Post by Jarovbees on Apr 5, 2019 22:53:51 GMT
“Five gold dragons says they never make it past the first two levels, returning within a tenday if they live at all!”
“With or without the sorcerer and wizard?”
“Without, d’you know how squishy those full-on arcane types are? Bet you another five they return without ‘em.”
Solstice looked up from her pint of Shadowdark ale (served with a now-empty plate of quipper and chips) upon hearing the gales of drunken laughter from the patrons a table away. All were eyeing the forty-foot-wide well in the center of the taproom, from which the Yawning Portal got its name. She knew that much, though the knowledge had gained her an incredulous look from a fellow patron who had considered the question so basic as to not need answering. It rankled at her pride a bit, but said patron soon left, giving her a clear view of the well itself.
Next to it hung a rope-and-pulley mechanism currently in use, as the proprietor was using it to lower a team of adventurers one by one. She paused to size them up while taking another sip; their gear was high-quality but unstained or torn, their smiles easy and self-congratulatory. Either they were new and untested, or had enough experience under their belt that this lark beneath was nothing new to them. It was difficult to discern more than that, as half the team had gone below already.
“Youths from noble houses looking for some sport. They’ll slay some goblins or whatever and surface for bragging rights.” Solstice peered down at the human barmaid who smiled as she collected Solstice’s empty plate. “Word of advice; when you head down there yourself, get you a crew that takes Undermountain’s dangers seriously. The home of the Mad Mage is not to be trifled with.”
Solstice leaned back a little to cross her arms atop the bar. “I’m that obviously green, aren’t I?”
The barmaid chuckled, not unkindly. “The way you’ve been staring at everything? Just a little. I’m not saying you’re incapable, maybe you are, but that won’t matter if you don’t have a good group down there with you. I’ve seen enough to know that makes a difference.”
“You don’t think I could manage alone?” Solstice knew the question was a bit foolish even as it escaped her lips, but pride got the better of her again. She had trained, took an oath, braved the dangers of the Feywild and her native forest. Did that amount to nothing?
“Oh, gods no. Don’t take it as an insult, but confidence will only get you so far. Ask the other patrons how many people have descended below with that alone and never resurfaced.”
As the barmaid left with her plates, Solstice sighed and drained more from her glass. She didn’t think herself a glory-monger, not really, but it was a little much to be chided as though she were still a child with a wooden toy sword at her hip instead of a full-grown woman with a real one. The decision to see Waterdeep was borne out of a desire for adventure, and one way or another she would have it. Her paladin’s oath wasn’t about sitting on her ass drinking ale all day, it was about preserving life and light in the world, whichever world she found herself in at the time. But...maybe it wasn’t about heading down into the depths, just yet. The barmaid wasn’t wrong, a team of trusted companions could be vital...and adventuring alone wasn’t nearly as entertaining.
Setting her glass down, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the golden compass that was her keepsake from her foster mother. She marveled at its fine craftsmanship, the rival of any dwarven or elvish work in Faerun, even as it make her heart ache to look upon it. Supposedly, it once detected portals to the Feywild, but if her attempts to discern that were anything to go by, such magic had long-since faded. Not that she wanted to return with nothing to show for it, but at that moment, the sharp pang of homesickness was undeniable.
“Smarts, don’t it? You come in here, thinking you’re hot shit and ready for anything, only to be tutted at like you don’t know which end of the sword to hold.” Solstice’s gaze drifted over to the grey-skinned half-orc woman seated at a nearby table with a fresh pint before her, alone and slouching. It didn’t take much to see that she was bored, and yet her own gaze wasn’t completely unsympathetic as she sized up the firbolg. Solstice dwarfed the half-orc by at least a head and shoulders, but her sleeveless tunic revealed muscles that gave the trained paladin pause. If she wasn’t the establishment’s bouncer, she’d make a good one.
Solstice managed a wry smile in her direction. “And if I try to defend my honor, I’ll come off as that much more of an eager idiot, then?”
“Something like that.” The half-orc woman shrugs, then beckons to her. “C’mon over, I’ve room at the table and want to see how strong those arms of yours are.” When Solstice raises an eyebrow, she scoffs. “An arm-wrestling contest, you and me.”
That brought out a grin from Solstice, whose inner sulkiness fades rapidly at the prospect of having some fun. “You’re not worried I’ll beat you right away? I’ve got a fair bit over you, you know.”
“Pfft, size isn’t everything. I know a halfling man that makes a strong showing whenever he’s around. Never met one of your kind in person, so I want to size you up proper. Best way to do that? A contest.”
Bringing her pint over to the table, Solstice eagerly leans forward. Maybe she should be a little more laid-back about this, but it wasn’t in her nature. Once an idea took hold, that was it. She had to follow it to the end. “Best two out of three?”
