#the broken cask

[blackseafoam]

Most recent drawings from my silly little fantasy/western story 🤠

[witchaj]

I’ve been playing this game for the last few days and it’s been really fun!

You create an Inn and an Innkeeper persona and roll to see what happens to them. Earn some money, get attacked by monsters, host a wizard convention, send a hero on a quest…There’s charts with random events you can roll for, or you can make it up as you go. I’ve been writing the events down in a journal format, but you don’t necessarily have to do that. All you really need is dice and a pencil!

[blackseafoam]

Illustrations for These Wells Are Dried part 2

[blackseafoam]

These Wells Are Dried

Part 1 of 2

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The Red Lantern is a story I rolled up with The Broken Cask self-guided rpg book. It’s about an inn on the edge of a barren wilderness, owned by a "grumpy on the outside, soft on the inside" half-elf (Nicco) and run by his staff (Arturo, a human ranger and Elleh, a gnome bard). I highly recommend the book! It is so fun, and it got my confidence way up for DMing and creative writing.

The setting is based on the high desert and shrubsteppe of Eastern Washington and Oregon, a very special place.

whumptober 2024. Day 04. sunburn l healing salve l heatstroke l "if my pain will stretch that far"

WC: 2445

SFW no warnings really just peril, bad decisions, and someone almost dies

The high plain’s summer race was brutally hot this year. So bad that many participants had scratched before the starting gun even sounded, despite having trained years for this moment.

Nicco knew his horse could handle it. Cataldo was made for this weather, and the two of them had braved worse together. If anything, the severe heat wave would give them a competitive edge. 

Each year, the Red Lantern Inn hosted the race as one of the checkpoints as well as the first aid headquarters. The famous location had been run by Nicco’s family for generations. The rustic wood paneled operation was self-sustaining, being this far out in the shrubsteppe wilderness. Despite the remote location, travelers came from all over for the experience. Not only was it a place to see riders coming and going, it boasted famously delectable dishes, had quaint lodging, and a haunting bottomless spring in the cellar with healing properties.

The spring had always been open to the public, until five years ago. Nicco had boarded up the cellar and magically sealed the door with no explanation. Since then the inn had lost a good chunk of business, making the High Plains Horse Derby a crucial opportunity to catch up on profits. 

The starting line was twenty miles east of the Red Lantern. Where the tall ponderosa pines on the edge of the nearest mountain range offered the last shelter any of the riders would see for days. From this spot the high desert stretched out below, rolling hills stretching out until they became flat plains far beyond.

Nicco trotted Cataldo in the nearby clearing, a race veterinarian standing by to assess the beast’s gait. A horn rang out. Ten minutes till start. The half elf secured his long black hair into a ponytail and checked his pack one last time. Water was a concern, but he knew this land well, probably better than any of the other racers. Several springs along the way should be his saving grace, so he skimped on water. His gaze drifted up to the other riders heading for the starting line, heavy water skins bouncing with every stride. Nicco would make do with just two. He knew this land, it had always cared for him, and he for it. It was a risk, but calculated. 

Riders stood abreast at the line drawn in the dirt at their feet. The fresh scent of pine needles crunching under hoof perfumed the air along with the excitement and adrenaline of three dozen horses and three dozen riders. Nico patted Cataldo’s already sweating neck, a confident smirk gracing his face as he made eye contact with the rider next to him, who was ogling at Nicco’s lack of waterskins. 

The chatter grew more quiet as the three minute flag holder ran across the field.

The race marshall began the count down.

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT…”

Nicco ground the balls of his feet into the stirrups, heels down.

“...SEVEN, SIX, FIVE…”

He choked up on the reins and flexed his elbows.

“...FOUR, THREE…”

He shook a stray hair out of his face.

“TWO”

Breathe in.

“ONE”

Breathe out.

BANG. The starting gun went and so did thirty six horses. In an instant, Nicco positioned himself up in the saddle, taking his rear off the leather. As everyone around him whipped and kicked, he simply gave Cataldo the space to do what he did best. 

Run.

-

“He’s here!” Arturo leaned out the window as he watched the telltale dust cloud of a group of riders nearing. They were just dark shapes, peeking in and out of view as they traversed the low hills and short sage bushes. Elleh put down the dish she was cleaning and ran to the door. The two of them jogged to the checkpoint station to cheer for their boss. As they neared they saw his waterskins were shriveled, completely empty, his face was flushed red. 

“Nicco are you okay?” Elleh was immediately concerned. 

