Work Text
Red Larch is a quiet town most days. We have an ebb and a flow that includes taking note of every passersby; seeking out that perfect story to later tell to our friends and neighbors and constantly on the prowl for news that may affect our little slice of Bytopia.When there are new residences built, or a new family comes into town there is a mixture of curiosity and defensiveness. As large as this town is, we are a tightnight little group. That isn’t to say that we don’t do our best to be outwardly friendly, we do try. It’s not meant to be an act of dismissiveness or cruelty to the newcomers, we only wish to keep our small town on the Long Road as safe as we can. Neighboring settlements are in no distance to assist us in dire times. When unusual circumstances occur, we band us together in a way that lets us work as a seamless group and protect those we care about; protect this town. We are cautiously excited to let newcomers join our community, so long as we are sure they will not compromise our home.Like any other town we have our customs, festivals, and holidays and the town rejoices as one in those times as well. So when I begin to tell you about the day that these four travelers became residents, I want you to understand why we have so much detail about their arrival. It was at once unusual, and jarring. We have experienced our fair share of travellers, but never such an odd collection of new residents moving in at the same time nor in such strange ways as the story I am about to recount for you.For your understanding, I am but a simple merchant, selling my wares from a portable cart-stall. Every morning before the first traveler rises from their inn or tavern I set up along the corner of the Long Road and Kheldel Path. Come an hour-to-noon my eldest son comes from the house to assess what our stock is, and then goes home to retrieve the wares needed. We restock and tidy, and then he returns home to help my partner to replenish the home supply of wares. The pattern remains, but the clientele and the passer-by always change. Each day is a bright new blessing, if weather and mood allow it to be such.On the particular day in which these events took place, I had done as mentioned above, settling the cart into its usual location, opening the boxes and filling the stand with the wares contained in it’s storage bin. As the morning citizens and travelers arose, I set about selling my wares. Given the location of Red Larch on the Long Road, most people who pass through either stay a night here, leaving early in the morning, or pass through in the early hours. Most who arrive in the evening will stay the night, rather than attempt to rush on in any direction, unless their horse and cart are particularly well-tended. Some will continue south, knowing there is an inn along the way, but the three remaining trails offer little respite until a neighboring town is hit; an amount of travel that often requires a full day or more of travel.As is the case, my cart is usually most busy in the morning hours or the evening hours, with a few stops throughout the day. With these long stretches of day to relax, I will often work on some small things that can be transported into public, read a new book provided by a neighbor, or simply enjoy the sights and sounds of the day. Spring had recently arrived in Red Larch, so on this day, I took to the lattermost of these activities.After the morning rush, I took to a shady spot near a building where the morning glories were blooming and emitting a sweet scent. I sat there for some time, looking up and watching the birds flit about.Suddenly, the landscape around me was eclipsed in a large shadow moving South-Eastward. Birds and land animals became perplexed, squabbling and scurrying off, hiding in their various safe places. Stepping out of my little cubby, I looked up, hearing the sound of a furnace just faintly on the breeze and saw a boat.. A ship? Some form of structure that I was certain belonged in the ocean - and yet was in the sky! As it passed overhead, sinking at an alarming rate, I saw tethered above it a giant red… water bladder? In deep black and white lettering, embellished upon the sides of this water bladder was a symbol of an ‘A’ and an ‘I’ stacked vertically. At the time I hadn’t remembered where I’d seen it, but I can now say with certainty that it was the very same logo that, in years prior, had hung in front of the Dran and Courtier Tavern run by the esteemed Prophetess Dran.Prophetess’ very son ran, and clearly maintains, a company with that logo. They are called something like Acquisitions Incinerated - no - Incorporated? Yes, I believe that was it. In any case, this flying boat was there, in the sky, headed in the direction of the Dran and Courtier. Was her son finally stopping by for a long-anticipated visit?But alas, no.As I intently watched, the boat passed beyond the sun, no longer blocking it’s intense rays. Instantaneously my vision was flooded by the midday brightness typical of the Dessarin Valley. From where I strained to watch, I saw a faint form - something with weight, but perhaps enveloped in fabric - was plummeting from the ship. The second it fell, the ship began to gain altitude and swing South-Westward. There was a soft