“You got it. Go on now, make your bets.” The latter was said to those curiously observing the pair nearby, and grins erupted as they piled up their coin, nearly tripping over their words to lay claim on Solstice or her new competition.
“I’ll go with the giant one! Look at her, she’ll make hamburger out of the other one’s hand.”
“Nah, don’t you remember? Yagra took on Hrolf Stonegrasp without even breakin’ a sweat. That ain’t nothin’.”
“You do this every night, to get such a devoted fanbase?” Solstice set her elbow on the table and held her hand up with a grin.
“Most nights. It’s something to do.” Despite the casual tone, Solstice couldn’t help but note the spark of excitement in her eyes, and the strong, eager grip of her hand. This was going to be a close one, and she would have to stay on her toes in order to get the better of this very strong woman with a fighting spirit.
Conversation fell by the wayside for a time, as all efforts were spent on denying the other party any ground. Solstice, trying to tune out the drunken laughter, excited murmurs and other distractions that the Yawning Portal provided, grunted in frustration as her clasped hand was pushed off-center by the half-orc woman’s own powerful grip...not an auspicious start.
Her rival grinned. “Don’t go down so easy, eh? It’s not a contest worth doing, if you can’t keep up with me.”
“Who said I’m done?” Solstice shot back, defiance sparking in her eyes. “You may have gotten off to a good start, but you’ll have to do better than that to best me.”
“Oh, I will.”
“What do you think, still want to keep your bet on the large one?” One of the betters leaned forward over the table shared by his companion across it, who scoffed.
“Good starts don’t mean shit, it’s staying power that counts. I’m keeping my coin where it is.”
Solstice steeled herself and with a burst of strength, forced the other woman’s hand back upright, prompting a crowing ‘I told you so’ from said better. She smirks at that, and the half-orc woman raises an eyebrow. “Not bad.”
By now, her hand was starting to ache from contesting the strength of her equally-skilled opponent. She wasn’t able to make much headway at first, but the half-orc woman wasn’t faring any better. Able to summon just enough of an edge to tilt the balance, she flashed a grin to accompany those claps heard from outside her view.
“Cocky now, eh? But we’re not done, yet. Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, giant.”
“It’s ‘firbolg’, and--” Solstice, with another burst of energy, triumphantly slams down the half-orcs hand to the table, provoking cheers and groans alike. “--they just did!”
The pair leaned back in their seats a moment later and the half-orc laughed breathlessly, rubbing her hand. “I’ll admit you got me there! That was pretty damn good. Catch your breath, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Likewise. You put up a good fight.” Solstice raised her glass to the woman before downing what was left. After doing the same, her companion glanced over to the bar and called out. “Another round over here? This is going to be thirsty work.”
“You’re not wrong there. Alright….” Solstice flexed her hand, then shook out the pains until she planted her elbow back on the table. “Round two?”
“You bet. And winner has to pay for all the drinks, to make it fun?”
Solstice shrugged at that, not seeing any reason to refuse. She smirks as her hand is clasped again. “Sure, I’m curious to see how much you can put away compared to myself.”
That provokes a laugh. “One contest at a time, eh?”
It’s Solstice that’s off to a good start this time, making significant headway as she forces the other woman’s hand back, rather close to the table but not enough for it to render the second round instantly over. Still, she can’t resist some friendly trash-talk. “I don’t know, I have a feeling this one might not last too long. Tired already?”
The half-orc woman narrows her eyes at that and summons the strength to force Solstice’s hand back at least part of the way. “That answer your question?”
Their drinks arrive, but remained untouched for now, the barmaid placing them at a table within reach rather than on the surface they’re using to compete. No doubt that became standard practice after one too many spills.
Solstice, focused on forming a reply to shoot back, didn’t place nearly enough effort into her strength and the half-orc woman was able to force her hand further back; now her rival literally had the upper hand. “Word to the wise, focus on the muscles, not the words. Or you’ll be eating crow soon enough.”
Gritting her teeth, Solstice grunts and forces that hand back until they’re nearly even again. “Lesson learned, trust me.”
“Then show me what you got, lass.” Strength was met with equal strength, and for a long, tense moment there was no give on either end. The other patrons started murmuring to each other again.
“Maybe I should’ve switched bets, look how she’s holding--”
“Eh, it could go either way now. I can’t tell who’s wearing out faster.”
“I can--” Solstice saw the gleam in the half-orc woman’s eyes too late, and before she could effectively counter that burst of strength, it was her own hand slammed onto the table this time. Surrounding cheers and groans resumed, though the voices issuing them had changed.
