1. Journals

Session 8 - 2023-02-24

Session
2023-02-24

Letter from Antoine Rickhill to his Brother, Mark

My dearest brother,

I trust that this letter finds you well. Unfortunately, I, myself, am less than well. In fact, I find myself caught in a dilemma, torn between the obligations that are inherent in our filial relationship, and the obligations of duty to my guild, the Shipwrights. You see, in order to fulfill my obligation to you, I have assisted you in housing the reawakened sleepers. But, today, I find that I must desist in order to fulfill the duty of care taking that has been placed on me by my guild. In truth, dear brother, I am torn. 

I write to you today with fraught news. The reawakened sleepers have been banished from the guildhall after an incident last night. Sometime during the dinner hour, they apparently entered into a dispute with some of the other guests here, and behaved quite abominably. They arrived back at the hall in the evening of the 14th, and collected their letters. Both the one that you sent them, and the missives sent to the newspaper. They opened the letter from yourself immediately, and expressed some confusion. Now, whether that was due to a lack of comprehension on their part, or for some external reason, I cannot truly say. I did overhear them expressing surprise when they read your note. Apparently, they believed that they had “already met with the wizard”, whatever that means. Oh, and they were confused as to the gender of the wizard as well, it seems. They claimed that they’d already met with someone, a female someone. 

They were quite taken with the notes you’d forwarded to them. In fact, the youngest - Thiskle is is name, I believe - took it upon himself to write replies to all the letters. He spent quite some time reading each of them, and writing replies. ( As a side note, his penmanship is quite atrocious, and based upon the replies given, he’s not the sharpest brick in the cellar, if you get what I mean.) I directed him to the scribe’s desk and provided both paper and ink to respond. 

The lad sat and laboriously read and replied to all the notes. As I watched, he would, after reading each letter, take a sheet of paper, and carefully, but awkwardly, scratch out a reply. It was morbidly fascinating to watch as he battled with pen and ink to communicate. And, as he completed each reply, he would sand them, as one does, to set the ink and remove any excess. Confusingly, he decided to use dirt - not fine sand as a learned person would - after writing. While this did fix the  letters on the page, it also smudged and obscured the writing somewhat. Disturbingly, on several of his responses he also left some… stains. When I asked him about it, he replied, quite boldly and even proudly, that he was certain that such stains would give the addressees “a thrill”, as he put it. 

It took quite some time for him to complete his responses, and, once done, he called upon his guild membership, and asked that I return his responses to your newspaper. I could not, in all adherence to my duties, refuse his request. As you know, I am duty bound to provide hospitality to all Shipwright’s Guild members, including arranging to have messages, letters and packages delivered upon request. This duty, I have fulfilled - please see the additional bundle of letters, and ensure that they are delivered to the appropriate correspondents. Or don’t. I find that, having promised that I would send them on to you, I feel that I have no further obligation to the man, as to what happens once they are delivered to you. 

Once the lad was finished writing, he collected his companions, and the group decided to partake of the bounty provided by the guildhall kitchens. Now, as you know, Gerard - our chef - takes great pride in his cooking. He runs a very disciplined kitchen, and regularly fetches the finest ingredients from the markets in The Green, providing fine meals and desserts to the staff, officers and guests here at the Shipwright’s Guild Hall. So you can imagine how he would react to a guest attempting to enter his domain, much less one looking to use it to prepare their own food. The young Bostian, however, was determined to bring what can only be described as minced vermin into the kitchen to “add some flavour to the stew”, that he’d ordered. 

Rather than allow such drama to take place under my watch, I intercepted the attempt, and promised to convey the request to the chef. (This, I must confess, I did not do, to my shame. To be quite frank with you, dear brother, I feared the consequences that would occur should I do so. You remember when Gerard believed that a guest had insulted the sauce included with a leg of lamb two moons ago. His temper is formidable, and his pride is legendary. If his skills did not match his ego, I am sure that he would not remain in the employ of the guild. As it is, however, he is quite the favourite of our dear Guildmaster, and it falls upon me to “manage the situation” as it were.)