crunch that I barely heard as the object landed in some alley or another, and then as swiftly as it occurred, the boat was gone. I saw one or two neighbors leave their homes and shops and look after the ship as it sailed skyward and Southward. There were a few panicked moments as I shared what I had seen to the others. We had intended for one of us to investigate the object that had fallen from the ship, but as we discussed one of our number noticed a large, elaborate carriage approaching the gates of town from the Long Road to the North.When wealth enters a town such as Red Larch, all the shopkeepers know of the unending possibilities. We returned to our positions hastily and prepared for the opportunity to hawk our wares the second this great patron might pass by our shop or stall. As we hustled and bustled, a few other travelers passed by, each of varying levels of note. One such person was a Sun or Wood Elf, as I understand it. Her expression was hard and icy - well suited for the armor and battle-ready stance she maintained as she walked. Looking at each building and man-made structure in her path with revile, she strutted unhindered by shop or patron alike. I, too, made sure to avoid her eyes until she turned off the Long Road and away from my stand. Some sales are simply not worth the effort.This of course does not take into account that, as I understand it, Wood Elves typically do not avail themselves of urban wares. As she walked off in a direction away from me I did note that she seemed to be looking for something. Perhaps she’d come to Red Larch to meet up with others of her order or enclave, or was here to assess if we took into account our natural surroundings. I’m not sure how well the city Red Larch would hold up to the scrutiny of any order attuned to the natural world, but I hope for our sakes that we are doing our best to not gain any natural ire. I watched her as she passed beyond the buildings out of sight, hoping that her present inaction would indicate that she would not take issue with our town in any physically substantial methods. Assured that she would not act in any undue manner, at least not presently, I returned to my task of readying my stall.My busy-making soon completed, I used my excellent vantage point up and down the Long Road to get a better view of the cart on the Northern approach. I could see, even at this distance, that this was no human or elf-made cart. The build and frame were all made with a form of elegance and ostentatiousness that had never graced our humble town. It rode low on its axles, like a great weight was contained within. It stopped just at the entrance to the town and when it’s passenger emerged, the whole cart seemed to lift back up to a more regal stature. It’s passenger, large in silhouette, stood by as the cart retreated back North.Shining and shimmering; at first various reflections made it difficult to recognize what I was looking at - I thought it must be full-body mail of some sort, but I was wrong. As it approached, so too did the realization that it was a hulking dragon man.I should note that Dragonborn exist in the Sword Mountains, or at least that’s what people have said - travelers, mostly - but never had one entered the town before. We didn’t know if this was a reflection of their culture or ours, but here, on that very day, a copper Dragonborn in full plate armor walked into town, having exited a very elaborate and rich-looking wagon.A wagon that had abandoned it.For a moment, I had lost track of my situation, so enraptured by the sight of such a rare and curious guest. Copper scales so vibrantly reflecting the full midday sun, clad in armor expertly crafted for a creature of just such a build. Dragonborn, as I heard of it, were proud and vigilant creatures. But I had also heard that they did not have tails, and yet this very tall creature - I honestly could not tell, at that time, if it was a male or female, having no experience one way or the other - had such a strong and intimidating tail as a part of it’s form. This was no run of the mill Dragonborn descendant - no, this creature had purpose, had value, had a history completely unknown.By the time I remembered to begin hawking my wares, this resplendent being had turned down a nearby road and already headed out of my reach. I had a moment’s disappointment before realizing that this Dragonborn, and in fact the Wood Elf before it, were both heading in the direction of Dran and Coutrier itself. In fact, were they not also heading in the direction of the object that had fallen from the floating ship?The object we had, in our excitement, forgotten to investigate.Here I stood, having committed two consecutive counts of disappointing innaction. Surely a third would be some ill-omen for myself and my business. I watched this creature, the tail the last thing I saw of it, disappear down the road and away from me. I attempted to consoled myself, and quietly vowed there would not be a third such transgression.Perhaps these unusual strangers were here to acquire that very item? Was this a part of Prophetess’ son’s line of work? I was curious, but knew that the time for the tales would come at evening, after myself and my fellow shopkeepers closed our doors for the evening.