“Mother of--ow.” The firbolg leaned back and winced, immediately massaging her hand and catching her breath. Her half-orc companion reached for the ale, passing one to Solstice, and taking a swig for herself. “Ah, smooth. We’ll get a bucket of ice after we’re done, that’ll help.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Solstice took a long swig of ale, shook out her hair and planted her elbow back onto the table. She chuckled as nearby patrons made drumming sounds on their tables. “To good times, eh?”
“Always.” That word barely left the half-orc woman’s lips when she slammed her hand against Solstice’s, muscles bulging as she used her sudden brute strength to overpower the firbolg’s one hand, tilting toward the table. Solstice winced as she was unable to stop it in time, though her own grip was enough to stop it from slamming her hand down and allowing the other woman to claim victory just yet.
Summoning her own reserves of strength, she tried to deny her rival any further ground in this contest. However, despite strain on both ends, the half-orc was still strong enough to prevent any reversing course and in fact drove Solstice’s hand further toward defeat. She chuckled, shaking her head. “You got to have more staying power, if you want to get the better of me.”
“We’re not done yet, you know. -I’m- not done.” Solstice grunted, keeping defeat at bay but as the half-orc’s strength matched her own, she couldn’t turn back the tide so easily. For a long moment, she strained...and was finally rewarded with a little give, as her rival’s hand was forced back a bit.
“Good, glad to see you still have some fight left in you. Show me it counts for something.”
The next moment grew tenser, as neither gave ground, prompting a flurry of renewed bets from the observers. Solstice, letting out a noise she’d never heard from herself, forced her rival’s hand to the starting point and then further back. At this point, it could truly go either way; both were of equal strength, and equal weariness.
But only one could come out of this on top. Solstice’s hand, already strained, lacked the dedicated hours upon hours that the half-orc woman’s had put into arm-wrestling and it showed in the very end, when she triumphantly slammed the firbolg’s hand onto the table for the final time, promptly a renewed bout of cheers and chats. Sagging back against the chair, Solstice managed a tired smile as she lifted her glass with the hand that wasn’t just beaten.
“Guess I’m paying, then. Though don’t think I won’t be back to challenge you again.”
To that, the half-orc woman grinned back though the way she was cradling her own hand, it was obvious that victory hadn’t come without cost. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Fishing out the coins, Solstice looked over and frowned in concern. “Do you need some healing? I--”
“Nah, ‘snothing an ice bucket won’t fix. That reminds me; hey, fetch us some ice, will you? And the drinks are on her!”
As the barmaid nodded and left to fill the request, Solstice looked over and and saw the pulley system in use again. She took note of how the coins were sent in a bucket beforehand, no doubt to prevent anyone from skimping out on paying their fair share. She hummed curiously, watching the mechanism at work. “Think it’ll be the same folk that went down below not too long before? They seemed well-supplied, but….”
The half-orc woman smirked at that, before downing more ale. “...soft? I thought so, too. But if they decided to turn tail, I’d commend them for some common sense, at least. Better to leave when you know you’re overmatched than stick around for glory’s sake...and most likely meet a sticky end doing it.”
Solstice nodded a little, not quite convinced but also too weary to argue the point by now. As the barmaid arrived with the ice bucket, Solstice immediately grabbed a handful while her companion was mid-drink and slapped some onto her aching hand, instantly sighing in relief. “Oh, that’s good. Say, have you ever been below?”
“Me? Eh, I know that there are easier and less deadly ways to make coin. If you’re after treasure, you have to dig deep; no doubt other adventurers have picked the upper levels clean--”
Murmurs erupted as all eyes shifted to the figure emerging from the well. Solstice instantly realized this had to be someone from a different group, as the first had lacked a tiefling man in bloodied leathers. Those horns, solid eyes and tail all leave quite the impression, and not to her eyes an unsettling one. The Feywild had been filled with far more alien beings, and far more deadly. As the tiefling slumped against the lip of the well, staining it with his own blood, Solstice stood up abruptly from her seat, ice and throbbing hand forgotten for the time being. She crossed the distance in a few short (to her) strides, and knelt over the tiefling as his knees gave way beneath him. His eyes, glazed over with pain, barely seemed to register her, though there was a spark of confusion that told her he likely wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not. She couldn’t blame him; Waterdeep didn’t seem to be known for her kind, and she had yet to run into any others.
