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Tales of Edoria: chatter on the way | by Lord Woodwolf
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Tales of Edoria: chatter on the way

“Oi lass, mind if I ask ye somethin’?” Thirn asked. In response, Sarah Brightspark merely shrugged “Err, of course sir.” The dwarf waved it away and grinned “Well firstly, Call me Thirn. You’re with the rangers now. Well, more or less and we expect to remember one’s rank without havin’ tae remind ourselves of every five damn minutes. Besides, Ye wouldn’t know lass, but as soon as this lot leaves and It’s just the rangers left, all those titles and ranks will go straight out of the window.” “Doesn’t sound to different from us engineers, hell, most of us who came just mainly see this a chance to field-test our creations. But your question?” “Aye” he scratched his head and then pointed at the large wrench with a big blue crystal imbedded in it, hanging from her belt. “I know that you lot are fond of yer tools, but don’t ya think that that’s a wee bit much decoration?” “Well, it’s not just a tool you see, it’s also a weapon! I call it the Bightspark powerwrench 3000. You see this gem? It was originally acquired by my uncle. He taught me everything he knew. He also discovered that the gem was magical in nature and would produce an electric charge when you perform physical force on it. By which I mean, when you hit it or something with it, stunning the target. Unfortunately, pretty much everyone here wears a gambeson and it kind of requires skin contact in order to work properly.” “Alright, I follow, but err, how does the thing itself work?” “like this!” She pressed a button on the handle which released a spring imbedded in the handle that forced the inner core to expand, expanding the size of the weapon to almost two feet, while small sparks of electricity began dancing across the surface of the now softly glowing gem. “Mind if I…?” “No please do.” she handed him the weapon. The dwarf gladly accepted and waved it around for a bit, feeling the weight and balance, while admiring the craftsmanship. It felt way too light for him, but he could see how it would be suitable for the gnome as it was nimble and yet surprisingly sturdy. “One final question.” “Aye?” “Why a wrench instead of a spear or an axe?” Sarah shrugged “Well, seeing my profession, it kind of seemed appropriate.”

 

Meanwhile, a couple yards ahead in the column, the leader of the company ranger-captain Martin Godwinsson and magus Roger Fellstorm had their own conversation “Tell me Roger, I know where you got the engineer from, being childhood friends and all, but what about the others? Those twins for example.” “Edward and Andrew? Why if I may ask?” the ranger shrugged “Oh you know, the commander getting to know his men and all of that nonsense. After all that’s what I’m apparently nowadays.” Roger nodded “Very well. You know the story of us growing up around greenwood hold after I finished my basic magic training at the Everglade academy of Wizardry and Druidry. Well the twins were also around those times and they both had a massive crush on Brightspark.” “Well, go on mate.” Roger chuckled “Sure, so that went on for a while with Sarah just being friendly to them, because that’s just who she is, but nothing more. After a while they wondered if she was seeing someone. They were correct. A few weeks later, they caught her making out.” He paused for a second and chuckled again “with the inkeeps daughter, which kind of explains why she wasn’t interested in the two of them. Needless to say, they were ever so slightly embarrassed, although it worked out in the end.”

 

And so, the chatter went on with Roger talking about the various friends and acquaintances whom he somehow had managed to convince to join on this endeavour: the minotaur Brar Goldhoof, the voslar Elly Chestnut, a cleric of Ishala (the goddess of healing and protection) and the bard Fiona Gregorsdottir. With Martin and later also Celdric and his companion, the elven druid Elahna Goodwind, listening, commenting and laughing about all the weird and silly stories.