“Quite fine, Elleh.” He dismounted as the race volunteer signed him in. He leaned closer to her and Arturo “First spring was dry, but it was the smaller of the three.” He said in a hoarse whisper, his lips were severely cracked already. “The next one will have water."

Arturo hummed doubtfully “We have extra water bladders, Ni–”

“NO.” Nicco cut him off. “If you help me I’ll be disqualified, remember? I’ll just refill here, and the next spring is 10 miles away.” He stormed off, leading Cataldo to a cooling off station. Arturo cast Elleh a worried glance, she shrugged and went back inside. When Nicco was cranky AND set on an idea, there would be no convincing him otherwise. 

-

The next spring was dry. 

Nicco tried digging into the cracked earth but it was no use, the deep-rooted plants bordering the basin had already begun to whither and drop their seeds. He bit his thumbnail as he decided what to do next, he looked over at Cataldo. The horse was absolutely drenched in sweat, and they still had a long way to go. He weighed his remaining water in his hands. Surely the next spring, the largest one will have water. With a decisive nod he lowered his hand and mounted again. 

The heat had become even more unbearable as the day wore on. It made Nicco feel like he were fermenting from the inside, sticky sweat clinging to every inch of his skin, nausea creeping up with every stride of his mount.

-

Seven miles further, with 25 more to go. Nicco left the marked trail once more, to find his secret spring. He followed a small gravel line to a low spot behind a hill, anxiously leaning forward to see what awaited. 

A basin of dust. 

Panic immediately rose in the half-elf’s throat. He most certainly was not going to make it to the finish line, that much he could decide right then and there. He had gambled and lost, but what was worse is that Cataldo was an equal in these consequences. He dismounted, wringing his hands and looking at his steed. Taldo probably looked better off than he did. Being a thin-blooded desert horse, he could withstand the lack of water if Nicco was careful. 

He had already given all of his water to the horse on the way here, with a pinch of salt for electrolytes, but Nicco hadn’t had anything to drink but one sip on his way to the second spring. He scratched at his beard nervously one last time, still looking around at the ground as if water would spontaneously erupt out of the earth. There was only one thing to do, head back as efficiently as possible. The rider undid his top wrap. He would share his sun protection with his horse to hopefully save on sweating. Upon remounting, he tucked one end of the fabric into the browband of the bridle, between Taldo’s freckled ears. Then he took the rest of the fabric and tucked it into his belt, creating something of an umbrella for the nag’s neck. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do. 

Nicco chirped and squeezed his legs ever so slightly, sending Cataldo into a trot, the most energy efficient way home. Immediately, he could feel the heat of the early afternoon sun begin to prickle his exposed chest, shoulders, and back.

-

A cowbell rang on the west corner of the inn, the cooling station volunteer had been instructed to ring it upon anyone returning to the checkpoint, alerting the staff and medics to prepare for something to potentially be wrong. 

Elleh and Arturo, in the middle of serving food, hurried to the windows along with most of the guests. The cowbell hardly ever went off, but this was the third time they had heard it today, two other riders had scratched out of caution for the heat just an hour ago.

“Can you see the rider?” short-statured Elleh couldn’t see past the crowd, and began to make for the door.

Arturo squinted and craned his neck, “It’s Nicco.” He looked back at her with wide worried eyes. Elleh burst out the door.

Elleh was concerned by Nicco’s sun-baked face before, now she was horrified. Nicco swayed on the saddle as he came in, eyes half-lidded and red, red like the rest of his blistering skin. His black hair was plastered to his forehead, neck, and shoulders with sweat. He swayed harder as he slowed Cataldo to a walk, leaning forward and gripping the front of the saddle, his wrap top that had been protecting the horse’s neck fluttered to the ground. The tiny gnome rushed toward the pair “NICCO!” Arturo was right behind her. The station medic was already on the way as well, and the three of them helped Nicco down. 

“All dry.” Nicco huffed as Arturo supported him, the half-elf’s hand still gripping the saddle. His skin looked an awful lot like the rotisseried pheasants they served in the winter time, blistered and charred deep red.

“Damn it Nicco…” Arturo began to pull him away. 

“No… Can’t leave… Dissqualiff’d” Nicco slurred as he gripped the saddle harder. 

“Boss, your race is over.” Arturo said gently. “We have to go inside, now.” The burly man could feel heat radiating off Nicco’s body like a cast iron pan. He reached out and broke Nicco’s grasp on the saddle. He muttered and protested the whole way to the aid tent as Elleh hurried the horse to the shaded stables.