“Hello, friend. Don’t move and I’ll fix you up, alright? You don’t need to worry--”
That didn’t seem to reassure the tiefling, who shook his head and choked out an answer. “It’s coming, it’s coming--”
“Alright, it’s coming. Let me look at that wound before you bleed out.” Solstice winced as he moved his hand away, noting the deep gash in his stomach and the dark blood crusted all around. It was honestly a surprise that he hadn’t bled out on the way up, though his increasing pallor told her that was likely to happen now if she didn’t act. It was time to call upon the divine energy within her, put Mielikki’s favor to use...and just as she placed her hands upon the tiefling’s stomach, Solstice and everyone else could hear the sound of claws against stone. The taproom filled with the sound of chairs sliding back, and weapons being drawn. The sound grew louder as the creature closed in on the well’s entrance, and Solstice tried to block it out as she channeled her divine energy into the badly-wounded tiefling. The bloodstains she couldn’t fix, but the bloodflow began to ebb as the wound sealed up, the tiefling’s breathing growing easier. He was still too pale for her liking when he moved her hand away, abruptly cutting of further relief.
“Save it, you’ll need--”
“Troll!” Shouts erupted as the creature emerged, and drew itself up to its full height of nine feet, eclipsing even the firbolg. As it roared, she could feel a grip on her shoulder. It was the half-orc woman from earlier.
“Get ‘im back, quick! Or your healing’s wasted!”
The urge to charge the evil monstrosity was there and it was strong, but the half-orc woman was right. Another blow from the troll would probably kill the tiefling even now, so Solstice scooped him up as though he were but a child and darted across the room. As she reached the bar, the firbolg woman could hear the sounds of battle; the swiping of blades, magic chanted, claws rending flesh. She yearned to join in but first set down the tiefling as gently as she could manage. He seemed stable enough for now, if weak, so she flashed him reassuring smile. “Stay put, out of sight, and I’ll come back for you.”
The tiefling could barely manage a nod, sagging against the ale-stained floor with a grunt as his savior turned back toward the fray.
To mingled relief and disappointment, the troll was already surrounded. The enraged creature was putting up a good fight; its already healing wounds along with those it had managed to inflict on those unable to dodge its claws told her that much, but that wouldn’t be enough to even the odds given its company. The Yawning Portal was a haven for adventurers, and that could never be more apparent than when they had reason to take action together. Bolts of fire slammed into the troll, wounding it in a way that it couldn’t seem to heal quickly. And those who weren’t spellcasters themselves didn’t seem to be in any way lacking; between blades which gleamed with unknown enchantments and those wielding them using techniques far-eclipsing anything Solstice herself had earned, she was both awed and humbled. There was so much more left to learn, an exciting prospect...if she could rein in that impulsiveness enough to reach that point.
Solstice did manage to land a blow with her blade, but she could already see it beginning to heal as a local bard struck up a rousing battle tune, renewing the spirits of those holding the creature at bay. She frowned and made a mental note to herself to get a better blade, in time. It was the best craftsmanship the Feywild had to offer, to be sure...but it wasn’t enchanted, nor did she possess fire magic and it seemed that was a necessity against these particular beasts. If the troll was any indication of what was typical below, she had better be prepared.
Since the surrounding adventurers were putting up a solid offense, Solstice changed her plan of action after another failed swipe and one that didn’t seem to hurt it nearly as much as she’d hoped. She still had some reserves of healing magic at her disposal, and at least a couple of people were unconscious, bleeding out from inflicted wounds. Laying her hands on them and channeling her divine energy while attention was drawn elsewhere roused them enough to move away or keep fighting, as they wished. Most healed in such a fashion backed away, seeing that there were plenty facing against the troll in question.
It was starting to appear pretty rough, and that repeated bombardment of flame -and acid- seemed to make all the difference as its wounds couldn’t properly heal fast enough to counteract the damage dealt. Solstice smirked, but that left her face rather quickly when she spotted her arm-wrestling buddy squaring off against it directly. The troll, already enraged for being piled on, along with whatever other reason that brought it to the surface, roared in anger as her battleaxe cut deep. Responding with renewed frenzy, it targeted her friend with those long claws, cutting deep just before it clamped down on her shoulder as well. That pained scream cut short as she went down, blood staining the floor in the process.
Solstice, rigid with fury, tapped into her firbolg heritage and...vanished from sight. Her original people, guardians of forests and used to doing their work unseen by other races, made efficient use of the ability and she tried to channel their elusiveness now. It wouldn’t work for long, or even well -she was large and in a crowded taproom, difficult conditions for effective invisibility- but it might work long and well enough for what she had in mind. Since maneuvering directly toward the fallen half-orc seemed impossible at the time thanks to the chaos and amount of people, she decided to put her little trick to use against the troll. It barely seemed to notice her disappearance anyway, thanks to the amount of adventurers willing to exact righteous fury on it for invading their space.
