Simon's Big Adventure
Dr. Simon Twoorb relaxed into his well-apportioned booth and smiled at Megan, the server, as she dropped off his watered-down wine. She smiled back sweetly and bounced happily off to the next table. She appeared to be a human woman of around 20 or so, but Simon knew she was a changeling. He was immensely proud of himself for figuring it out. He’d noticed a subtle tonal inflection in Toox's speech, even when she changed form. It was reminiscent of giant, of all things, and once he caught it, he’d been keeping an ear out ever since. He hadn’t had occasion to study it further until he arrived in Graywall. Megan had the same inflection. It was very difficult to pick out- he doubted he could even explain it properly- but it was definitely there. He didn’t have any proof and he certainly didn’t want to raise any suspicions; however the changeling went about their business was no concern of his. Megan was friendly, prompt, and gave him space. He, in turn, tipped extremely well and made no mention.
His friends- he knew they were hired help, but he couldn’t think of them that way- had been called off on an adventure as soon as they arrived. This was to be expected, and it suited Simon to spend a few days relaxing in a proper inn with a full tavern below. He had laid claim to a booth in the corner, out of sight of the other patrons, but still allowed for the pleasant background chatter as he studied and reviewed. It was there he’d met Megan.
And so it was this evening he decided to come down with just one book and a single scroll, more for lazy perusal than true academic work. He recognized many of the patrons, though he didn’t care for them. There was a… feeling… about them that made him uncomfortable. So, he sat in his booth, reading his book, and sipping on his watered-down wine. He’d hoped for some live music this evening, but he appeared to be out of luck.
Two men, both human, took a seat at a table nearby. One was lean and muscular- a magic user for certain. Simon was surprised to see him without his twin brother. The other, though, looked like he fell out of one of the pulp novels Simon read as a child. He was a wandslinger, and definitely dressing for the part. He even had a bandolier of wands over his shoulder and across his chest. Simon wanted to laugh at the long duster and wide-brimmed hat, but the man moved in a way that suggested danger. Also… he did look good in the getup. Nothing about him looked cheap. The wandslinger leaned in and spoke to the twin in a quiet voice.
“How are we sitting?”
Now, Simon was a master of languages- over a dozen fluent and countless others in bits and pieces- but he was also a teacher. In his decades in the classroom Simon had seen every way humanoids could communicate surreptitiously. He’d recognized the rings his friends used almost immediately- they can’t help but allow their faces to react, and the tendency to look at each other is a hard one to break. But much more common were the hushed voices and quick glances like the boys here were engaging in. They were never as quiet as they thought, and Simon was easy to underestimate. He made a show of copying a random sentence out of his book as he attuned he ears to their conversation, mostly for fun and practice.
“We’ll have the lot of them soon. Feldspar Merrlin isn’t nearly as smart as he thinks he is.”
Simon schooled his face, which he kept focused on the scroll. He switched from copying to taking quick notes on their conversation.
“I keep telling you: Feldspar isn’t the dangerous one. It’s the elf you have to watch.”
“We’ve got plenty of men to handle her too. We convinced the smugglers to join us. Feldspar will try to play us off each other, but instead he’ll fall right into our hands.”
“Yeah… we’ll see. What about the others?”
“Nothing big. Some weird warforged, some garbage changeling,” Simon caught the disgust in the word, “and a human blood-traitor. They travel with a few servants but nothing of consequence.”
Servants? thought Simon, amused. I thought I hired them…
“They arrived yesterday,” the twin continued. “Two of them tried talking to us yesterday. It was everything I had not to lose my breakfast right there.”
“All right, all right…” the wandslinger interrupted in a bored tone. “I don’t care. But you wouldn’t have paid all this platinum if you thought this was going to work. So, what’s next?”
“I didn’t pay you a thing. You were sent here. I trust our Master is just being cautious,” the mage’s tone was now icy, but the wandslinger didn’t care. They sat in silence as Megan came by and took their orders. Simon could almost feel the wandslinger’s eyes roll as he picked up the conversation.
