The Toothless Gargoyle Resthouse


As Miklos followed the dwarf through the crowd he wondered where he was leading them. The selection of uninviting names taken by the local establishments didn’t add to his confidence.

Crowds like this always made Saeth feel uncomfortable. No room to swing a blade, no room to move about. And a crowd, so easily become a stampede. Why wouldn’t that red-faced dwarf just hurry up and pick a tavern? Wasn’t one the same as the next? Saeth touched the hilt of her dagger, just for comfort. And then her pouch of silver, because one could never be too careful of thieves in a city.

Feldard was sure the tavern he had checked into yesterday had been right down here…positive. The trouble with the landscape had become clearly apparent. It was made of livery of various different humans and they flowed around him changing from moment to moment like a blasted river. None of the establishments’ names sounded familiar. He couldn’t even see that infernal rainbucket he had been forced to climb. Nothing! It was like being trapped in an everchanging maze made of garish colored fabric!

“Are you such this is the right sort of area? I know a lovely spot o’er the other end of town…” asked the young mage. Miklos had read that dwarves had an uncanny sense of direction so he guessed that he knew where he was going. Passing the first public house he read the name.

Feldard trudged on, unable to allow himself to admit that nothing looked familiar, for well he knew how much a dwarf could be judged by others based on his sense of direction–no matter the people couldn’t be bothered to make a city that was navigable! Now they had an elf in tow, there was no way to admit that he’d gotten lost now.

“The ‘Joyful Fist’ Taproom sounds like a delightful and welcoming place.” Miklos wondered whether sarcasm was known to dwarves, and hoped that he did not take him seriously. There were few places in this busy city that were entirely free of noisy rabble and he was headed in the opposite way. “Perhaps a left here?” He hoped to turn the general course, but looking left the ‘Dancing Goblin Inn’ spewed its gap-tooth inhabitants out on to the street. “Perhaps not. I’d suggest a different city?”

The crowds pressed ever closer around the Inns and proved difficult even for the redoubtable dwarf to make way but toward the back end of the street the it eased and Maruc noted the Toothless Gargoyle Resthouse was possibly least patronised, at the moment.

“Master Feldard!” He called to the dwarf. I spy a free table over by the ‘Gargoyle’, I suggest we make our way over there.”

Feldard felt rescued a bit when his cleric friend picked a place–the Toothless Gargoyle for what it was worth. He hurried across trying to keep pace with him, bringing his shield and heavy footmace up onto the chair to add his own aura of polite menace to the cleric’s. It seemed to work and soon he found himself a good three feet higher and with a mug in his hands. Things were indeed looking more favorable. Still he would have to sneak away at some point later to see about his possessions–wherever THEY were…

Maruc lengthens his stride as he spots someone else trying the bag the free table. Maruc casted his heavy traveling bag onto the table as the man sits down. Macus drags his heavy cloak around revealing the Halavist ceremonial shield and armour. He allowed the man a few seconds to see his clerical garb and his wide implacable grin. “My friends and I have traveled from many corners of the land to experience the generosity and welcome of the folk of Specularum.” Maruc left the words hanging as the rest of the party approached. The man was about to say something but slowly withdrew muttering something under his breath.

“Blessed are the folk of Specularum!” Maruc called after his retreating back.

Loosening her bandoleer as she stepped quickly, Saeth managed to reach the table before the priest moved his gear from tabletop to a seat. She tossed her great blade across the table. With a deep thud, it claimed for her a seat on the bench that leaned against a wall. She had many years yet to live, and had no desire to get a drunk’s knife in her back, as fearless Lord Bornhold did, way back in Callair. But, with her seat claimed, further introductions could wait. With a curt nod, the sellsword elf turned her attention to finding the innkeeper. She wasn’t lying when she’d told the boy she needed a place to sleep. And she’d need to order ales for the table from him as well. She counted on her fingers to be certain; four ales should do to start. The prices for rooms here were highway robbery! Saeth supposed, however, that this was to be expected during festival season. At least she wouldn’t be in a stable again tonight, even if this wasn’t the Duke’s keep.