Well, Solstice had to give it cause to regret that oversight. Once behind it, the firbolg paladin let that invisibility drop as she swung her blade with a loud cry. The blade didn’t cut deep and she didn’t expect it to, but that wasn’t the point. The troll turned, and her provided distraction gave more of an opening for those adventurers who could better affect it. She smirked as those burn marks accumulated, and someone hurled a magic bubble of acid at its back, provoking an angry scream. An elven woman near the entrance summoned a shimmering green arrow that streaked toward the troll; the arrow struck true, bursting in a spray of acid.
It couldn’t be too long, now. As the creature stumbled back against the well, hatred in its eyes, Solstice stepped back to search again for a way to reach the fallen. Desperation made the troll all the more vicious and the half-orc woman wasn’t the most recent one to succumb to its wrath; a young, reckless dwarf had joined her on the floor. Given that Solstice had seen the raging dwarf wearing neither armor nor shield and swinging with complete disregard for their own safety, she wasn’t too surprised. But that didn’t mean she was going to leave him or anyone to die.
One of the benefits of being tall was lessened chance of being trampled, but she also presented a tempting target to the troll as well. The moment she moved to provide assistance, it lunged at her. Its size and strength eclipsed her own, and she landed with a loud thud that shook the floorboards. Only the fact that she’d had her shield up before her prevented the troll from taking a bite, or crushing her beneath its weight. That bought her just enough time, as her fellow adventurers swarmed the increasingly-injured creature.
“Move, so I can fireball it!”
“Are you crazy?? Durnan will have your head!”
“Better Durnan than the troll!”
“NO--” Solstice croaked out her protest against that terrible, terrible idea; the creature might not survive the blast, but neither would the unconscious people near it. The lack of a loud, fiery boom meant that someone of sense prevailed, and Solstice was able to scramble out from under the troll even as its claws carved grooves in her shield. She would need to find magic to mend it, but that was a thought for later.
At last making it back to her feet, she was prepared for another series of blows but never came to that. A blast of flame from a brass-scaled dragonborn enveloped its head, searing it to the bone. As it collapsed, Solstice was quick to notice that the tension in the room hadn’t eased up and everyone still stood ready, as though waiting for something. Solstice was the only exception, as she darted forward. Her half-orc arm-wrestling partner was closer and seemed to be in worse shape, so she was the first to receive some divine healing. Coughing up a bit of blood as she resurfaced to consciousness, the woman gratefully accepted Solstices hand and stood up. She gave a nod of respect, but Solstice couldn’t stay and talk, not right now. As she knelt by the dwarf and channeled a little more healing for his sake, the tension in the room began to melt away and the hum of conversation returned.
“It’s dead, folks. Show’s over.”
“Ugh, what a mess.”
“Eh, it’s nothing a wizard can’t clean up. Right, Vern?”
The tone of the response sounded like the beginning of an argument, but Solstice had stopped listening. She got to her feet again now that the dwarf was conscious, having a good look for herself at the havoc the troll had wreaked. Splintered furniture, blood-stained floors, the complete absence of any non-capable personnel or patrons...though to be fair, that hadn’t diminished the population by much. Anyone who made themselves a regular at the establishment knew how to hold their own...if not by themselves, then with a group of like-minded individuals.
The barkeep known as Durnan, catching her eye, nodded and spoke up in a matter-of-fact tone as he cleaned his bloodstained sword. “You fought well. I’ll spot you an ale, if you chuck that thing back down the well.”
“Consider it done, then.” Ignoring her groaning muscles and that still-sore hand (which had been forgotten in the fray, but the pain came back with a vengeance now), she grabbed one end of the creature. Even for one of her size, lifting a troll on her own would be no small feat...but firbolg were as strong as they were elusive, able to lift more than even their great size would indicate. She hoisted it up relatively smoothly, ignoring stares and murmurs, grunting until she had the bulk of it balanced at the edge of the well. Raising her voice, she called out.
“Look out below!” And with a kick, she sent it tumbling back down into the depths, hoping that no poor soul had picked that moment to begin an ascent. The lack of shrieks or splatting noises were probably a good sign, to that end. Rubbing the crick of her neck, she headed back toward the bar. There was a stirring from behind said bar, as the tiefling she had healed before used the counter to hoist himself back up to his feet, granting her a lopsided smile. “Well, you came back as promised and in better shape than me. Not bad, for a newcomer.”
“Ugh, not you too.” But Solstice smiled a little as she took the ribbing, giving the tiefling the last of her healing for the day. His expression was one of relief as he made his way around the counter to slide onto a tool. “Thanks, I don’t know what I would have done without your help. I didn’t mean to make that troll everyone else’s problem, but….”
“Why not? They could handle it, apparently.” Solstice shrugged and thumped down onto a stool, accepting the ale that slid over to her with a grateful nod. Her tolerance was high and she wasn’t anywhere close to genuinely tipsy, so it was a welcome spot of relief.