The race medics had already been prepared for dehydration, heatstroke, and sunburn as the number one concern of the day, but did not expect to see a case this bad. Nicco had been sick, twice, in the short walk to the tent, in between incoherent complainings. Arturo was basically dragging him by the time they got him to a cot, and deposited his lanky figure onto the frame like a dead fish. 

-

Nicco’s blank mind didn’t even try to figure out where he was when his eyes squinted open at the gently rustling canvas ceiling of the tent. He had been drugged by an angry customer once, and that was the first thing his mind went to as he felt like his whole body was made of fog. Like how he imagined performing “misty step” would feel, if he knew any magic. He heard a gentle scratching sound above his head, he tried looking up to see, the cold rag on his neck sliding off. A tiny arm caught it before it tumbled off the cot, and placed it back in its place. Elleh’s rosy-cheeked face came in to view, tight with worry, she set her sketchbook on the stool she’d been sitting on and kneeled next to her boss. Her friend. His eyes started to close again.

“Nicco.” She whispered, she would shake his shoulder, but it was the worst burnt part of him and covered in a strange mint green salve. Instead she reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Nicco.” She said a bit louder. 

His eyes opened a little wider now. Some of the fog had lifted and he could comprehend more of the space now. The little gnome was grabbing his hand, it felt nice. He squeezed it back weakly. He took stock of his surroundings, he was on a hammock-like cot, with naught covering him but his underpants and a few cold wet rags draped over him strategically. Several potions and a canteen sat on an empty stool by his feet. 

“It’s bad Nicco.” Elleh frowned. She was never this serious, something was very wrong. “You almost died.” She barely choked out the words while her eyes went glassy. Nicco was still confused, why was she so upset? He hadn’t seen her cry since the first day he’d met her. Elleh was supposed to be the uplifting one. 

“Cataldo…” Were Nicco’s only muttered words in response. 

A flash of frustration heated Elleh’s sorrowful expression. “Your horse is fine Nicco, you gave him all of your water!” She shook her head, then got serious again. 

She hesitated. “Nicco… you have to unlock the cellar. The medics… they said you could have permanent internal damage.” 

His eyes shot up at her with that all too familiar stubborn look. He shook his head as much as he could before he was too dizzy after two shakes. 

“Whatever… whatever it is, Nicco. Whatever it is you won’t talk about. It isn’t worth this. Please, you’re not thinking clearly. Just tell me how to open it. You could die.” She was begging now, having pulled his hand to her chest and squeezing it even tighter. “Just this one time, then we can lo–” She stopped talking when his dark eyes locked with hers, his cracked lips parted to speak. Nicco rolled over and was sick on the ground at the bard’s feet. Elleh released his hand to grab a nearby bucket, patting her boss on the back as the only secrets he let out were what he had for breakfast that morning. 

-

Nicco fought the severe burns and inflammation for days after, the main medic stayed long overdue her contract to tend to him. Arturo offered to call in someone else so she could get home, but she declined, she had to see the job through. A cleric happened to be passing through the second day and treated the innkeeper to the best of his abilities. Nicco fully woke up the next day, to his caring employees again begging him to open the cellar so he could use the healing waters. He simply shook his head, voice too hoarse to respond. 

Once the boss was semi-ambulatory, the medic left, and he sulked around the inn like a lost ghost. Elleh and Arturo constantly fussed over him to stop moving around. He insisted at least to sit in the kitchen to oversee things, but never lasted long. It was only when he was snoring like a bugbear in his seat that Arturo would force him to go to bed. Nicco was unusually quiet for weeks after, clearly hiding his pain from his doting employees, who were also his closest friends. He laid in bed and tears ran down his blistered cheeks once he was alone. They cared so much for him, care he in no way deserved. He could feel his body not working like it should, the horrifyingly abstract wrongness of it. The magical healing of the cellar pool could help immensely… NO. He buried the idea as quickly as it sprouted. No one could go down there ever again. He wasn’t even sure if he could remember how to break the magical seal anyway. He would take his suffering as long as he could, would he die for his secret? Undecided. He drifted off to sleep. 

--

Author's Note:

I've been so excited to share this! I was struggling to come up with an actual story for these characters until I started writing for this prompt. The second part will show up later for whumptober :)

I just gave it a final edit and I'm so glad I wrote this when it was actually hot out because I would never have thought of some of the descriptions otherwise. I've never actually gotten heatstroke but came close when I went to Pompeii in August a few years ago, that place is like a huge brick oven that is also a maze (but also full of really cool stuff). I fell asleep in the taxi home and woke up on the Airbnb couch, whoops! Stay hydrated, gamers.

