Selm
Groville
Quaint… Yes, quaint would be the best word to describe the village of Groville. The term village was slightly misleading as the community was an awkward size between a large village and a small town. Its proximity to the border of Jeya and Lorbas boosted its population with traders and merchants, but only barely, as they often did not stay long enough to make a significant impact. That and trade was surprisingly difficult in Groville despite its 'prime' location.
Selm knew that trade with Lorbas was made troublesome by the Miremuck swamp that was riddled with deadly fauna and flora. Jeya and Keldanis' relationship was strained, resulting in most trade being done via port instead of over land. Not many merchants wanted to cross the tense border that had many rangers and mages observing it.
Nonetheless, the place was quaint. As most villages were, much of the population was focused on feeding themselves. Farmland was cut into the forests surrounding Groville, mostly on the western side of the village. The swamp had a ton of clay deposits, bad for growing but great for pottery. Those who weren't farming were constructing clay bowls, pots, and other goods that they sold to the rest of Keldanis. Homes were spread about along the clay-bricked streets of the village with room to spare between them. Groville was quite spread out, a strange sight for Selm. Lordidan's space was limited to what was inside its massive walls. Having yards and even fields was a luxury, one she was used to, but for most was unachievable. Here, everyone at least had room for a vegetable garden and a couple of animals. Again: quaint.
But wholly practical for self-sufficiency, she reminded herself every time she found her snobbish attitude making a return.
When they had arrived at Groville, the storm had been nearly overhead. The first drops had begun to patter against the ground. They had been forced to bid a hasty farewell to Eldrig and a promise to get a drink together should they cross paths again. The soldier had sworn that they would meet again with a large, foolish grin. Selm hoped so. Eldrig was an upstanding man who possessed many admirable qualities.
As they tracked through the streets, hurrying towards an inn, Baz grunted something under his breath. Runner, being the nosy brat that she was, forced him to repeat himself loud enough so they could all hear.
"Said there's somethin' off here." He pointed to a few places on the street and nearby homes. "Signs of battle."
"Should we be concerned?" Selm asked with a frown. A crack of thunder made her look up briefly. She did not want to be soaked and wandering the streets for long.
"Maybe. People've been avoidin' us."
It took a minute for them all to notice, but it was true. The village folk were avoiding meeting their eyes or were openly staring at them. She had chalked it up to the storm as to why people had been hurrying others inside, but the fearful or suspicious looks they had been sending them were concerning.
Baz nodded to one wall of a house, where it had recently suffered a partial collapse and had been only halfway repaired. A fence post nearby had an arrow still lodged in it.
"That doesn't look good," Inathia said, pointing down the road. The central street of Groville was just one long stretch from one side of the village to another, with branching streets for other homes and businesses. Directly north and just barely in view was the perimeter wall for the village and the gate to the northern road. What Inathia had pointed out was the fact that the northern gate was in pieces and was in the process of repair. The wall itself looked like it had also suffered some damage.
"Did a whole fucking siege happen? The hells happened here?" Runner asked.
"Whatever it was, it appears that the guard has it handled," Yule said, watching a patrol of Silver Guard make their rounds further down the street. The north gate had several more stationed than normal, at least compared to the south gate they had entered minutes ago. "Let us not waste any more time if we wish to remain dry."
With full agreement from everyone, they continued towards one of the village's inns. To their dismay, they were full up. As was the second. The third and final place, called the Mud Sprite Inn, was slightly different. Whereas the first two had simply booted them, saying they were full up, this one actually looked full.
"Eshah, sorry, my friends. No rooms at all, not even in the common area." Orla, the proprietor of the inn, was apologetic to them. She had a thick Miyetan accent and was a heavily tanned elven woman. She waved her hand(missing a few fingers on the right one) at the filled common lounge in the small inn. A few cots had been set out, but they too were filled.
Everyone that they could see was a merchant or their escorts. Likely, a caravan had arrived not long before they had and had found the only place with even a lock of room left.
"Any idea why everywhere else is being dicks?" Runner asked.
Orla sighed and shook her hairless head. "They are fearful. An attack from monsters happened a few days ago."
"Monsters? Then why the mistrust towards us? Should they not be welcoming able-bodied people to help defend the village?" Selm questioned. The more people to fight back against any vile beasts that appeared, the better. Orla's words helped explain further.
