Ah, finally. We have the comforts of a civilisation. After months in the filth and fiend infested darkness, we were finally able to clean up properly. I had forgotten that my hands were not, in fact, dust coloured. To be in clean clothing that is worthy of our stations is a feeling I had almost forgotten about. Once we were cleaned up, we hit the markets. Figured we may as well spend the ridiculous amount of coppers we had acquired over the journey. Though I do not think some merchants appreciated that… alas, I’m sure they could turn it into something else.
Once we had finished, Filgren took us to his mother. My brothers were particularly keen to meet the woman. I was, but not to their extent. I suppose it has to do with memories and childhoods growing up with the man that is, or was, our father. Nethris is a stern and serious woman, not prone to much humor. Given what had happened, I wouldn’t have been either. We helped her with her daily chores as we chatted. Topics included the city and our journey so far, but the most interesting topic was her own journey here.
Of the men that left, only seven came back. They would not tell her what had happened and by her own observation they were sad, sorrowful and clearly hiding a secret. As she couldn’t travel she was left behind in this city. What they were hiding could have been anything. I almost don’t want to know but in order for us to go on, eventually we will have to find out. I just hope that whatever it is doesn’t tarnish the memories my brothers have of our father.
On our way back to Filgren’s home, we were accosted by the little upstart, Horgvar. I suppose I should mention he is a Prince, the third heir. Of nothing, I had much delight in taunting him about. We could have gotten away without incident but he just had to insult our father, a slight Dragor could not let go. I managed to keep this shifty thing away while the boys handled the upstart and his goon.
Managing to head butt then kick the shifty fellow in the balls just before the guards arrived, they did try to stop the fight but then we were accosted by something else and the poor Captain of the Guard promptly took a bolt to the neck. I think it’s only due to Orlaf/Azgan (can’t remember who in the heat of battle) quick thinking he had any chance at all.
Next thing, we were surrounded by these shadow creatures and a male and female drow that seemed to be commanding them. It was a hard slog, not without some injuries (namely to myself, the bastard).