Having taken a moment to observe these two strangers on their precise paths yonder, I had decided that it was time to move my cart to a place with better access to evening shade, knowing that the sun would soon begin it’s skyward decline. As I began to relocate my cart, I saw a small, ancient looking Halfling woman approaching from the South. She was gleeful and pleasant. I was about to ask her if she needed any assistance finding her way, when she seemed to see what she was looking for down an alley and began to troddle off that way, uncannily spry for one her age. As she walked off, I could have sworn I’d seen her twirling a crossbolt bow in one hand before tucking it into her satchel.I instantly hoped that this would not count as my third consecutive innaction. Surely preparing to move my cart have broken that pattern, yes?Now, I should say that I’m not intrinsically familiar with the ways of Halfling culture, but I do know they tend to pride family and familial relations quite above many other aspects of the world. To see such an elderly woman traveling by herself was indeed a curiosity. I had made a note to myself to find Reegis later in the day - a friend who prided himself on non-Larchian societal knowledge - for any information about any Halfling customs that would make it likely for such an elderly woman to travel alone, and in such good health and spirits as this one. I never did end up asking him, though, as he’d been out of town until a few weeks after the answer no longer seemed necessary. It was a very odd day to say the absolute least.When night finally approached, I realized I had seen no additional trace of these interesting strangers, neither leaving nor entering town by the main thoroughfare. Perhaps they had left through the Cairn Road or Larch Pass? And so, when my son came and helped me to close up the stall, I informed him that I would not be staying at home for dinner. We wheeled the cart into the shed against our house, restocked the storage bins, and then my partner and I headed off to a tavern to spin the gossip web with our regular companions.There was not much information to be learned of the other newcomers, as several of our friends had seen them walk down the road towards the Dran and Courtier with a purpose. One person had mentioned seeing the elderly halfling enter the Dran and Courtier, passing by the aforementioned Wood Elf and another person standing just out of sight in the alley. She was certain she had heard a sound, like a pop or a click as the Halfling crossed the threshold, but when she looked back, nothing seemed out of place, so she simply continued on her errand.The most astounding information came to us though my friend Amol, who in turn had heard about it though a patron traveling through his shop earlier that day. This traveler had witnessed the object fall from that floating boat from a much closer vantage than anyone else we knew. We were desperate for details directly from the source, but Amol informed us that the traveler had left town many hours prior. Instead, Amol would do his part to recount to us what the traveler claimed to have witnessed. He expressed that, from this traveler’s position, it appeared as a cloak or fabric wrapped around some large duffel - or in the worst case, a body. The blue fabric had whipped around in the wind, making the trajectory plain. The resultant crunch in the alley had made the landing zone impossible to miss.Amol had asked this patron if he’d deigned to investigate. At first, Amol said, the patron looked hesitant to answer. I know Amol, and I speak both fondly and accusingly about his charm, so it was no surprise that he was able to get more information out of this wandering soul.This traveler, Eniq, had ventured to find the drop location, deep in an alley near the Dran and Courtier. Amol recounted that Eniq struggled for a bit to find any hint of that rich blue fabric he’d seen descending from above. A recent storm had left this rather derelict alley all the more worse for wear, and so he struggled to see much all besides brown and moisture. When he did finally find the rich color he sought and the form it was attached to, he felt the color drain from his face, Amol recounted in the words of Eniq. At first, it seems, Eniq had thought it a rather dark-skinned Moon Elf, and went to enter the alley to check on this stationary body. It was fortunate for this Eniq that he had not fully entered the alley, as this figure - not, indeed, dead! - rose to its feet. As he watched this man struggle to his feet, grasping and clawing at the wall, he managed just the barest glimpse at the man's eyes. At first he saw no color in them, and then he realized, what it was.Red.The only elves with eyes like that are Drow, said Amol, this time as himself, and not Eniq. We all were shocked. A Drow? But they are not of a skin-color to be confused with a Moon Elf as we had all understood it.Amol had shrugged at us and shaken his head. Eniq, he said, had been shocked by this man’s ability to not die from such a height, and had been frozen in awe. This fallen man’s features were most assuredly fine elven beauty, yet his hair was black and ths skin most assuredly a darker blue than anything possible for a Moon Elf. And there was of course the eyes, that paleness and red color so distinct to the Drow. As Eniq stood there the man squinted and grunted and then receded into the limited shadows left before true noon approached, recoiling from the brightness of the sun. Any doubt this Eniq had about the race of this man dashed instantly at his deflection from the sun.And then Eniq left the alley.Even in retrospect, I couldn’t really blame the fellow, a Drow that had been tossed from a flying boat and lived was not something any mere traveler could effectively handle. Our theory then, that this Dragonborn and war-ready Wood Elf must have been accurate, they were here to collect the remains and handle this, or deliver him to Prophetess herself.Prophetess, we had all suddenly recalled, was a Paladin of Tymora. She had seen battle, done combat. If nothing else would keep Red Larch safe, then surely the proximity to her own tavern would put any Underdark magics to an immediate and abrupt halt. The fact that this ship owned by her son, these war-ready travelers, and the proximity to Prophuitus’ tavern let the fear leave all of us. For myself, I felt relief! I had still been uneasy about my three inactions earlier that day, and was sure that some ill-fortune was possible for me and my own.Yes, we had determined, Red Larch would be safe.None of us were prepared, then, when a day later the Dragonborn, the Wood Elf, the elderly Halfling, and the Drow emerged from the Dran and Courtier in form and were seen going to Wealvr’s Wagon Works, obtaining that decayed old cart Wealvr’s son had been meaning to burn as firewood, and then travelling North on the Long Road together.When we all met that evening to discuss this most unusual appearance, we had thought this meant our strange visitors would be off and on their way, their odd connection too unnerving for even our most confident number. And yet, earlier that very day Albie had been seen posting that the familiar AI logo beneath the grand sign of the Dran and Courtier. A sign posted years ago when Prophetess’ son had posted other adventurers in his mother’s tavern.I imagine, there will be many more rumors in this town, henceforth.