“Yeah, but still. Enough people died already because of that thing.” Her heart sank upon hearing those words and she looked over with sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can heal, but I can’t bring anyone back from the dead….”
The tiefling waved off her words, his light tone a contrast to his shadowed eyes and the horrors he must have seen below. “It’s alright, it’ll get some gold dragons together and hire a cleric powerful and foolhardy enough to go below with me. That shouldn’t be difficult, given this place. I remember where they fell, so maybe we can bring them back.”
Solstice raises her eyebrows, setting down her ale after a long swig. “That’s a lot of gold and a lot of effort spent on these companions of yours. They must be quite something, for devotion like that.”
“They really are.”
“If you want the help--” The tiefling was shaking his head before she finished offering, which she was too weary to feel insulted about.
“Get your footing around here first, alright? I don’t plan to show my gratitude by getting you killed. But seeing as how you’re already compensated in ale, here--” She looks over in time to see him slide some gold over to her. “For your room. A fight like that means you deserve a good bed to crash in afterward.”
Solstice frowns and shakes her head. “I didn’t do it for money, you know.”
“I’m betting not, it’s not that much.” The tiefling’s lopsided grin provoked a chuckle from Solstice as she went for another sip. “Consider it an investment, if you want. I like having capable people around here, just in case another troll should follow me up.”
“Fair enough...and it -is- getting late.” She paused to drain her glass in one fell swoop, earning an approving nod from the dwarf she revived. “Good hunting, then.”
“Safe travels to you, friend.” The tiefling slipped away from the bar and toward the entrance, while Solstice forced herself to stand. Her body didn’t thank her for it, but she wasn’t about to complain and earn derision from the more seasoned adventurers around her. Sliding the gold over to the barkeep, she nodded. “One double bed for the night, at least.” Accepting the gold, he nodded and slid over a key before turning to pour drinks for the incoming crowd.
Heading toward the stairs, Solstice caught the eyes of various patrons who greeted her with a nod or raised glass. Nothing bonds people quite like a good battle, she supposed. Passing the last table, she stopped short when Yagra beckoned her over.
“I’m flattered, but I’ve no more arm-wrestling or drinking left in me tonight.”
The half-orc woman chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll save that for another time. I...just wanted to say thanks, for the healing. Never caught your name.” She paused,, realizing that she didn’t give her own properly, either. “Yagra Stonefist.”
Solstice’s smile was tired but warm as she nodded, promising to remember that for later. “I’m just Solstice...no last name.”
“Rest well, ‘just Solstice’. I’ll not keep ya.”
Nodding gratefully, the firbolg woman plodded up the stairs at last. Weariness hit her like a wall, and all she wanted to do was collapse onto a bed and dream about the Feywild for a time. Waterdeep would still be there when she awoke.
“With or without the sorcerer and wizard?”
“Without, d’you know how squishy those full-on arcane types are? Bet you another five they return without ‘em.”
Solstice looked up from her pint of Shadowdark ale (served with a now-empty plate of quipper and chips) upon hearing the gales of drunken laughter from the patrons a table away. All were eyeing the forty-foot-wide well in the center of the taproom, from which the Yawning Portal got its name. She knew that much, though the knowledge had gained her an incredulous look from a fellow patron who had considered the question so basic as to not need answering. It rankled at her pride a bit, but said patron soon left, giving her a clear view of the well itself.
Next to it hung a rope-and-pulley mechanism currently in use, as the proprietor was using it to lower a team of adventurers one by one. She paused to size them up while taking another sip; their gear was high-quality but unstained or torn, their smiles easy and self-congratulatory. Either they were new and untested, or had enough experience under their belt that this lark beneath was nothing new to them. It was difficult to discern more than that, as half the team had gone below already.
“Youths from noble houses looking for some sport. They’ll slay some goblins or whatever and surface for bragging rights.” Solstice peered down at the human barmaid who smiled as she collected Solstice’s empty plate. “Word of advice; when you head down there yourself, get you a crew that takes Undermountain’s dangers seriously. The home of the Mad Mage is not to be trifled with.”
Solstice leaned back a little to cross her arms atop the bar. “I’m that obviously green, aren’t I?”
The barmaid chuckled, not unkindly. “The way you’ve been staring at everything? Just a little. I’m not saying you’re incapable, maybe you are, but that won’t matter if you don’t have a good group down there with you. I’ve seen enough to know that makes a difference.”
“You don’t think I could manage alone?” Solstice knew the question was a bit foolish even as it escaped her lips, but pride got the better of her again. She had trained, took an oath, braved the dangers of the Feywild and her native forest. Did that amount to nothing?