“Okay, but since I’m here, let’s assume they manage to escape. Who have you got left?”
The mage’s tone was sulky. “My brother and I, plus you, and around a half dozen others.”
“I could hire you some help… I know a handful of orcs over the bridge. They’re effective and don’t ask questions.”
Simon recognized mocking when he heard it. He couldn’t help but smile a bit as he pretended to study a particularly interesting passage. He realized he needed to get out of here to warn the others, but he wasn’t sure where they were, and it sounded like there was a lot more to gain by staying put. Also, he had no idea how he could leave without drawing attention…
Simon was too lost in his thoughts to catch the mage’s retort, but Simon could guess the gist. He took a breath and focused.
“…sure all of them will be at the meet with Feldspar? None are going somewhere else? None of the servants pose a threat?” the wandslinger was asking.
“For the last time, no!” the mage’s voice was raised a bit in his mounting frustration. There was a pause as the volume reset.
“We’ve had people tracking them. Its just the three mongrels, plus some help from that idiot in House Tharashk. They sent some orc… thing… to help. They’re outnumbered 4 or 5 to one.”
“I’m starting to see why I was sent here,” there was a strain starting to show in the gunslinger’s voice.
“I don’t see wh-“ the mage’s voice cut off with a choke. Simon took a gamble and glanced in toward the rest of the common room. Megan was setting down mugs and smiling at the wandslinger, the mage was sitting stock still. Unnaturally so. Simon focused back on his scroll and listened intently. There was a sharp intake of breath as the mage was able to breathe again, but the wandslinger’s voice was sharp, low, and intense. It was magic, he was sure, but Simon had no idea how the wandslinger did it.
“Now listen to me, pup. I’d be fine with letting you and your little band get yourselves killed. Hell, the reward on you bastards and the goodwill from Droaam is almost worth it. But I took this job, Keeper take me, and I mean to do it right. So, here’s what’ll go down.
Your little trap will fail. Feldspar and Ninarin have cleared longer odds than you idiots without help, and if the team they picked up is even vaguely competent then most of them are walking away from this. The best we can hope for is for them to have wasted their big bangs on your front lines. So, we need to ambush them before they can truly recover… when their guard is down. Any idea where? Don’t answer. You aren’t smart enough.”
The bridge, thought Simon, as the wandslinger said the same. “We’ll hit them at the top of the bridge. It’ll be dark, and neither side will be able to see what’s going on or have any inclination to risk getting involved. As soon as your brother gets back from dropping off your soon-to-be-dead brethren we’ll set up shop under the bridge and lay in wait. We take out Ninarin first, then blast the lot of them off the sides. The lava will hopefully do the rest. Then we run like fucking hell and hope we get away with it.”
“And what if our team is successful?” the mage was trying to keep up his derision, but it was hard to keep it up in the face of the wandslinger’s confident accounting.
“Then you can have half my take from this job.”
They sat in silence for a while longer. Simon was preparing to make his escape when the other twin came into the room. He walked directly to the other two and spoke without preamble.
“I don’t think this plan will work.”
“Well, now we know which one of you got the brains.”
“You have a plan, then, Arges?” asked the newly arrived twin.
Arges, scribbled Simon. We have a name for the wandslinger, at least.
“I do. We’ll ambush them on the bridge with whatever you’ve got left.”
“What about their servants?”
“Your brother here says they aren’t worth worrying about.”
“Greegus,” said the standing twin, his tone disapproving.
And Greegus…
“Why would we waste the lives of a few pureblood servants? They’re worthless.”
Simon’s amusement with being called a servant was starting to wane.
“Master’s instructions were to clear all of this. We know one of them is holed up in the House building down the street. We’ll destroy their rooms here, and then kill the servants.” The newly arrived twin’s tone grew quiet and intense. “I saw the beginning of the fight. We underestimated them, brother. They will win that fight, and they may kill us as well. We have to do whatever we can for the cause.”