[blackseafoam]

Someone's Out There

previous WC: 1089 The Red Lantern is an Inn on the edge of the shrubsteppe wilderness. A string of bad happenings over the last few weeks have left the staff feeling strung out and fragile. Rosco has finally come to her senses after someone has been leaving out food in her ravine. Arturo discovers something that he tried to forget. Whumptober 2024. Day 19. BLOOD TRAIL abandoned cabin | one way out | "Is there anybody alive out there?"

Rosco leaned against her makeshift bed of dried grasses on the rock platform in the back of the cave. She woke slowly as the morning light seeped in from the cave entrance she stirred. 

Her eyes opened, finding that she was thinking clearly. A sensation she had been missing for weeks? Months?

She looked at the state of her surroundings, the wet interior of the cave was anything but homey. She shivered. Out of routine, she stood and went to the small spring against the adjacent wall for a drink. When she looked at the waters, she realized they were nearly black with tannins. Not necessarily poisonous. The previously dormant scientific part of her mind analyzed the pool. But I have no idea what might be in there. 

Then she remembered. The cache.

Her stomach growled. 

Every other morning since she’d seen that other at the entrance of her cave, of which there had been three, there’d been an assortment of food and a flask of fresh water left by the trickling creek. A few times, she’d had to fight vermin off her cache, so she’d been waking earlier and earlier to intercept the resource. Until today, she never wondered just who may have been leaving her the food. Until today, she hadn’t awoken this early to catch the mysterious donator. 

The tall half-orc stood to her full height and walked out of the cave, having to support herself on the wall as her weakened and slight frame could barely hold her up. 

The other.

He stood there, in that same cloak as before, the only difference being that his  arm was bound in a sling. She winced internally as she remembered hitting him with a rock days, maybe weeks earlier. Time had passed in an odd way, slipping through her mental fingers like sand, until today. 

The half-elf’s dark eye’s widened, he deposited the food on the ground in the usual spot and took several hurried steps backwards, his gaze never leaving her. “I’m just leaving this here, I’ll be going now.” He spoke in a calm tone, hands raised defensively, as he began to turn to walk back out of the ravine. 

“Wait.” Rosco spoke in a hoarse voice she didn’t recognize, but he was already gone, quickly disappearing over the top of the hill. She followed, panting with the effort.

When she got to the top there was no sign of him. She groaned in defeat, kicking at the earth, which was still stained with lines of boar’s blood. The trail of blood from those few nights ago when she had clubbed that other with a rock, over a meal that she got only a few bites of before a pack of wolves had fought her for it, and won. 

That man who had downed the boar. He was young. She’d attacked him over his kill, given him no warning, no fair fight. How could she have been capable of such a thing? 

Guilt wracked her. She shuddered at the intense memory, pushing it away, and went down to the pile of food to eat it all before it attracted any wildlife. 

Arturo sat ponderously in the pasture behind The Red Lantern, the dry grass that had been killed by the unusually hot summer prickled through even his thick work pants. A timid ball of fur cowered in his lap as several horses and a donkey approached curiously.

Boggis was the name the crew had collecitvely chosen for the little guy, Elleh had blurted it out and it stuck. The pup was quiet and sweet, but timid. At such a tender age, it was best to get him used to all sorts of situations, like the snouts of four massive beasts being shoved into his personal space.

Boggis climbed up Arturo's stomach and into his arms, ears back and growling. The hunter held the little dog close but let the horses continue to sniff the questionable little beast. Boggis's own inquisitiion eventually got the better of him as he turned around to sniff the equines back, and his little nub of a tail began to wag furiously.

"There you go." Turo smiled, slowly getting up and setting the pup down. Even though he rose as slowly as he could, the dizziness of his still-healing head threatened to knock him off balance.

Boggis didn't stray from between his feet as he casually walked around the huge pasture. That's when he noticed their pony, Vigno, standing by the old toolshed.

It was quite out of character for the little brown beast to stray from the herd. Arturo neared to investigate, and noticed the footprints.

Bare foot prints.

Arturo opened the door of the shed, slowly, unbreathing. He peered through the opening, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Inside was a tall figure, leaning against the wall.

No. Not a tall figure.