 

Eventually though, it was Rogers turn to ask a question, something that most had been wondering for a while “Martin, if you don’t mind me asking, how in the seven hells of the abys are we actually going to do this? The middle marshes are quite large you know.” “I’ve given it some thoughts and in my mind the main problem is indeed going to find the problem.” “They probably have some base of operations.” Celdric continued “The problem is to find it. It’s most likely hidden deep within the woods.” “Therefore the solution is actually fairly simple, isn’t it?” this sentence drew a few curious glances from the three others “We’ll simply have to go to every tavern and inn in the area, get everybody in them as drunk as a centaur and eventually someone will spill something.” Martin joked. Celdric sighed and looked to Elahna in desperation “And I have to put with this almost every day.” She just smiled “I’m sure you’ll manage dear.” “sigh, Not you as well.” In response, Martin gave him a slap on the back “Mate, look at like this: You’ll continue to live happily ever after long after were gone, then you can have all the rest your little wood elven mind requires.” He winked “Provided that I won’t haunt you till your last dying breath, that is.” “Looking forward to it.” “Al shits and giggles aside though, I do think I have a reasonable strategy.” “In that case, feel free to enlighten us mate.” Roger said. “It’s quite simple: We’ll let ourselves get ambushed!” this startled the others ever so slightly and Celdric threw his hands in the air, fainting despair “Alright, he has finally lost it, he has actually become suicidal.” “Not per see matey.” Roger interrupted “I think the human just might have a point. We can’t just go on a wild goose chase around the forest. We simply can’t do that with our ninety-odd men. Which means they’ll have to come to us.” Martin nodded “Precisely, my plan is to take over one of the caravans and give it a… slightly different load, if get where I’m going. Then, we’ll simply wait until we are ‘ambushed’, which we will, at some point, although this time the caravan will be ready and” he nodded to the female elf “preferably warned.” The druid nodded “That I can do. Any preference to the type of bird I’ll shift into?” The ranger shrugged “Surprise me, just as it isn’t too conspicuous.” “Alright, note to self, no great eagles or dragon-hawks.” “You can turn into one of those.” She shrugged “Err, to be honest not really.” “Anyhow, when we’re ambushed, we’ll throw off the covers, slap them around for a bit and hopefully take some prisoners who can tell us where their little hidey-hole is located.” Celdric scratched his chin “Alright, perhaps you haven’t lost it completely after all. I can see it kind of working. One thing though: After we’ve captured those prisoners of yours, do you really think that they’re just going to betray their friends and hand over their booty just out of the goodness of their hearts? True, their bandits, but still.” “Point taken. I hope that can just bully hem into submission.” He sighed “Never been a man of torture, so I hope it won’t have to come to it.” “I can get that that.” Celdric said “It’s barbaric.” “Not to mention that it rarely works.” Elahna continued “They are generally in so much pain that they’re willing to make up just about anything, just to make the pain go away.” The others simply nodded. “Perhaps that I might be of service chaps.” Roger proposed. “One of you ever heard of a so-called potion of truth-telling?” “Can’t say that I have.” “Well, it basically does what it says on the tin: It makes it extremely difficult for someone not to tell the truth and nothing but the truth of anything that is asked of him.” Martin looked to the gnome with sudden interest. “That sounds like a rather convenient thing to possess. Why didn’t we know of this and more importantly, do you have one of those?” “Oh you know one of those old secrets, lost in the mists of time and for the other thing. No, I don’t have it, but I do know how to make it though. I should be able to get everything I need in Durindale. Some of the ingredients I require might be err, somewhat costly.” “Don’t worry about that Roger.” Martin tapped on a poach hanging from his belt “After all, the crown pays.” “Wonderful, that only leaves us with the simple matter of going to… whoever is in charge of the city at the moment and inform him of your master plan.” “Yeah… about that Roger, remember when William asked for me because he needed someone he could trust.” “Aye.” “Well he said he had some suspicions about the local leadership, or at the very least, someone in their surroundings. You see, the bandits appear to know when the valuable caravans come by and how well guarded they were.” “So he thinks that they have someone on the inside?” “Yes, so it would be best if we’re careful.” “Don’t worry mate, we’ll manage.” The gnome winked “After all, we always do… eventually.”

  

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Taken on January 1, 2000