“Good enough,” said Arges, “though I have no intention of dying with you lot tonight. Send your help to deal with the rooms and the servants. You got the potions? Good. Let’s get to the bridge.” The sounds of chairs scraping forced Simon to remember to breathe. Simon put on his best absent-minded professor bit as he prayed furiously to not be noticed. Fortunately, the steps led immediately away from the table. Simon risked another glance as the front door opened. The trio exited, one of the twins gesturing for a few other patrons to follow him out. Simon’s dread mounted as they left. How many of them are there? How did no one notice this?
Simon’s short scroll was running out of room. He forced a long breath and attempted to quiet his panicking mind. He could do this… he just needed to figure out what this was.
Megan came by and set a fresh mug on the table. He tried not to let his panic show as he thanked her. She stepped away from the table and Simon took a deep drink.
This wine was not watered down at all. As he drank Megan’s voice sounded magically in his head.
“They don’t know you’re with them. Rooms will be attacked soon. Get valuables, get Tarryn, get wagon, escape. I’ll help others. Think back ‘okay’.”
Okay.
Simon outlined a quick plan on the scroll, drank deep from the cup, and gathered his belongings. As he did, he noticed a key that hadn’t been there before. Megan is very good… He left a gold on the table. It didn’t seem like nearly enough. Simon felt like he was moving absurdly slow as he walked up the stairs, but he reminded himself he couldn’t draw attention.
The others will be fine, he told himself. Even the wandslinger doesn’t like his odds. The stuff in real danger is… well, us, I guess.
Simon went to his own room first. He had no idea if they’d show up here or not, but he knew he couldn’t risk losing his research. He frantically shoved everything into his bag of holding, then looked around. Taking everything would tip them off. Better to leave something and hope it survived. He had the research, and no one seemed to know about the wagon. The rest could be replaced. He paused for a moment at his door. Simon’s hand reached into his bag of holding and pulled out a blunderbuss. It had been a gift from his dear friend and mentor, Professor Bosco, when Simon announced his plans to travel to Dooram. Bosco had warned him the thing would be as likely to kill him as it would anyone else, but in case of emergency at least no one would see it coming. Simon smiled, returning it to the bag. Bosco was as wise as he was hilarious.
Simon reentered the hallway and pulled out the key. He went to Celosia’s room first. The key worked. He glanced around quickly for anything of value. The only thing he found was a stuffed pink unicorn, which he grabbed. He went to Toox’s room next, grateful the key worked again. He recognized a bag of holding in a drawer. He tied it onto his belt and moved on to Tarryn’s room. The room barely looked used and he found nothing in the room. This was to be expected.
Simon paused outside of Ripper’s room. How do I play this? He thought. If they leave it’ll tip off the Purists. But I can’t leave them to die, either. Hell, I don’t even know if they’ll listen to me… Simon used the key still without knowing what he was going to do. Four empty sets of eyes regarded him. Simon shivered despite himself. He looked at the plants. An idea formed.
“The plants are in danger. I have a plan to keep them safe.” Simon put as much confidence in his voice as he could. The warforged continued to regard him silently.
Simon closed Ripper's door behind him and was just finishing locking it when he heard steps coming up to the landing. Simon took a deep breath and tried to walk as naturally as he could. Two humans and a dwarf considered him as they turned into the hallway. Simon asked himself what Toox would do, and when that failed, considered what Celosia Senho would do instead. So, he smiled brightly at the trio and greeted them warmly. They had violence in their eyes, but decided to ignore him. Simon stepped as quickly as he dared down the stairs and into the night.
Once outside Simon took off at run for the House building. He ran into Tarryn Rowntree- literally- on the steps.
“Simon! What are you doing?”
“We’re being attacked.”
The change in Tarryn was immediate. A blade flashed into his hand as he moved to the other side of Simon, his eyes searching the darkness.
