Dragon's Claw

Helm's Deep: Through the Maw and into the Mall

We have no time for your silly questions. We’re here to shop.

Game Date: 9/23/09

As the haze of battle cleared on the bridge, a breathless, bloodied and exhausted party watched as the corpse of the monolithic beggar was swept swiftly downstream. Barely able to stand, we began the slow process of making our way to Wolf’s Deep. Knowing our melee had been witnessed by those on the walls, we attempted to collect ourselves and maintain as much composure as our battered bodies would allow. Sebastian was so tired, the thought alone of shifting out of cat form nearly felled him.

Half an hour and a few dozen switchbacks later, we were before the gates themselves. The mountain city sat beside the northern pass, amply controlling it’s traffic. It’s high walls were of a mystically seamless construction. Which could only mean one origin of design – Dragonborn. The entrance itself was a stories high wolf’s head. It’s gated tongue, sharp teeth and assorted other nastiness a sure means of defense.

Our passage through these gates was shortly arrested by a dozen liveried guardsmen and their dragonborn lieutenant. Horatio engaged in some Draconic banter, leaving us in the dark as to it’s contents but not to it’s result. The lieutenant would not allow us to pass without further details as to our background and on the recent conflagration on the bridge.

After some casual parlay, we knew our short answers would not be sufficient enough to allow us entrance. For the kindness of comfort and drink, Dex offered a more detailed explanation. The lieutenant acceded and showed us to the guard house where drinks were proffered and our weary asses seated.

The Lieutenant introduced himself as M’Mora (how’s that for creative fantasy spelling?!). He had been roused by his guards due to some strange goings on at the bridge. The reports came in, one more fantastic than the next. He wanted answers. From us.

Dex attempted to explain how the three weary adventures and their pet panther (lying under the table) had come to a dawn battle at his doorstep. While not lying, he gave a simpler, and in his own words more “succinct,” version of the party’s story.

After crossing the mountains, they had stumbled across an ancient Dragonborn tower, battled shadows escaping from a portal to darkness and inadvertently destroyed said portal. Sadly, one of their number was slain in the fighting and they had been seeking revenge ever since. This revenge had brought them to a second tower. From there they had picked up the trail of a man they felt was responsible. They tracked him to the bridge and engaged him and his newly-created giant minion. Sadly, he escaped. Into thin air.

It was a simple revenge tale. No more. No Less.

Whether he bought it or not (it was a slice of the truth, after all!), his continued questioning was curtailed by Dex’s insistence that there was no further story to tell. He reluctantly bid us farewell and recommended an inn. And of course, to stay out of trouble.

The sights, smells and bustle of the city brought Dex right back home. Instincts perked back up again. Sebastian for his part, noticed an abundance of something odd. Dogs. Tons of dogs. Not mongrels scrounging in packs. These were trained and well-behaved. An alley was found and soon our scruffy panther became a well-heeled canine.

We proceeded to the main square (in reality a hexagon, you bloody geometrically-challenged folk) and secured a trio of rooms at the previously recommended, Bruised Grape. Everything about it screamed “honest.” Across the way sat none other than a large version of our familiar Dragonborn tower. This however, had a compliment of city watch both in and out. Inquiry and investigation would have to wait. Extended rests were in order for the participants of the bridge battle and a little reconnaissance for our rogue, Erevis.

Later, Erevis, as he was monetarily buttering up our portly innkeep, was joined in the common room by his recovering companions and their new pet house cat. He was able to glean a few interesting tidbits from our host. The Mining Guild was unhappy, but what can you expect from those dwarves. Also, the city watch was on edge. Their normal to and fro with the local orc bands had dwindled to nothing and for the past four to five months had been under the new leadership one Dragonborn lieutenant. Hmm.

Our drinking done, we headed down the street past shops specializing in local finery. A quick jaunt into an alley returned us to four as Sebastian shifted back to elf form. We ended up before a squat, round little tower. The sign outside read “Magic.” How aptly put.

Inside we were greeted by a squeeky clean, sloth of a man. Some deft negotiating by Sebastian netted us a one gold to one gold trade in on the sale of any items we decided to part with. In addition, the man would take every one of our Dragonborn coins off of us for 250 gold apiece. Then, we handed him our wishlist…

Annalist’s Note: Once we are magically satiated, might I suggest paying for the use of a fast steed to help in the retrieval our Hoop?



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