The tall figure. The fangs. The torn clothing.

Turo cried out in alarm as the feeling of a memory rushed back to him. He wasn't sure why, but his entire body flooded with fear as he took in the sight.

He ran.

Arturo ran with such panic that the horses kicked out in alarm and ran toward the barn. Boggis yapped at his heels anxiously. The hunter's vision started to go dark around the edges, and he remembered Elleh scolding him about getting too excited while he was still healing. But every cell in his body was screaming at him to flee.

Rosco gasped at the sight of someone entering her shelter. It had taken her all day to find this place, and felt lucky to have a dark hidden alcove to plan her next move. The last thing she thought was that someone would immediately come snooping around an old toolshed in the back of a dusty horse pasture.

The figure fled before she could even register who, or what, it was.

"Wait!" She reached out, and struggled to her feet. She followed.

By the time she exited the shed she saw him slumped down on all fours, quickened breath wracking his whole body. He hadn't made it far. A little dog cowered against his leg as she approached. She gave a somewhat wide berth and rounded to face him.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry I scared you I..."

The kid looked up at her, one hand pressed against his brow. His eyes widened in pure terror before the light left them and he passed out right there in the dirt.

[blackseafoam]

A Bundle

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WC: 1012 Nicco is late from his trip to the market, but it's okay because he has a consolation surprise for Elleh and Arturo. No warnings except very sappy, very family feels, wholesome cheese.

whumptober 2024. day 18. revenge l unreliable narrator l loss of identity l "I see what's mine and take it"

The night was clear, but the chill of autumn had taken firm hold of every air particle, freezing Nicco’s throat as he rode home on the dusty road. Cataldo’s wide nostrils expelled fog clouds like an angry dragon as he trotted with his usual stallion-fervor. 

This market trip had been taxing on his body, still suppressed by his incident earlier in the summer. The very thought of changing into his silk pajamas and curling up in bed was almost too much to bear as he tightened his wool cape around his shoulders, being careful not to jostle a small bundle cradled in his elbow. Rest would have to come later, he had a few things to do before then.

“I just don’t feel like myself.” Nicco had overheard Arturo confiding in Elleh about a week ago, over a late game of reversi in the vacated common room of the inn. “I can’t even read a book anymore without getting lost in the words." Were there tears in his voice?

"I hear you." Elleh placed a piece on the game board. "Everything will be okay, and even if it isn't, that's okay too."

Nicco decided to give them the privacy of their emotional conversation and retreated to his quarters. He’d heard enough though. His heart warmed with all the care he held for his committed staff, his kids. 

While Elleh had bounced back remarkably quickly from her burns, Turo’s recovery was not nearly as straightforward. He’d seemed better several days after, almost back to his old self after taking a whole two days to actually rest of his own volition. Elleh and Nicco had been so proud of him.

The next day he was humming in the kitchen while prepping breakfast, quietly laughing at Elleh’s impromptu slam poetry about whatever food she was cooking. Nicco sat at his own prep station, chopping fruit, when he noticed something off.

Arturo at least had the sense to set his knife down as he wobbled, leaning on the counter, an unfortunately familiar sight by now. The headaches, nausea, and dizziness had come back in full force. 

Frustrated tears burned behind Arturo’s eyes. Here he was, having a wonderful morning, and now this. Before Elleh or Nicco could fuss over him, he stumbled out of the kitchen while fumbling with his apron, flinging it on the ground as he stomped up the stairs. Nicco and Elleh looked at each other, shocked worry plastered across their faces, tears welling in Elleh’s eyes. 

These two damn kids. They were worth everything. 

Nicco sniffed back a sob as he rounded the last hillock and saw the lanterns of his inn illuminating the night. Stars hanging above in a canopy of sweet sky tears. The bundle in his arm was starting to feel heavy, he hefted it to the space in the saddle between his legs as he slowed Cataldo into the stables. 

He unsaddled his horse and gave him a groom and his grain for the night. The little lump had been wrapped up in his cloak on the stable floor. He took it up in his arms and walked toward the inn.

It was time for revenge. Revenge for the months of doting love these two feral creatures had given him. After he’d scraped them out of the wilderness when they’d had nowhere else to go. Revenge for the tough love Elleh was forced to instill when Nicco resisted what was good for him as he recovered from his brush with death. Revenge for the weeks that Arturo kept the lights on and everyone fed as Nicco could do nothing but feel like his body was shutting down. 

