In Search of Adventure - Part Three

 

Part Three 

The party rests again in both rooms 9 and 8, with Branwell and Messalina spending time together. She was not the first goblin, nor the first Pennyweight to 'make' it with a gnome. It helped pass the time and brought about more excitement than sitting about the room and having to ignore Lucille gathering dark magic in one corner, watching Warwick practice his sword stances in another corner, or trading brief words with the usually taciturn Topace of Specularum.

Branwell was buttoning his tunic with his back to Messalina as she adjusted the straps to the bandolier of mini quarrels that were strapped across her chest. She lit a cigarillo of Dreamfoil before turning to Branwell and offering him the same stick. "How fortunate there was an empty room for us."

"You weren't impressed by the talking statue," Branwell asked. The only other free room on the eastern wing was the storage where the shepherd sat in.

"I'm not one for audiences, Bran," Messalina sat next to Branwell and waited for him to hand the cigarillo back, "So did you enjoy your first time with a goblinette?" Messalina smirked, showing her sharp canines.

“It was my first time in general,” Branwell said, quietly.

Messalina blinked in surprise. The admission was unexpected, a little flattering, and a touch fearful as she did not know what the gnome expected of this. After a moment of silence, she said, “Did you… well… what did you think?”

Branwell thought for a moment and said, “I guess I… enjoyed it? You didn’t break any of my vows or anything. Earth clerics don’t have those kinds of expectations.”

“Well, that’s good, not that I was that concerned- that would have been on your end,” Messalina said, “I am glad you enjoyed it.” She found one of her hands resting on her knee next to his leg. “Were you planning to stay here tonight?”

“Well, safety in numbers,” Branwell said, “We have not completely secured this castle.”

“But, I mean, would you want to put your bed roll next to mine?”

Branwell looked over the room, nodding, “Did we want to use the ledge? If someone came in, they would not spot us up there.”

“That would be advantageous,” Messalina agreed, looking up and behind her at the ledge. A ledge just like it was large enough to fit a stirge nest. It would fit the pair comfortably, although they would need to lay their bedrolls together due to the constraints. The thought put a smile on Messalina’s face as she looked away from the blushing gnome.

---

Lucille Pangborn used the moment of downtime to run a brush through her hair. She narrowed her eyes at her semi-transparent reflection within the looking glass that she carried. Although the blood in her veins still ran warm, Lucille could sense that if she gave further into the beast within that she would become like the father she never knew. The bastard had bitten and fed from Lucille's mother while Miss... Lucille's mother was pregnant. Her gift from daddy, which also explained how Lucille easily connected with the power that dwelt within her grimoire, whose whispers gave her further access to her powers. The only reason Lucille signed on with Warwick Lancaster was that she could find company in Threshold and walk the streets with a lesser chance of harassment by the locals. All of that to say that when it came to roommates, Lucille felt she had drawn a short stick by being paired with Topace. The Topaz Dragonborn slept with his back to her.

“Topace? Topace? Are you awake?” Lucille asked.

“I was,” The Dragonborn grumbled from under his blanket.

“What would you have given to have a different roommate?” Lucille asked.

“At this point? A couple of silver so that I can sleep.”

“That’s the only reason you’d trade,” Lucille asked.

Toapce rolled over. His scales were more of a shade of orange copper over the bright yellows that were associated with his gem color. It was in the eyes where Topace readily displayed his origin as a member of the gemstone flight. Topace’s eyes were bright yellow, almost glowing in the dark as he looked up at Pangborn, “Am I nervous or concerned because of your fangs and pale skin? Not particularly, I’m a Dragonborn, not a human.”

“Never heard of a vampiric Dragonborn?”

“Never. I have heard of vampiric dragons, but they are rare,” Topace said.

“Are you from these parts?”

“My people are from Kanarsie in the mountains, but we moved to Specularum when I was young, right before the Grand Duchy was formed. Thus my name,” Topace said.

“No last name?”

“We very rarely have last names that are decipherable in the common tongue. I do have a last name, purely in draconic,” Topace said.

“Is your name even in Topace?”

“It is, but it sounds different in draconic,” Topace said, “Since you want to keep me up, how about you? Are you truly a Lucille Pangborn?”

“I am now, yes,” Lucille said, “I too am from Specularum, not Threshold.”

“Are there many like you in the city?”

“More in Glantri, but I would yes, there are enough that I eventually was born with my condition,” Lucille said, “The reasons I came north are my own, as I assume yours are too.”

“They are,” Topace said, “I am glad we respect the other’s privacy enough not to pry.”

---

Warwick took a steady drink of wine that Demelza had offered. Although she was not a member of the party, the group had decided to split the party for a long rest, which Warwick took as an opportunity to share rations with the cleric in her converted chambers. Demelza had welcomed the handsome fighter. He was a step above the middle aged and plain traders that Demelza had escorted to the seemingly abandoned castle.

“I noticed your cloak was sheared,” Demelza said, “You are actual nobility?”

Warwick nodded, “Lancastershire, to the south and west of here, north of the Black Eagle and right on the edge of the Halfling Five Shires. If my people were not so just, or willing to lend arms against Black Eagle rascals, monsters, and troublemakers there may have been a greater dispute with the Shirefolk.”

“And what brings you so far to the north?”

“Getting some experience out in the world,” Warwick said, “I can only earn a full cloak of my family by coming back with experience. That’s why I started this adventuring company in Specularum. We were following the road north and wound up in Threshold.”

“Performing eviction work for merchants,” Demelza noted.

“It’s a start. I’ve trained with the blade, but this is the first time I’ve ever swung it to kill.” Wariwick looked over to his greatsword set against the wall. The blade was converted from an executioner’s sword to a great razor, Crownrazor, Warwick’s name for it. He had told no one, keeping the name to himself.

“I plan to leave tomorrow and take those three merchants with me to Threshold. I wish you luck in clearing out the castle for your client, Warwick Lancaster,” Demelza said, “Shall I take the mule with me when I go?”

Warwick nodded, “But beware on the road. One of the bandits survived the fight. He could be out there looking for an opening, or at least get his mule back.”

Demelza knelt in front of Wariwick said, “Then I shall be the soul of caution, Sir.” She leaned forward and her mouth parted when her lips met his. The rest of the night continued on, giving them both a measure of peace.