“Oh, gods no. Don’t take it as an insult, but confidence will only get you so far. Ask the other patrons how many people have descended below with that alone and never resurfaced.”
As the barmaid left with her plates, Solstice sighed and drained more from her glass. She didn’t think herself a glory-monger, not really, but it was a little much to be chided as though she were still a child with a wooden toy sword at her hip instead of a full-grown woman with a real one. The decision to see Waterdeep was borne out of a desire for adventure, and one way or another she would have it. Her paladin’s oath wasn’t about sitting on her ass drinking ale all day, it was about preserving life and light in the world, whichever world she found herself in at the time. But...maybe it wasn’t about heading down into the depths, just yet. The barmaid wasn’t wrong, a team of trusted companions could be vital...and adventuring alone wasn’t nearly as entertaining.
Setting her glass down, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the golden compass that was her keepsake from her foster mother. She marveled at its fine craftsmanship, the rival of any dwarven or elvish work in Faerun, even as it make her heart ache to look upon it. Supposedly, it once detected portals to the Feywild, but if her attempts to discern that were anything to go by, such magic had long-since faded. Not that she wanted to return with nothing to show for it, but at that moment, the sharp pang of homesickness was undeniable.
“Smarts, don’t it? You come in here, thinking you’re hot shit and ready for anything, only to be tutted at like you don’t know which end of the sword to hold.” Solstice’s gaze drifted over to the grey-skinned half-orc woman seated at a nearby table with a fresh pint before her, alone and slouching. It didn’t take much to see that she was bored, and yet her own gaze wasn’t completely unsympathetic as she sized up the firbolg. Solstice dwarfed the half-orc by at least a head and shoulders, but her sleeveless tunic revealed muscles that gave the trained paladin pause. If she wasn’t the establishment’s bouncer, she’d make a good one.
Solstice managed a wry smile in her direction. “And if I try to defend my honor, I’ll come off as that much more of an eager idiot, then?”
“Something like that.” The half-orc woman shrugs, then beckons to her. “C’mon over, I’ve room at the table and want to see how strong those arms of yours are.” When Solstice raises an eyebrow, she scoffs. “An arm-wrestling contest, you and me.”
That brought out a grin from Solstice, whose inner sulkiness fades rapidly at the prospect of having some fun. “You’re not worried I’ll beat you right away? I’ve got a fair bit over you, you know.”
“Pfft, size isn’t everything. I know a halfling man that makes a strong showing whenever he’s around. Never met one of your kind in person, so I want to size you up proper. Best way to do that? A contest.”
Bringing her pint over to the table, Solstice eagerly leans forward. Maybe she should be a little more laid-back about this, but it wasn’t in her nature. Once an idea took hold, that was it. She had to follow it to the end. “Best two out of three?”
“You got it. Go on now, make your bets.” The latter was said to those curiously observing the pair nearby, and grins erupted as they piled up their coin, nearly tripping over their words to lay claim on Solstice or her new competition.
“I’ll go with the giant one! Look at her, she’ll make hamburger out of the other one’s hand.”
“Nah, don’t you remember? Yagra took on Hrolf Stonegrasp without even breakin’ a sweat. That ain’t nothin’.”
“You do this every night, to get such a devoted fanbase?” Solstice set her elbow on the table and held her hand up with a grin.
“Most nights. It’s something to do.” Despite the casual tone, Solstice couldn’t help but note the spark of excitement in her eyes, and the strong, eager grip of her hand. This was going to be a close one, and she would have to stay on her toes in order to get the better of this very strong woman with a fighting spirit.
Conversation fell by the wayside for a time, as all efforts were spent on denying the other party any ground. Solstice, trying to tune out the drunken laughter, excited murmurs and other distractions that the Yawning Portal provided, grunted in frustration as her clasped hand was pushed off-center by the half-orc woman’s own powerful grip...not an auspicious start.
Her rival grinned. “Don’t go down so easy, eh? It’s not a contest worth doing, if you can’t keep up with me.”
“Who said I’m done?” Solstice shot back, defiance sparking in her eyes. “You may have gotten off to a good start, but you’ll have to do better than that to best me.”
“Oh, I will.”
“What do you think, still want to keep your bet on the large one?” One of the betters leaned forward over the table shared by his companion across it, who scoffed.
“Good starts don’t mean shit, it’s staying power that counts. I’m keeping my coin where it is.”
Solstice steeled herself and with a burst of strength, forced the other woman’s hand back upright, prompting a crowing ‘I told you so’ from said better. She smirks at that, and the half-orc woman raises an eyebrow. “Not bad.”
