After about half an hour [NAME] notices a distinct relief, and a short time later, the spell’s effect is gone. Aranda wipes the sweat off her brow.
“All right then, that’s it. I hope you’re feeling better now. I have to go rest awhile. Peace be with you.”
The mage looks the artifact over for a while.
[NAME]
I hope I’ve been of service. Till the next time - I’m sure you’ll be back. You are adventurers, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry, Aranda is not available. Try again tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, Aleya is not available. Try again tomorrow.”
The adept leads you to a backroom.
“Wait here.” some time later, a middle-aged woman enters.
“My name is Aranda of Methumis. Let me have a look at your friend.” she stares at you for a while, then she turns to leave. “None of you are under a curse. Please don’t waste my time with your petty complaints! When you’re under a real curse come back!”
Part with the gold
Turn to leave
“Stop bothering me then! Hesinde be with you!”