As the others approached the cleric said, “Sit! Sit my friends and let us all be known. I am Maruc, a servant of the people of Karameikos. The stern Dwarven Lord Feldard I already know, so whom do we have the pleasure of the company of?”

* * * * *

A Dwarf and an elf together? Not natural, something up. Add in the youth and a Halavist, and something definitely worth keeping an eye on. Nicolai orders a pint of the second worst ale available, and sits at a table adjacent to the unusual grouping.

Not an easy task to follow and listen to a group such as this. Dwarfs and Elves are too observant. Need to change appearance if they stay here for too long or move on.


Filed under Dungeons & Dragons

5 responses to “The Toothless Gargoyle Resthouse

  1. I think this is going great so far. You guys are clearly talented writers and I’m really enjoying the interactions that you are putting together.

    For now, let’s just have the characters introduce each other, and, if you wish, talk to the other tavern patrons, barkeep or waitress to get more info about the city, etc. Then, in my next DM post I’ll get us started with some plot developments .

    If you have any suggestions or ideas you’d like to communicate to me, feel free to email me at

  2. Saeth Tegau

    The prices for rooms here were highway robbery! Saeth supposed, however, that this was to be expected during festival season. At least she wouldn’t be in a stable again tonight, even if this wasn’t the Duke’s keep.

    Carefully lifting the four cups brimming with ale, she made her way back toward the table, where the dwarf, his friend, and the unfortunate youth were already talking. A pity, the boy had ended up in the seat across from her, too far to kick if he opened his mouth.

    Distributing the mugs, she waited for a pause in the conversation, then announced to nobody in particular, “I’m Saeth Tegau of Callarii, free sword and free spirit.” She failed to notice how pompous it sounded, certain of its poeticism. She looked at the priest. “If you could scoot in a bit, that I could slide back to my seat?”

  3. Feldard Scarredbrow

    “A free sword and a free spirit?” The dwarf said gladly taking the cup and upending it “If y’ask me wielding a weapon with anything but a serious heart and stern sureness of spirit is an insult to the craftsman! You elves with your pretty dancing…” he pauses to let out a warrior’s burp “…with your pretty dancing wouldn’t last a lick in a battle with a real dwarven warmaster! Heh!” He leans forward and leans a hand on his knee. See what the elf woman would say to that!

  4. Maruc (Clr 1)

    “It would be my pleasure to move for you, Miss.”
    I stand allowing Saeth to sit herself as she wishes.

    Skirting neatly over the dwarf’s obviously agressive nature toward the elf, Maruc, ever the peacemaker it seems, would have his work cut out for himself mediating between these two if Saeth chose to rise to his comments.

    He effected a broad grin and chuckled,

    “The infamous Dwarven diplomacy at its finest! I congratulate you both, Seath for her elven calm and superior repose, and Feldard for his robust stoisism. Indeed I am humbled by so mighty -a-gathering. Its a pleasure to meet you Mistress Saeth Tegau of Callarii. A fortunate man would I be to have such excellent travelling companions.”

    “Thank you most kindly for the ale, however my vows from my cloister do no allow me the consumption of alcohol. If it will not cause offence I will gift this ale to a passer by?”

    I look around for anyone who catches my eye in the crowd…

  5. Saeth Tegau

    Dwarves! Always so bombastic and cantankerous! Doubtlessly he’d find someone to start a brawl with by the end of the night.

    “Certainly, any true dwarven warmaster would cut down elves like felling saplings. Fortunately…”
    Suddenly, seeing the priest (or was he a monk?) looking about drove his words home. “You don’t drink ale? Being a holy man must be thirsty business! Can I grab you a glass of port, then?”

    In her surprise at the man’s odd habit, she completely forgot to finish noting that dwarven warmasters were somewhat rarer than treecliming moose.

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