The innkeeper looked around and leaned closer to them, her tone lower. "A few people say they saw someone leading the monsters to the walls, as if directing them to hurt us. Eshah, the running theory is that that is why there were so many different types of monsters in one horde."
The group looked at each other, uneasy. A similar event had happened to the caravan, preventing them from coming to the group's aid a few weeks ago. Gnolls and orcs and goblins working together was something unnatural. Orla even confirmed with someone else that there had been a couple of ogres.
"Still, do you know anywhere we could weather out this storm? Please, Miss Sprigg, it looks bad up there."
Orla looked towards one of the few windows in the reception area. Despite it being midday, it was nearly dark, and the wind was picking up. The inn itself creaked. Even the petrified wood of the massive stump the inn was partially carved out of was shifting minutely.
"People here are a bit mistrusting of… eh… strangers. Not sure you could convince anyone to let you rest, even in their barns." She hummed to herself before shrugging. "Well, you could try the temple. Maybe Miss Illseek has room? It's just down the road. Big clay place dedicated to Neyma, Onda, and Velio, but mostly Neyma."
"Cmon, let's hurry then. Ashai ashai, Orla!"
"You are welcome, friends, good luck!"
They all hurried from the Mud Sprite Inn with the looming threat of a massive storm rumbling above them. The fat drops that were pattering down were cold and unforgiving. The towering clouds had yet to release their full fury, though.
Selm was going to give a long prayer to Velio if they made it safely into the warm comfort of the temple.
~~~
Alternatively, a very short and very displeased prayer. In the rain. Where she was. Currently.
"Knock again."
"What?"
"I said knock again!"
"Okay!" Inathia knocked on the large studded door to the crumbling keep once more. The rain was now approaching a torrent and they were at their last desperate hope for a warm fire and dry beds: an old keep in the middle of the woods outside of the village.
Selm lamented how they had arrived at such a desperate situation.
After they had left the Mud Sprite Inn, they had gone straight to the local temple. Conveniently, it was located just down that long main street. They had to pass by the Silver Guard outpost, located near the center of the village, to get there. Even they had closed up the stone buildings' windows to prepare for the storm.
The temple was everything she had expected from a little town like this. That is to say: quaint. Selm knew she was repeating herself, but she could not help it. She was born and raised in the holy capital. That was about as splendid as it got for living spaces. With walls made out of packed clay and smoothed over by countless hands, the temple had such an earthy look that made one feel as if they were entering an upside-down flower pot. Above the front entry, there were three symbols: a grand reaching tree, an anvil wrapped by a rope of hair, and two twin bolts of lightning crossing. The tree sat in the center of the doorway with the symbol of the anvil to its left and the lightning bolts to its right.
Strangely, a guard was posted right underneath the awning of the temple. Seeing them approach, he stiffened, but made no move to stop them.
Baz got to the door first, and with a sideways glance to the guard, he opened it. He paused in the doorway, blocking the rest of them from pushing in past him.
"Shit."
"What? Why'd you stop?"
"We ain't findin' lodging here."
"Tell me you are joking…"
Someone hurried to the door from the inside, apologizing profusely. Baz moved aside to reveal a plump human woman in green priestess robes, the standard wear for a devotee of Neyma. There were a few bloodstains upon the vestments. Her orange hair was pulled under a bandana, and her face looked haggard.
"Sorry, love, can I ask that you step inside? We've got wounded in here and the wind blows cold."
Baz told them to wait outside before shutting the door behind him. They had huddled under the awning of the small temple for more than a few minutes, watching the rain slowly increase in its tempo. With every new crack of thunder, Selm felt her hope for a dry place to sleep diminish.
The door opened behind them as Baz slipped out. They heard a hurried "sorry again and thank you" from the priestess before it closed fully. Selm had been able to glance past the cleric to see the temple packed with cots full of injured folk and soldiers.
"C'mon," Baz told them, leading the way out into the rain.
"What? Where are you going? Can we not stay till the worst is over?" Selm shouted at his retreating form. He waved his hand over his shoulder, signaling them to follow quickly. To Selm's frustration, everyone followed.
"Ugh!" She stomped after them, trying to catch up to their hurried strides.
"They were full of injured folk. No room for any of us. Barely room to even pray."
"Injured from the raid?" Yule presumed.
"Aye."
"Shit! That's fucking great, where in the hells do we go now?" Runner complained.
"Iva recommended we see Old Man Boros. Owns a keep."
"The one Eldrig mentioned?"