“They’re in the inn. They’re planning to trash our rooms, but I cleared most of them. I didn’t find anything in your room.”
“I didn’t even get a chance to unpack. What about the others?”
“They’re in Bloodstone with Feldspar. There’s fighting, but they should be fine. We need to get the wagon now.”
Tarryn shook his head. “I don’t know how. They’ll give it to us, but not quickly. Not unless… wait, is that Sergeant Clint?”
Sure enough, Sargent Clint jogged up quickly. “Follow me, gentlemen. There isn’t much time.” Together they approached the House Kundarak overnight desk. Sargent Clint showed emergency authorization papers and his personal seal, leaning hard into his authority. That, combined with verification from Tarryn, had the House Kundarak staff scrambling. Sargent Clint smiled at them.
“That should get you all settled. I’m going to help the others. Be safe.” Tarryn stared in open-mouthed shock as the House Deneith official jogged quickly toward the bridge.
She is very very good, thought Simon.
Simon and Tarryn were quickly shown back to the wagon. The guards were pulling open a wider gate as they climbed aboard. As he sat down, Simon realized he’d never ridden in the front of the wagon before. The lack of horses in front of them was both fascinating and somewhat disconcerting.
“Okay, where to?” asked Tarryn.
“The backside of the inn. We need to get to Ripper’s window.”
“How will we know which one is his?”
“It’ll be obvious.”
The Edhellen roared to life as it sped through the night. Within moments Tarryn was steering to the back of the Golden Dragon Inn. As he came around the corner an explosion blew out the wall of an upstairs room. Wood and glass showered down just in front of them.
“By the flame!” swore Tarryn. “I’m assuming that was Ripper’s room?”
“No.. that was yours…” said Simon in amazement. He pointed to a window farther down. “That’s Ripper’s.” A lantern was being held aloft by a warforged outside the window. Tarryn pulled up to the building as close as he could. The drop was only seven or eight feet for the warforged, nothing to give them any trouble. The warforged moved quickly to secure the plants, and then themselves. Two came down, then after a moment two more. As soon as the last one landed on the deck Tarryn took off as fast as the Edhellen could go.
“Where to now?” asked Tarryn.
“We should try to leave Graywall. That’s the sensible thing to do.” The look from Tarryn echoed Simon’s own thoughts.
“Right, then. To the top of the bridge.” Tarryn nodded, and the wagon flew through the darkness.
His friends- he knew they were hired help, but he couldn’t think of them that way- had been called off on an adventure as soon as they arrived. This was to be expected, and it suited Simon to spend a few days relaxing in a proper inn with a full tavern below. He had laid claim to a booth in the corner, out of sight of the other patrons, but still allowed for the pleasant background chatter as he studied and reviewed. It was there he’d met Megan.
And so it was this evening he decided to come down with just one book and a single scroll, more for lazy perusal than true academic work. He recognized many of the patrons, though he didn’t care for them. There was a… feeling… about them that made him uncomfortable. So, he sat in his booth, reading his book, and sipping on his watered-down wine. He’d hoped for some live music this evening, but he appeared to be out of luck.
Two men, both human, took a seat at a table nearby. One was lean and muscular- a magic user for certain. Simon was surprised to see him without his twin brother. The other, though, looked like he fell out of one of the pulp novels Simon read as a child. He was a wandslinger, and definitely dressing for the part. He even had a bandolier of wands over his shoulder and across his chest. Simon wanted to laugh at the long duster and wide-brimmed hat, but the man moved in a way that suggested danger. Also… he did look good in the getup. Nothing about him looked cheap. The wandslinger leaned in and spoke to the twin in a quiet voice.
“How are we sitting?”
