Putting Plans in Motion

08 Newkolt 349 AC

AT WAYRETH TOWER

Shadow gets a bit excited at the news of a possible burial place of Huma in Southern Ergoth. “That is a starting point, my friend.” He looks around. “I need to get a map to this Foghaven Vale. Seen the cartographer scribes?” Shadow looks around for assistants. “Do you think they will mind if I borrow that book?” He gestures to the 'Legend of Huma' before picking it up and opening it to a random page for a quick look before closing it and putting it in his bag of holding. “Spewer, you can read me a bedtime story later.”  

He looks at Romulus and says, “They got a lot of dragons. If you think of anything or hear of anything that may aid us, please send word. I’m not sure the answer is to go try to find these lances or not. But it is an option. Take care my friend.” Shadow gathers the map information he needs and teleports back to the warehouse to share the information of the lances and Huma with the crew.

"Wait!" Romulus cries out. "Before you go! I finished the work on Grotto's armor. Take it back with you."

"Oh, he will be quite well protected now!”

Romulus nods, "And the enchantments of my personal gear are nearly complete as well. I should be back in just a few more days."

AT SUMMERWALKER'S WAREHOUSE 

Kysek asks Alara to visit House Servitor. He has her inform them of our intentions for the fortified buildings in their care. He also has her ask them about the tunnels, thinking perhaps if they are in charge of the buildings they may be in charge of the tunnels beneath them as well.

Grotto looks for Cedron. "I thought for sure Cedron would be here tending to the wounded!" He says to Lorraine, " Do you know where he could have gone?"

Lorraine looks around. "No. I do not. I haven't seen him in hours."

Grotto shrugs, then takes the goodies he acquired in the tomb and shows them to Lorraine. He tells her of the murals and the disembodied voice. He asks his mentor about any knowledge she has about what he found.

"There was a warrior named... Enarathan, I think. I don't know. It was long ago, even for me and I never paid much attention to Kiri-Jolith. My faith led more towards Quenesti Pah than the war god. Still, this tomb you found must have been for someone important."

Grotto relaxes in a chair for a bit, overseeing the makeshift hospital. As he sits, he reads his cookbook. His mouth waters thinking of the delicious dishes he could make with a proper kitchen. Thinking of food then makes Grotto's belly rumble. "Care to join me in the tavern for food and drink?"

Lorraine declines, "It is quite late and I am tired. I will go rest for awhile. Do be quiet when you get back."

Grotto then goes to get a meal and asks the tavern keeper if he might use his kitchen after things settle down to cook a victory feast. He shows the keeper a few of the interesting recipes in his cookbook and tells the keeper to hold back ingredients he comes across for those. 

Despite the great strides Grotto has made in gaining acceptance among the elves, at least the healers and the soldiers, the tavern keeper refuses the dwarf's request, stating that he would rather burn his place to the ground than allow some filthy, hairy, dirt-grubbing bearded goblin to cook in his kitchen and threatens to summon the watch if Grotto doesn't leave.

Grotto eventually returns to the hospital. While there, he tells his staff, those few who are still awake, to go gather a list of ingredients. Some for cooking, some for healing. When they return with his requested supplies, Grotto packs an overflowing bowl in his pipe and sprinkles a bit of powder only know to him on the leaves. He lights his pipe and takes a long deep draw. Grotto slightly stumbles and sits down. He unpacks his alchemy lab and has his most talented pupils help him to make more medical supplies for the upcoming battles. Given the late hour, they mostly boil bandages and make waxed thread.

Afterwards, Grotto packs up his lab and unrolls his sleeping mat. He intends to sleep in the hospital to help tend to any needs. He reads his cookbook a bit more before drifting off to sleep for some time.

09 Newkolt 349 AC

The next morning, Alara makes her way over to the Servitor Guildhall and begins asking about the old buildings. After hours of being shuffled from one department to another, she finally finds someone who is willing to admit that they are responsible for maintenance of the locations in question. She is led to the nearest of the structures and allowed inside. What she finds is a government building that has largely been abandoned. Once the chaos immediately following the Cataclysm faded and it became clear that the defenses it provided were no longer needed, the bunker, offices, and armory were...well, not so much converted as they were co-opted for use as storage. 

Three and one-half centuries of discarded furniture, boxes filled with mouldering baby toys and clothes, keepsakes that were intended to be passed down through successive generations of House Royal, and the general JUNK that accumulates over the course of years by an entire extended family has filled most of the adjoining tunnels and rooms to capacity - all of which are mostly neatly stacked and draped with protective bedsheets commandeered to serve as dropclothes. Dust covers almost everything. Rats and mice, squirrels, stray cats, and ground-nesting birds have claimed much of the space as their personal domains. 

The black-haired scribe lets out a long sigh and forces a smile, "I suppose it will have to do."

Sergeant Falindrithan, already suspecting that little help will be forthcoming from either House Mason or Shaper wakes Ra'ziir's men, as well as those under the command of Shadow and Kysek, and briefs them on their mission - to claim the old buildings and tunnels and restore them to their original purpose. 

Meanwhile, Ra'ziir and Kysek arrive at the Griffon Aerie. Elowen the Saddler greets them and bids both to follow her. The pair are led into the massive barn and stable that makes up the entire ground floor of the sprawling building. This area, by itself, is right at or just over 200' long and 50' across with the griffon stalls lining both sides of the room. Thick timbers support the ceiling which rises twenty feet over head. Close to a dozen young elves cart buckets of meat to individual stalls or brush the tawny fur of the beasts.

A rider clad in chainmail approaches. He removes his plumed helmet and tucks it under his arm. A quiver of arrows hangs from one hip. His left shoulder bears a pair of braided aiguillettes - one light blue and one gold. A second elf, dressed in the same manner as the grooms, walks beside him. They come to a stop a short distance away. The groom addresses the adventurers, "Ra’ziir Azagoth, Councilor Creepingshadow, this is Wing Sergeant Petceran Silvervale. He will be your instructor today." Silvervale nods, "Thank you, Wingman, you may return to your duties." The second elf departs and Petceran smiles, "I heard about the rescue of our people from Kurinost. When the Lord Commander informed us that the two of you would be joining our ranks... I, well, many of us, took that as a good omen. Let's go find you some mounts."