Instead, I presented the group with our bill of fare, and communicated their desires to Gerard and his staff. With alacrity, skill, and élan, they produced the requested meals, presented beautifully, and they were delivered to the group. Disappointingly, they barely glanced at the food, and ate so quickly that I was sure that they barely tasted the meals that Gerard had so skilfully prepared for them. Once I saw what was happening at their table, I decided to spend the time in the kitchen, so as to distract the redoubtable Gerard from seeing how little care they evidenced of the fruits of his labour.

It was during this time, as I learned later, that the young Bostian took it upon himself to accost two other guests during their dinner time. Instead of respecting their privacy, as a more civilized person would have, he decided to not only interrupt their conversation, but to attempt to determine what it was that they were writing. You see, we had two additional guests arrive on this morning. Around mid-morning, we received two gentlemen from the Dryian shipyards, who sought lodgings. As you know, our guild has reciprocal arrangements with the Dryian, Bostian, and even Olsbaklund guilds. Well, these two gentlemen prevailed upon that arrangement to obtain lodgings for themselves at the guildhall. They even went so far as to reserve a room to themselves, which I was happy to give to them. (We so rarely get members paying for the private rooms. So many of them, when visiting Neuville, avail themselves of the dormitory instead of separate rooms. Having a guest (or two) that desired a more private arrangement was a welcome diversion.)

These two gentlemen, however, spent much of the day in the hall. They availed themselves of the dining hall, taking their luncheon. If I recall correctly, the taller of the two requested cheese and fruit to go with a glass of white wine, and the other chose bread, cheese, and beer. In the afternoon, they spent quite some time in the lounge, reading and conversing closely together. Around 4pm, they retired to the dining hall, and there they remained until they fled the guildhall after the incident with the reawakened.

You see, dear brother, by the time the Bostian youth had finished with his attempts at correspondence, these two guests had finished their own evening meal, and had been taking their post-prandial ease. This is, as you are no doubt aware, a common occurrence in dining halls, taverns, and inns throughout Autiersia. (As an aside, we have begun to offer a new beverage from the mountains to the south, made from roasted seeds from the kaffe cherry. The gnomes call it “coffee” and it has quite the stimulating effect upon the drinking - and is said to enhance all manner of conversation, cognition and entertainment. I, myself, find it somewhat bitter when brewed as directed, but cannot deny the pleasant effect. I have taken to having Gerard brew me a cup at the beginning of my time here, every day, and it is marvellously energizing. The mornings fly by, and drag on those days when I abstain.)

Having offered conversation and had that offer rejected, the reawakened sleepers took it upon themselves to order a full cask of ale. (Apparently, the dwarf and the Bostian were determined to have a “drinking contest” for some reason, known only to themselves, and the half-orc was to act as “referee”. Somehow, this role required him to drink alongside the to competitors, and ensure that they were keeping to whatever amorphous rules were to govern said competition.) It was not long before it became very clear that the redoubtable dwarf was not able to hold his ale nearly as well as the youth. In short order, after only a few mugs of ale, the dwarf was forced to retire to the privy, where he spent the next period of time revisiting the wonderful meal prepared by Gerard - and consumed by himself. It was, quite frankly, a surprising turn of events. While is, of course, the sign of a lazy mind to believe a stereotype wholeheartedly, it has been my personal experience that the stories told of the legendary drinking capacity of members of the dwarven species is well founded. In this case, however, the stereotype failed to hold up to scrutiny. 

Having won the contest, however, the Bostian and the half-orc began to “celebrate” - singing the praises of the youth, mocking the failure of the vomitous dwarf, and generally making a spectacle of themselves. It was at this point that I heard disturbing noises coming from the hallway outside the dining hall. I heard the sounds of weapons clashing. I have been informed, by the previously mentioned Gerard, that at the same time, enraged (apparently) by the noise being raised by the two drinkers, the two half-elven guests took it upon themselves protest to the two, and conflict broke out. In short order, the two guests were savaged by the half orc, and fled, - one guest dragging the other out the front door of the guildhall. At the same time, the remaining members of the group engaged in battle - full on battle, I tell you - with persons unknown in the hallway.