Revenge neatly packaged in the palms of his hands as he approached the side door, next to the bottom of the stairs, in the hall before the kitchen. 

Elleh huffed with relief as Nicco entered the kitchen. The place looked spotless, and his kids were folding linens on the floor. “THERE you are. I hope whatever you found at the market was worth you being this late.” She folded a napkin with a curt whip before smoothing it on the pile next to her. 

“Have the guests all turned in?” Nicco tried his best to act casual as the bundle in his hands began to squirm inside his cloak. 

Arturo nodded, glancing at Nicco before focusing back on folding a table runner. He did a double take and scrutinized the half-elf more closely, squinting at what was in his arms. 

“I hope that’s the corn and wild rice we ordered.” Elleh would have put a hand on her hip if it were not otherwise occupied. 

“Nope.” Nicco’s smile broke open, his cheeks and eyes creasing with delight as he kneeled and unfurled the fabric.

And deposited a small creature on the floor.

It looked around sleepily, disoriented and shy, tail between his legs. 

Elleh and Arturo gasped in unison. 

“Whose puppy is that?” Elleh was too stunned to even stand up.

“Ours.” Nicco’s smile widened, his wrinkles getting impossibly deeper. Nicco had hoped the little dog would go bounding to greet Arturo and Elleh, but the little thing shivered on the floor. The innkeeper took it up and held it out to Arturo. The hunter wordlessly took the squirming creature and gently held it to his chest. His hand was nearly the same size of the puppy as he stroked its gray-tan fur and scratched behind it’s little nub-ears. He sobbed a laugh and grinned. 

“He’s perfect.” Elleh could barely contain her excitement as she tried to not spook the frail thing. The pup nestled it’s head into the crook of Arturo’s arm and breathed a huge sigh for such a little body. 

“Okay, but you still got the corn and wild rice right?” 

Nicco and Arturo broke into a laugh, Elleh couldn’t help but join in, despite how serious she was about her ingredients. They laughed quietly and spoke in hushed tones long into the night as the newest staff member of The Red Lantern settled quietly into Arturo’s lap. 

[blackseafoam]

Cleanse Your Worry

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Arturo is still struggling, Elleh is worried, Nicco deals with the consequences of playing dodgeball with a deranged half-orc. WC: 1129

whumptober 2024. day 13. team as a family l familial curse l multiple shumpees l "death will do us part"

The Red Lantern Inn glowed with soft warm light. The only patrons were a small group of traveling monks, and a pair whose look made their dubious line of work quite apparent. The staff were down to two tonight, and they had no fresh meat, so they prepped a simple vegetable stew to serve. 

“Arturo, you need to go to bed.” The gnome scolded as she stood on her stool at the kitchen hearth, carefully stirring the stew in a huge iron pot suspended over the flame. 

“‘M fine.” Arturo braced himself on the counter nearby, riding out a sickening wave of dizziness, waiting for the inevitable headache to set in. “Almost done.” He spoke through gritted teeth. Squinting down at the half chopped zucchini before him. 

“Nicco’s gonna be back any second, I don’t need your help.” She raised the pot on its chain to simmer, wincing a bit as the scar tissue in her arm pulled. “Come on.” She tutted at him as she pulled at his apron. “Dude, you look like garbage, go upstairs right now.” Tough love was going to be the only thing that was going to work in this scenario.

“Okay…” The dizziness lessened and Arturo straightened, fatigue setting in. Elleh escorted him to his bedroom. He leaned on the wall the entire way. 

The hunter sat down on his bed unsteadily. “I only just woke up like three hours ago.” He complained, wiping a palm over his face. Elleh poured him a mug of water from the pitcher and handed it to him, hopping up on the bed next to him with a sigh. 

“Well somebody used your head as a church bell, it’s going to take time to heal. You’re not doing yourself any favors by overdoing it.” She patted his elbow as he took a drink. “Remember how frustrating it was for us when Nicco would refuse to rest after his accident? Please don’t make me go through that again... I can’t take it.” She sniffed. 

Arturo glanced down at her, lowering the mug. Elleh wiped a tear away from her cheek. “I’m sorry.” His hand found her shoulder. 

“Please, help us by being patient with yourself. Please.” She swiped at another tear like it was a bothersome gnat, then leaned into Arturo’s side with another sigh. “These past few months sure have sucked.” She flexed her wrist, the scar tissue creaking in her skin. 

“Hasn’t been all bad.” Turo hummed. A savory aroma had wafted up the stairs, down the hallway, and into the room.

