3 -- Winterhaven [Story]

Sitting at a bench in the corner of the common room of Winterhaven's inn, Farad pulled his cloak tighter around him and savored his mulled wine. He closed his eyes as he let it pour down his throat, partially to savor the warmth and heat, but also to avoid the skittish glances of the other patrons.

"You would think these fools have never seen a Dragonborn before," Madeleine snarled in a tone deliberately loud enough for other patrons, her green eyes flashing, "Can't tell the difference between a Dragonborn and a cobalt..."

"Kobold," Nary said quietly.

"Whatever." Madeleine continued, waving her glass. "You'd think they'd thank us, considering we just risked life and limb and got rid of 10 of them ..."

"Eight."

"Eight, ten, twelve ... alot!" Madeleine punctuated her statement by slamming her cup down, spilling wine onto the table and momentarily stopping the low buzz of voices throughout the room. Madeleine turned around and glared, shifting her cloak so that the hilt of her greatsword emerged near her shoulder. The buzz resumed, inaudible mutterings reaching Wing's ears.

Wing considered saying something to Madeleine, but thought better of it. Besides, he too felt a little frustration. Passing from field to thin woods and finally to small farmsteads, King's Road had finally brought them to the small walled village that was Winterhaven shortly after nightfall. There they had been delayed for what seemed like an eternity as on edge town guards looked down from the weathered stone parapets and debated as to whether the gates should be raised and the group admitted in for the night. Despite their protestations and explanations, the guardsmen were nervous and it had finally taken a mixture of pleading, cajoling and coin to convince them that they were not very giant disguised kobolds.

The guards had grudgingly pointed the way to Wrafton's Inn, the only inn in the village. The proprietor, Salvana, was a friendly middle aged but not unattractive woman and had been happy to offer them room and board, but the locals coming in for a drink had studiously avoided the unusual looking group.

"This is not going well," Wing said quietly to Naruel. "We need to find information about Douven, not get into a brawl with the locals."

The half-elf sighed and nodded. "Bide our time, then mingle." Naruel herself was feeling troubled -- she had attempted to strike up a conversation with a local elvish hunter but despite their seeming similarities in race and background the dark haired woman had seemed disinterested and standoffish.

There was a gust of cold air as the door opened. Wing recognized one of the guards from the gate, but with him were two other guards. Though clad in similar tunics they seemed larger in girth and had a tougher look to them. The room grew quiet once again.

"Lord Ernest Padraig, protector of Winterhaven," one of the guards announced. People rose, men taking off their hats and women curtseying as a tall, broad shouldered but slightly paunchy brown haired man entered. His clothes were ornate, but Wing also noted that they were loose enough to cover armor and that the hilt of his sword was worn and used, as if it had seen use. Salvana's greeting was met with a polite but cool acknowledgement.

Wing was not surprised when Lord Padraig and his retinue walked over to their table.

"Greetings," Lord Padraig said. "Welcome to Winterhaven. May we speak outside, in private?" It was clear from his tone that it was not a request.

* * * *

Standing outside there were more guardsmen.

"We have no ill intent," began Naruel.

"I do not believe you do. However, as you might suspect, it is not often that a Dragonman bearing the crest of Bahamut, a half-elven ranger, a swordswoman and an Easterner bearing a wizard's staff visit us. Who are you and what is your business here?"

Wing considered whether it was more appropriate for Farad, as the person entrusted with the task, or Naruel, as Madeleine and his leader, ought to represent the group. But before either spoke he realized Madeleine had stepped forward and grabbed the man's hand.

"I am Madeleine Attleborough, third child of Sir Humbert Attleborough, second nephew of Evan Wallstone, commander of armored horse at the 1st battle of Dire Fields. I am the veteran of many battles despite my youth and beauty. In fact, I am assistant guard captain to the town of Woodsbridge."

More like assistant to the guard captain, Wing thought to himself, though he stayed silent. Naruel's face was impassive but Wing could see the slight twitch above her right eye that indicated extreme irritation.

"I travel with Naruel, a half-elven ranger and daughter of Alastair the sage of Woodsbridge, whose fragile fairy like form belies her deadly nature. We are accompanying Farad, a valiant paladin of Bahamut who means no harm despite his monstrous visage, on a mission from his order. We also bring with us Wing Lung, Alastair's apprentice and a skilled mage despite his child-like appearance."

Now Wing was extremely irritated.

"Not six hours ago, we slew nearly a score of foul kobolds that will no longer plague you. We hope you can find it in your generous heart to allow us to rest in your town and allow us to aid our friend in fulfilling his divine mission. We seek a historian named ... um ...."

Wing inwardly groaned. "Douven Staul," hissed Farad in a low voice.

"Douven Staul. We are deeply pleased to make your acquaintance," Madeleine concluded with a sweeping flourish of her hand and a deep bow.

Lord Padraig stared thoughtfully at Madeleine for a long moment, then let out a hearty laugh. "Well, Assistant Guard Captain Attleborough, I am glad to meet you and honored to meet the daughter of the 2nd nephew of Evan Wallstone, who I confess I do not know but who was clearly very important at such a historic battle. While you and your friends are unusual I will not deny that if you have indeed slain twenty kobolds that you have done us a great service."

"If what I know of kobolds is true, then I am afraid we are unlikely to have killed them all. They lair in dark places and travel in greater numbers than the EIGHT we slew," Naruel said coolly, icy blue eyes gazing directly at Madeleine, who was studiously avoiding her glance

Lord Padraig sighed. "That is true, I am afraid," he nodded in assent. "These creatures vex us greatly and grow bolder by the day. Come, let us go inside and have a drink and we can talk of happier things and see perhaps how we might assist you in your ... divine mission. Perhaps we can find some mutually agreeable arrangements." Lord Padraig gestured and the guard dispersed save for his two bodyguards.

Together they re-entered Wrafton's Inn.

* * *

The stone stairway leading to the lower level of the ruined keep was shrouded in a darkness that the poorly lit torches in the chamber below barely allayed, but the dark red eyes of the guards could see in darkness better than any human and their large pointed ears could detect the softest of sounds. As a figure swiftly descended, the two hulking humanoid creatures noticed and barred the way, shields raised, weapons ready.

"Shadow seeks shadow!"

"And life fails in the dark!" hissed the figure in return. The guards paused, then stepped back. The figure stepped into the dimly lit chamber.

"What brings you here, filthy spy," spat one of the guards in heavily accented Common.

"Tell Kalarel I bring news -- there are strangers in town that might merit ... attention."