Into the Sunlands
Day of Rule, 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)
"I am Roland de Verley, Knight of the Fellowship of Saint Nicholas, and I would be glad to call you a friend, Mynid the Wayguard." You clasp hands with the troll, the gesture seeming almost absurd in the mismatch of mortal flesh and living stone, though if he thinks any less of you for offering nothing more than the feather-light names of humankind he does not show it. Thus in a rush you add: "If ever your duty allows it, know that you would be a welcome guest among the Fellowship. We spend much of our time at sea, which is perhaps not the best environment for one of your stature and hardy constitution, but we have our base, Wayfarer's Respite, near the city-state of Orinilu, and maybe will build one more on Korman in the coming years."
"Hmm," the echoes off the jagged edges of all the stones about you, as though all of them had been given voice. "I never thought of going out into the Sunlands. 'T would be a perilous thing, and not just from the eyes of man."
"Ah..." Esha breathes, so softly you almost did not hear it, some flash of understanding.
"I do not think the sun would do our new friend much good," she sends, by Swift Pebble's intercession, but before she can explain Mynid does it for her.
"My kin draws on the nature of stone, it makes us mighty at war and gives us memories like the mountains, but like the faces of the mountains, ever frozen facing the sky, we become as dead stone in the light of the sun." A long moment passes and, just as you are about to take your leave, he adds. "Still, perhaps it is worth the risk after all. Better to have company under peril of the sun than down here safe with naught but dumb stone for company."
"It can be... scary stepping out of the shadows," Esha says and you know that she does not mean the darkness of deep places or of the night. Darkness can just as easily be in the minds of people, be they unliving monster or deathless fey lord.
Whether Mynid shall defy his lord or find some other way to visit you do not know, but what is certain is that more then the jewels he has just given something hang heavy between you.
***
Up and out you may it along the narrow way whence you cam unchanged, save that it is not morning that greets you on your return, but a sky all ablaze with stars, their shapes still unfamiliar to you, though the breath of mortal air alone is enough to assure you that you left the smoke and flame of the forges behind you... at least for the moment. It occurs to you rather belatedly that it is odd for one of the tinker fey, who seek out apprentices and servants, to bring about their craft and the adulation of his fellows to bask in triumph would linger here in the world of men, known only to a few.
Perhaps he has his own reasons unsaid not to go down to Glimerdale and reasons also to send you down there to recover his work. After all if someone had asked you what it was you would have plead honest ignorance. Still. you are not about to confront him on the point when Tom bears his spear again and you had come out of the whole affair with an ally in the fey lands.
"Well then, what will you have fer yer reward, brave ones?" the tinker-fey practically buzzes, once your tale had been told and the boxes and crates of bizarre treasure had been deposited back in his care. "I can give you some thunder weapons, though be warned dust will be hard to come by without trading with spirits of the earth. Else some sturdy weapons, blades and crossbows will see you right."
"We do not seem to be lacking for weapons, master smith," Zaia motions to all of you with a sweep of his arm. "What of knowledge that enriches the seeker while leaving the teacher no worse off?"
"You got a season or two to spend with it?" comes the suspicious reply. The spirit kin sizes up Zaia as though he were a particularly obstinate lump of copper.
"Ah... no, we cannot, wise one," the alchemist replies, not without regret as he shifts in his seat, looking to his left and his right. Perhaps he is even a little guilty to have asked for something that would most likely serve him alone.
"Well I could send one of my apprentices, but be warned he's a wild one and more hasty with his tools that even you that are born of flesh..."
A fey smith would be of great use to Wayfarer's Respite, but you are reminded of the strange gleaming you had seem among the treasures you had recovered, and something the spirit of fire had said in he north. "What of metals that are not copper and bronze, or even iron or silver? Have you any of those to share?" you ask, reasoning that one who dwells in the deep reaches of the earth or trades with those who do would have access to such treasures which could be forged by a mage smith in a mortal realm.
"Oh... sure, sure that would work as well," he grumbles, as much as a voice so small even can.
Choose one reward:
[] Fire-dust weapons, hard to use harder to maintain these are nonetheless peerless weapons for their task and which can be found only among the earth kindred
[] Simpler weapons and more honest, but still masterfully crafted
[] An apprentice of the smith to take with you in your service for three years service
[] Rare metals of the earth
OOC: And we are done. I am thinking about making your next vote the level up one.