“I guess so.” Elleh straightened. “I better go serve that stew. I’ll bring you a bowl.” 

Arturo laid down gingerly, pinching at his forehead, as Elleh trotted out the door.  “El?”

“Yeah?”

“Just, leave the door open please.”

“Sure.”

Arturo breathed through his throbbing headache, the humming voices echoing up from the common area distracted him enough to finally fall asleep.

Nicco entered the inn as Elleh doled out wooden bowls to the patrons. He calmly greeted his guests, then caught the gnome’s gaze and nodded toward the kitchen. 

Elleh rushed behind the bar. “Did you find anything?” She wasted no time with pleasantries. 

“I did. Um…” Nicco had to gather his thoughts. “There’s a… woman living in the ravine. She’s very hungry, and very aggressive.” He unpinned his cloak and rolled his shoulder, wincing. “Beaned me with a rock pretty good."

Elleh made a face, she gestured to the chair that had become Nicco’s sit-down prep station. The half-elf obeyed and sat down, pulling down the shoulder of his deel. 

“So do you think she’s like, a substance user or something?” Elleh pulled the fabric down and looked at Nicco’s shoulder. 

Nicco shook his head. “No, she… she just seemed scared. I don't know how much longer she's going to last down there.

“Where did she come from? How have we never seen her before?”

“Maybe we leave some food down there tomorrow. But we should all stay away from that area for the time being. Even in her state, she’s strong as hell, you should’ve seen the way she threw those rocks.” He winced and looked at his shoulder. He could already tell that it was going to be a nasty bruise. “It’s fine, I can move my arm, it just hurts like a bitch.” 

“Well, you probably shouldn’t move it then.”

“Thank you Dr. Harfvestii.” 

“You’re welcome.” She tilted her head in mock haughtiness. “I’m serious though. Actually I’m so serious that I’m going to make you wear this.”

She went to the table linens and pulled out a woven runner, tying it over Nicco’s uninjured shoulder as a makeshift sling. “Since I know you’re not going to rest yet, you’re going to wear that. That’s our compromise.” 

“Doesn’t compromise usually mean the other party gets a say in it?”

“Not when the compromiser already knows what the compromisee is thinking.” Elleh asserted. 

Nicco emerged from the kitchen to see one of the monks sitting at the bar, an odd sight. He was a young human, no more than 17 years old, with a shaved head and blue woolen robes. “Need something?” Nicco quickly settled into his customer service persona.

“I sense something’s wrong, is everything alright?” He glanced at the innkeeper’s immobilized arm.

The mercenaries nearby cast a glance over, but kept their hushed conversation going. 

Nicco let out an amused huff. “You must be the perceptive one.” He crossed his arms.  “My staff and I have had a rough go of it lately.”

“How so?”

“Well, it started during the High Plains race, and just went downhill from there.” Nicco continued on for a while, sharing way more than his character usually allowed. Something about this young man put him at ease. He covered his heatstroke, the fight with the Dragonborn (while leaving out any mention of a magical well), and all the way up to Arturo’s episode

“Bad things will pass. Good things will pass. What’s important is that these things are behind you, and you have each other.” 

Nicco nodded, huffing in agreement while looking at the floor. 

“Bad luck is one thing, but the worst thing you can do in this situation is let the anxiety ferment. You must cleanse your worry as often as you can. If you don’t, it will become a curse.”

Nicco nodded in agreement, but with a slightly confused look behind his eyes. 

The group of monks got up to retire to their rooms, and the young monk got up and followed them without another word.

Cleanse my worry? What does that even mean? Nicco shook his head and went back to the kitchen to help Elleh clean. 

[thewordpit]

The Bronze Marigold

Session 1 (part 2)

About and hour passed before Rayla barreled through the door. Bundled in furs and carrying a small gutted deer across her back, Folen had almost mistaken her for some blood thirsty beast lumbering into the pub.

“Gods Rayla! You scared the shit out of me. Why the hells didn’t you use the kitchen door?” 

“This one was closer, plus it was empty so why not?” 

“You didn’t know it was empty…”

“Cold enough to kill you out there far-goer, no ones out looking for drinks.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that Rayla, and the guests could’ve come downstairs.”

“Pshhh, that lots too good to eat here. They’re just here looking for rich folks to stop by.” 

“Thank you Rayla, always a pleasure.” 