Now, Simon was a master of languages- over a dozen fluent and countless others in bits and pieces- but he was also a teacher. In his decades in the classroom Simon had seen every way humanoids could communicate surreptitiously. He’d recognized the rings his friends used almost immediately- they can’t help but allow their faces to react, and the tendency to look at each other is a hard one to break. But much more common were the hushed voices and quick glances like the boys here were engaging in. They were never as quiet as they thought, and Simon was easy to underestimate. He made a show of copying a random sentence out of his book as he attuned he ears to their conversation, mostly for fun and practice.
“We’ll have the lot of them soon. Feldspar Merrlin isn’t nearly as smart as he thinks he is.”
Simon schooled his face, which he kept focused on the scroll. He switched from copying to taking quick notes on their conversation.
“I keep telling you: Feldspar isn’t the dangerous one. It’s the elf you have to watch.”
“We’ve got plenty of men to handle her too. We convinced the smugglers to join us. Feldspar will try to play us off each other, but instead he’ll fall right into our hands.”
“Yeah… we’ll see. What about the others?”
“Nothing big. Some weird warforged, some garbage changeling,” Simon caught the disgust in the word, “and a human blood-traitor. They travel with a few servants but nothing of consequence.”
Servants? thought Simon, amused. I thought I hired them…
“They arrived yesterday,” the twin continued. “Two of them tried talking to us yesterday. It was everything I had not to lose my breakfast right there.”
“All right, all right…” the wandslinger interrupted in a bored tone. “I don’t care. But you wouldn’t have paid all this platinum if you thought this was going to work. So, what’s next?”
“I didn’t pay you a thing. You were sent here. I trust our Master is just being cautious,” the mage’s tone was now icy, but the wandslinger didn’t care. They sat in silence as Megan came by and took their orders. Simon could almost feel the wandslinger’s eyes roll as he picked up the conversation.
“Okay, but since I’m here, let’s assume they manage to escape. Who have you got left?”
The mage’s tone was sulky. “My brother and I, plus you, and around a half dozen others.”
“I could hire you some help… I know a handful of orcs over the bridge. They’re effective and don’t ask questions.”
Simon recognized mocking when he heard it. He couldn’t help but smile a bit as he pretended to study a particularly interesting passage. He realized he needed to get out of here to warn the others, but he wasn’t sure where they were, and it sounded like there was a lot more to gain by staying put. Also, he had no idea how he could leave without drawing attention…
Simon was too lost in his thoughts to catch the mage’s retort, but Simon could guess the gist. He took a breath and focused.
“…sure all of them will be at the meet with Feldspar? None are going somewhere else? None of the servants pose a threat?” the wandslinger was asking.
“For the last time, no!” the mage’s voice was raised a bit in his mounting frustration. There was a pause as the volume reset.
“We’ve had people tracking them. Its just the three mongrels, plus some help from that idiot in House Tharashk. They sent some orc… thing… to help. They’re outnumbered 4 or 5 to one.”
“I’m starting to see why I was sent here,” there was a strain starting to show in the gunslinger’s voice.
“I don’t see wh-“ the mage’s voice cut off with a choke. Simon took a gamble and glanced in toward the rest of the common room. Megan was setting down mugs and smiling at the wandslinger, the mage was sitting stock still. Unnaturally so. Simon focused back on his scroll and listened intently. There was a sharp intake of breath as the mage was able to breathe again, but the wandslinger’s voice was sharp, low, and intense. It was magic, he was sure, but Simon had no idea how the wandslinger did it.
“Now listen to me, pup. I’d be fine with letting you and your little band get yourselves killed. Hell, the reward on you bastards and the goodwill from Droaam is almost worth it. But I took this job, Keeper take me, and I mean to do it right. So, here’s what’ll go down.
Your little trap will fail. Feldspar and Ninarin have cleared longer odds than you idiots without help, and if the team they picked up is even vaguely competent then most of them are walking away from this. The best we can hope for is for them to have wasted their big bangs on your front lines. So, we need to ambush them before they can truly recover… when their guard is down. Any idea where? Don’t answer. You aren’t smart enough.”