"Aye."
"I have not spotted a keep in this village? The tallest building is the guard outpost," Yule frowned, as they passed that very building.
"Outside town, in the forest. Ten minutes, maybe."
That nearly stopped Selm in her tracks. They had just managed to get to civilization, and now they were leaving? The gods were testing her patience, surely.
"Couldn't we wait it out in your tent, Yule?" She pleaded, knowing it was magical in some capacity.
"There is not nearly enough room for all of us in there, nor would it hold up in winds like this. I fear trying to set up the artifact in this gale, lest I lose a vital piece of it.
She grit her teeth and followed along quietly, the rain already starting to become a problem as the road became slicker with mud and visibility became worse. Surely, a test.
They managed to convince the guards at the southern gate to let them leave, easily, due to the guards wanting strangers out of the town for the time being, and they were practically running now, following Baz. Selm's sides were starting to ache as she began to lag, forcing them to slow their pace. She was not the most athletic dwarf; doing strenuous activity had always been optional for her till recently. Keeping up with taller, longer-legged races was not something she was proficient in.
He led them back the way they came for another minute before turning down an overgrown side path. The only indication of its existence from the road was an old stack of weathered stones.
Darting into the trees gave a slight reprieve from the rain, but only slightly. This was not the type of storm to be ignored, as the fury of its gales whipped the crowns of trees and bowed the weaker trunks.
The path forward became clearer the longer they ran along it, as they started to see that it was once a paved cobblestone road. Moss, grass, and vines had long since begun reclaiming it, making it a treacherous road to walk along, let alone run. The sharp corners they took at wet and high speeds as they tried to avoid crashing into the trees or old stone walls were more than once, each one harder than the last.
Expectedly, Selm slipped on the slick stone and moss, skidding and sliding in the mud. A sharp pain came from one of her legs. Somehow she had ended up face-first in the mud, a root scraping against her cheek. She felt disoriented, out of breath, and cold. Naturally, she had been running behind everyone else due to her shorter legs and general lack of athletic skill. Seeing them continue to run on, Selm felt hot tears of frustration well up in her eyes. Surely, this is the gods testing me.
She tried standing, but felt another sting of shooting pain from her knee. A rare curse fell from her lips as she struggled to stand anyway. This pain she could endure.
"Mend," she whispered to herself, letting the healing magic begin fixing whatever she tore up inside her leg. She tried to wipe away the rain and mud from her face, but only succeeded in smearing more on herself. The rain was washing away some of it, but not enough for her to fully clear her vision. Everything was blurry and clouded by the ground she had proverbially eaten. Loud thuds echoed around her as she scrambled for her bearings. Whether it was the threes knocking against themselves or something else, she did not know. All she knew was that she was damn tired.
"Come on, Selm! We are almost there!" Selm felt large hands grab her and hoist her up. Quickl,y she realized it was Inathia, and she had come back and grabbed the fallen dwarf. The strong girl had fully picked up Selm and was now running confidently through the trees surrounding the path. Her long, scaled legs tore through the underbrush, leaving deep indentations in the ground below. Selm almost laughed in relief as she saw the others standing at the edge of a clearing, waiting.
"You got her?!" Runner shouted.
"Yes!" Ina shouted back.
"C'mon!" Baz shouted, his scared face turning towards the clearing. A flash of nearby lightning illuminated a welcome sight in the center of the clearing: an old keep, somber and still in the deluge.
The keep itself was small, in comparison to all that Selm had seen in the capital, and it looked aged. Two floors with an attached tower that rose one additional floor higher. The walls were weather-worn and overgrown. Windows made of thick glass, cracked in places, stared out at them darkly. Only one of them seemed to have a small flickering light within. The doors were large and studded with metal bolts, showing that they were likely heavily reinforced.
They had approached, Inathia still carrying Selm as Baz supported a wheezing Yule. Selm was glad to see she was not the only unathletic one in their group. They all looked rough(all of them except Inathia, who looked only mildly concerned about the weather) with scratches and bruises from low-hanging branches and thorny briars they had pushed past.
Regardless, they reached the doors without further slippage and were able to step into the slight overhang that the entry provided. It was there that they knocked and waited, and then knocked again and waited. Shivering, soaked to the bone, covered in mud, exhausted from their dead sprint through a powerful soprinis storm. It did not make them a patient bunch.
"Fuck it, I'm breaking in."
"Runner no!"