She snorted and hauled the deer carcass across the pub and pushed through the kitchen doors. A few minutes passed and she reappeared, the furs and dead deer discarded. Folen kicked out the chair across from him and she sat, focusing on him with her shimmering grey eyes. They always fascinated him, the only give away to those around her that she was a skin changer. 

“Where’s Rudgren?”

“Sleeping, he’s taking the rest of the day off.”

Rayla raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair waiting for an explanation. 

“A minor dispute with the guests upstairs. A miscommunication really. I’m sure they’ve already forgotten about it.” 

“He’s gotta sleep off a miscommunication?”

“No, he’s sleeping off a blow to the head. The way I see it, we pretend it never happened and hopefully they will be happy to do the same.”

“That lot? I doubt it. Seems like a bunch of posh assholes if ya ask me.”

“I didn’t Rayla. And I don’t plan to so please, lets just get through the rest of this day as smoothly as possible. Can you handle the bar tonight?”

“Sure thing Folen.” 

Folen pushed back his chair and stood right as the small bell by the door rang out again. A small halfling woman made her way through the door and looked around at the empty pub. Folen’s hands twitched at the sight of her, the money she owed him immediately coming to the forefront of his mind. She turned her gaze to him and he offered up a nod and something between a sneer and a smile. 

“Folen! Cold as the frozen wastes out there, never been happier to see this ol shack.”

Rayla snorted and side eyed Folen as he took in the comment. 

“My dear Faff, how wonderful to see you. What bring you all the way out here in such dismal weather?”

“Prospects my dear boy! Prospects!”

“Ah of course, how foolish of me. Why else would the illustrious Faff grace us with her presence.”

“Folen I can hear that snide tone in your voice. Sour mood on account of the lack of patrons?”

“Haha…yes i suppose so. One does need money to run an inn and so one needs patrons…paying patrons.”

Folen mumbled the last comment but Faff heard him nonetheless, she always had a keen ear for things not meant for her. She huffed and put her hands on her hips.

“Well I had hoped to come here and find someone eager for some coin and glory…but ain’t a soul to be seen.” 

“Not sure what ya mean Faff, ol Folen is always eager for coin and glory.”

Folen glared at Rayla as she stood and stretched, winking at Folen before making her way over to the bar. Faff eyed him with an obvious smuggniss that irked the hell out of him. 

“So Folen, you interested?” 

“I want to hear what it is you are offering before I say yes.”

“Smart I suppose, wouldn’t want to get in over your head. Dangerous out there for an innkeeper.”

Folen took a deep breath and flashed her a wide smile, pulling himself out a chair and gesturing for her to take a seat. Faff sauntered over and seated herself across from him, reaching into her bag and retrieving a folded piece of parchment. She tossed it onto the table and watch as Folen opened and read it. 

“So, what do you think? Think you’re up for it? I know you’re real busy around here and all but ya might get something worthwhile from it.”

“A frogfolf shaman…I didn’t realize they came out in weather like this. Their skin doesn’t freeze?”

“Well ya can go and have a look for yourself if ya don’t believe me. Damn thing is making quite the mess over by Quadspear Lake.”

“Quadspear. That’s not that far from here, maybe an hour or two. I mean how hard can it be right?”

“Quite difficult I would imagine. The frogfolk are a nasty bunch.”

“Yes, well…yes. I’ll do it.”

“Oh my how exciting, Folen the Far-Goer off to defeat the wretched shaman!”

Folen groaned and rolled his eyes as he stood up and made his way towards the worker’s quarters. After he disappeared around the corner Faff spun in her seat to face Rayla and grinned. 

“Bet ya four gold he comes back in a box.”

Rayla smirked and shook her head.

“Ya already owe Folen four gold, I ain’t about to double it. And ya underestimate him ya know. He’s a lot tougher than he lets on.”

Faff scoffed, standing up and making her way over to the bar. She climbed up onto one of the stools and raised an eyebrow at Rayla. 

“I mean it. Tough as an orc and tricky as a kobold. You’ll see.”

Faff was about to respond when Folen came back around the corner carrying his backpack and an ornatley carved wooden staff. Rayla looked him up and down. 

“You’re going out in that? Folen is freezing outside.”

“This jacket is charmed Rayla. It’ll keep me just as warm as those mangey furs you drape yourself in.”

“Suit yourself boss. Good luck.” 

“Yes, good luck Folen.”

“Not so much as a sip until that tab is paid, clear?”

“Crystal.”

Faff rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively at him as he made his way to the door. He sighed and nodded to Rayla before opening the door and heading out into the cold.