The bridge, thought Simon, as the wandslinger said the same. “We’ll hit them at the top of the bridge. It’ll be dark, and neither side will be able to see what’s going on or have any inclination to risk getting involved. As soon as your brother gets back from dropping off your soon-to-be-dead brethren we’ll set up shop under the bridge and lay in wait. We take out Ninarin first, then blast the lot of them off the sides. The lava will hopefully do the rest. Then we run like fucking hell and hope we get away with it.”
“And what if our team is successful?” the mage was trying to keep up his derision, but it was hard to keep it up in the face of the wandslinger’s confident accounting.
“Then you can have half my take from this job.”
They sat in silence for a while longer. Simon was preparing to make his escape when the other twin came into the room. He walked directly to the other two and spoke without preamble.
“I don’t think this plan will work.”
“Well, now we know which one of you got the brains.”
“You have a plan, then, Arges?” asked the newly arrived twin.
Arges, scribbled Simon. We have a name for the wandslinger, at least.
“I do. We’ll ambush them on the bridge with whatever you’ve got left.”
“What about their servants?”
“Your brother here says they aren’t worth worrying about.”
“Greegus,” said the standing twin, his tone disapproving.
And Greegus…
“Why would we waste the lives of a few pureblood servants? They’re worthless.”
Simon’s amusement with being called a servant was starting to wane.
“Master’s instructions were to clear all of this. We know one of them is holed up in the House building down the street. We’ll destroy their rooms here, and then kill the servants.” The newly arrived twin’s tone grew quiet and intense. “I saw the beginning of the fight. We underestimated them, brother. They will win that fight, and they may kill us as well. We have to do whatever we can for the cause.”
“Good enough,” said Arges, “though I have no intention of dying with you lot tonight. Send your help to deal with the rooms and the servants. You got the potions? Good. Let’s get to the bridge.” The sounds of chairs scraping forced Simon to remember to breathe. Simon put on his best absent-minded professor bit as he prayed furiously to not be noticed. Fortunately, the steps led immediately away from the table. Simon risked another glance as the front door opened. The trio exited, one of the twins gesturing for a few other patrons to follow him out. Simon’s dread mounted as they left. How many of them are there? How did no one notice this?
Simon’s short scroll was running out of room. He forced a long breath and attempted to quiet his panicking mind. He could do this… he just needed to figure out what this was.
Megan came by and set a fresh mug on the table. He tried not to let his panic show as he thanked her. She stepped away from the table and Simon took a deep drink.
This wine was not watered down at all. As he drank Megan’s voice sounded magically in his head.
“They don’t know you’re with them. Rooms will be attacked soon. Get valuables, get Tarryn, get wagon, escape. I’ll help others. Think back ‘okay’.”
Okay.
Simon outlined a quick plan on the scroll, drank deep from the cup, and gathered his belongings. As he did, he noticed a key that hadn’t been there before. Megan is very good… He left a gold on the table. It didn’t seem like nearly enough. Simon felt like he was moving absurdly slow as he walked up the stairs, but he reminded himself he couldn’t draw attention.
The others will be fine, he told himself. Even the wandslinger doesn’t like his odds. The stuff in real danger is… well, us, I guess.
Simon went to his own room first. He had no idea if they’d show up here or not, but he knew he couldn’t risk losing his research. He frantically shoved everything into his bag of holding, then looked around. Taking everything would tip them off. Better to leave something and hope it survived. He had the research, and no one seemed to know about the wagon. The rest could be replaced. He paused for a moment at his door. Simon’s hand reached into his bag of holding and pulled out a blunderbuss. It had been a gift from his dear friend and mentor, Professor Bosco, when Simon announced his plans to travel to Dooram. Bosco had warned him the thing would be as likely to kill him as it would anyone else, but in case of emergency at least no one would see it coming. Simon smiled, returning it to the bag. Bosco was as wise as he was hilarious.