I, to my despair and everlasting shame, was unaware of what was going on until after the damage had been done. When I discovered the truth - that there was a battle being waged under the room of the Guildhall, I called upon the watch. Forthwith, they arrived, and I led them to where the conflict was raging. 

Upon arriving on the scene, the worthies of the watch took control of the situation. Rather than continuing to disturb the peace of the hall, the five members of the group who remained on the scene desisted from their activities, and submitted to the obvious authority of the worthy officers. The sergeant in charge of the squad and I took the sole member of the Shipwright’s Guild into my office, where we questioned him on what was going on. 

The youth, who goes by the sobriquet “Thistle”, explained, in his fashion, that the group had been set upon not only by the two guests that had been sitting in the dining hall with them, but by four other unknown assailants. He claimed that they were “merely defending themselves” and that it was not their intention to cause any damage at all, much less the wanton destruction that was evident. The three of us went to examine the aftermath of their “dispute”, and I must tell you that I have no idea how to explain this situation to my superiors.

The floor outside the dining room is scarred and pitted as if acid had been spilled upon it. The wall and doorway at the end of the hall is scorched and blackened as if it had been hit by lightning. And there are scratches, and, dare I say it, gouges in the walls and floor outside the room where the two half-elves were staying. When confronted with the damage done, the youth claimed that all of the damage done by his group had been of a defensive nature. He cited the fact that the assailants fled, taking one of their party with them, in fact. 

I tell you, I was pulling the hair from my beard in frustration by the end of his recounting of what happened. I, of course, expelled him and all his party from the Shipwright’s Guild Hall immediately. I had no choice in the matter, after all. The group accepted this banishment gracefully, and left to find other, perhaps more robust, accommodations for the night. 

Thistle, however, was remanded into custody, and taken to meet with the guildmaster. I thank the gods that he had not been in the hall when this… disturbance took place - I swear to you that he would have been apoplectic, and you know that his health is not what it was. I can only imagine the effects that would have arisen from his rage. At the very least, he would have had one of his fainting spells - and I am determined not to cause another of those. You remember what happened the last time - I was almost expelled from the guild myself for my part in it.

I am truly sorry to have to relay the facts of this sad and unfortunate situation to you, my dear brother, but the truth of the matter is that I have no idea where they have gone. I find myself regretful that I brought their presence here to your attention, and I find myself fearing that their rampage through the city, taking place over the last few days, is indicative of their demeanour and sensibilities. Considering this, and the level of chaos that they seem to bring to the city, I would most strongly suggest that you dissociate yourself from them, lest you find yourself enmeshed in said chaos to your own detriment, as I find myself to be. 

I hope that this letter finds you well, and I trust that you will you will make the appropriate decision for yourself, your career, and your safety. Stay well, my beloved brother, and I shall see you again soon.


Antoine.

Goghea's Take

You know, boss - when you asked me to keep an eye out for these “Reawakened Sleepers”, I understood. Given their reaction to our welcome committee, it makes sense to know where they are, and what they’re doing. And I know that, additionally, you want to know what was going on with them. And given that I had not only met with them, but I actually survived the encounter, it makes sense to put me in this position. I get it - and I appreciate the trust you put in me. 


But, I swear, I just do NOT understand what’s going on with these guys. Last night, I saw four of them walking north on Deacliea Road, just south of Green Lane. They had that exhausted, bedraggled, and kinda agitated look about them that you see after a tavern brawl. And, given that there were only four of them, it seemed that they were not triumphant in the fight they were coming from. They were downcast, but held their bodies defiantly at the same time. I watched for a few minutes as they meandered their way north, but they didn’t see me.


After a few minutes of watching them, it became obvious that they were not in good shape. The dwarf was weaving and stumbling about, obviously drunk. The Mech was concerned and having a discussion with the half-orc about finding somewhere to sleep. In short order, I determined that they were looking for somewhere to sleep for the night, and I took that opportunity to greet them.


They were, indeed, looking for an inn for the night. In addition, they were looking to meet with you. I took them to “The Eager Pastor”, and arranged for them to get two rooms. Apparently, they had a relatively quiet night there, but when I met them this morning, they wanted to talk to me about “figuring out how to rob a casino”.


I gotta ask, boss - were they like this BEFORE they were put to sleep?