Simon reentered the hallway and pulled out the key. He went to Celosia’s room first. The key worked. He glanced around quickly for anything of value. The only thing he found was a stuffed pink unicorn, which he grabbed. He went to Toox’s room next, grateful the key worked again. He recognized a bag of holding in a drawer. He tied it onto his belt and moved on to Tarryn’s room. The room barely looked used and he found nothing in the room. This was to be expected.
Simon paused outside of Ripper’s room. How do I play this? He thought. If they leave it’ll tip off the Purists. But I can’t leave them to die, either. Hell, I don’t even know if they’ll listen to me… Simon used the key still without knowing what he was going to do. Four empty sets of eyes regarded him. Simon shivered despite himself. He looked at the plants. An idea formed.
“The plants are in danger. I have a plan to keep them safe.” Simon put as much confidence in his voice as he could. The warforged continued to regard him silently.
Simon closed Ripper's door behind him and was just finishing locking it when he heard steps coming up to the landing. Simon took a deep breath and tried to walk as naturally as he could. Two humans and a dwarf considered him as they turned into the hallway. Simon asked himself what Toox would do, and when that failed, considered what Celosia Senho would do instead. So, he smiled brightly at the trio and greeted them warmly. They had violence in their eyes, but decided to ignore him. Simon stepped as quickly as he dared down the stairs and into the night.
Once outside Simon took off at run for the House building. He ran into Tarryn Rowntree- literally- on the steps.
“Simon! What are you doing?”
“We’re being attacked.”
The change in Tarryn was immediate. A blade flashed into his hand as he moved to the other side of Simon, his eyes searching the darkness.
“They’re in the inn. They’re planning to trash our rooms, but I cleared most of them. I didn’t find anything in your room.”
“I didn’t even get a chance to unpack. What about the others?”
“They’re in Bloodstone with Feldspar. There’s fighting, but they should be fine. We need to get the wagon now.”
Tarryn shook his head. “I don’t know how. They’ll give it to us, but not quickly. Not unless… wait, is that Sergeant Clint?”
Sure enough, Sargent Clint jogged up quickly. “Follow me, gentlemen. There isn’t much time.” Together they approached the House Kundarak overnight desk. Sargent Clint showed emergency authorization papers and his personal seal, leaning hard into his authority. That, combined with verification from Tarryn, had the House Kundarak staff scrambling. Sargent Clint smiled at them.
“That should get you all settled. I’m going to help the others. Be safe.” Tarryn stared in open-mouthed shock as the House Deneith official jogged quickly toward the bridge.
She is very very good, thought Simon.
Simon and Tarryn were quickly shown back to the wagon. The guards were pulling open a wider gate as they climbed aboard. As he sat down, Simon realized he’d never ridden in the front of the wagon before. The lack of horses in front of them was both fascinating and somewhat disconcerting.
“Okay, where to?” asked Tarryn.
“The backside of the inn. We need to get to Ripper’s window.”
“How will we know which one is his?”
“It’ll be obvious.”
The Edhellen roared to life as it sped through the night. Within moments Tarryn was steering to the back of the Golden Dragon Inn. As he came around the corner an explosion blew out the wall of an upstairs room. Wood and glass showered down just in front of them.
“By the flame!” swore Tarryn. “I’m assuming that was Ripper’s room?”
“No.. that was yours…” said Simon in amazement. He pointed to a window farther down. “That’s Ripper’s.” A lantern was being held aloft by a warforged outside the window. Tarryn pulled up to the building as close as he could. The drop was only seven or eight feet for the warforged, nothing to give them any trouble. The warforged moved quickly to secure the plants, and then themselves. Two came down, then after a moment two more. As soon as the last one landed on the deck Tarryn took off as fast as the Edhellen could go.
“Where to now?” asked Tarryn.
“We should try to leave Graywall. That’s the sensible thing to do.” The look from Tarryn echoed Simon’s own thoughts.
“Right, then. To the top of the bridge.” Tarryn nodded, and the wagon flew through the darkness.
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