By now, her hand was starting to ache from contesting the strength of her equally-skilled opponent. She wasn’t able to make much headway at first, but the half-orc woman wasn’t faring any better. Able to summon just enough of an edge to tilt the balance, she flashed a grin to accompany those claps heard from outside her view.
“Cocky now, eh? But we’re not done, yet. Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, giant.”
“It’s ‘firbolg’, and--” Solstice, with another burst of energy, triumphantly slams down the half-orcs hand to the table, provoking cheers and groans alike. “--they just did!”
The pair leaned back in their seats a moment later and the half-orc laughed breathlessly, rubbing her hand. “I’ll admit you got me there! That was pretty damn good. Catch your breath, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Likewise. You put up a good fight.” Solstice raised her glass to the woman before downing what was left. After doing the same, her companion glanced over to the bar and called out. “Another round over here? This is going to be thirsty work.”
“You’re not wrong there. Alright….” Solstice flexed her hand, then shook out the pains until she planted her elbow back on the table. “Round two?”
“You bet. And winner has to pay for all the drinks, to make it fun?”
Solstice shrugged at that, not seeing any reason to refuse. She smirks as her hand is clasped again. “Sure, I’m curious to see how much you can put away compared to myself.”
That provokes a laugh. “One contest at a time, eh?”
It’s Solstice that’s off to a good start this time, making significant headway as she forces the other woman’s hand back, rather close to the table but not enough for it to render the second round instantly over. Still, she can’t resist some friendly trash-talk. “I don’t know, I have a feeling this one might not last too long. Tired already?”
The half-orc woman narrows her eyes at that and summons the strength to force Solstice’s hand back at least part of the way. “That answer your question?”
Their drinks arrive, but remained untouched for now, the barmaid placing them at a table within reach rather than on the surface they’re using to compete. No doubt that became standard practice after one too many spills.
Solstice, focused on forming a reply to shoot back, didn’t place nearly enough effort into her strength and the half-orc woman was able to force her hand further back; now her rival literally had the upper hand. “Word to the wise, focus on the muscles, not the words. Or you’ll be eating crow soon enough.”
Gritting her teeth, Solstice grunts and forces that hand back until they’re nearly even again. “Lesson learned, trust me.”
“Then show me what you got, lass.” Strength was met with equal strength, and for a long, tense moment there was no give on either end. The other patrons started murmuring to each other again.
“Maybe I should’ve switched bets, look how she’s holding--”
“Eh, it could go either way now. I can’t tell who’s wearing out faster.”
“I can--” Solstice saw the gleam in the half-orc woman’s eyes too late, and before she could effectively counter that burst of strength, it was her own hand slammed onto the table this time. Surrounding cheers and groans resumed, though the voices issuing them had changed.
“Mother of--ow.” The firbolg leaned back and winced, immediately massaging her hand and catching her breath. Her half-orc companion reached for the ale, passing one to Solstice, and taking a swig for herself. “Ah, smooth. We’ll get a bucket of ice after we’re done, that’ll help.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Solstice took a long swig of ale, shook out her hair and planted her elbow back onto the table. She chuckled as nearby patrons made drumming sounds on their tables. “To good times, eh?”
“Always.” That word barely left the half-orc woman’s lips when she slammed her hand against Solstice’s, muscles bulging as she used her sudden brute strength to overpower the firbolg’s one hand, tilting toward the table. Solstice winced as she was unable to stop it in time, though her own grip was enough to stop it from slamming her hand down and allowing the other woman to claim victory just yet.
Summoning her own reserves of strength, she tried to deny her rival any further ground in this contest. However, despite strain on both ends, the half-orc was still strong enough to prevent any reversing course and in fact drove Solstice’s hand further toward defeat. She chuckled, shaking her head. “You got to have more staying power, if you want to get the better of me.”
“We’re not done yet, you know. -I’m- not done.” Solstice grunted, keeping defeat at bay but as the half-orc’s strength matched her own, she couldn’t turn back the tide so easily. For a long moment, she strained...and was finally rewarded with a little give, as her rival’s hand was forced back a bit.
“Good, glad to see you still have some fight left in you. Show me it counts for something.”
The next moment grew tenser, as neither gave ground, prompting a flurry of renewed bets from the observers. Solstice, letting out a noise she’d never heard from herself, forced her rival’s hand to the starting point and then further back. At this point, it could truly go either way; both were of equal strength, and equal weariness.
But only one could come out of this on top. Solstice’s hand, already strained, lacked the dedicated hours upon hours that the half-orc woman’s had put into arm-wrestling and it showed in the very end, when she triumphantly slammed the firbolg’s hand onto the table for the final time, promptly a renewed bout of cheers and chats. Sagging back against the chair, Solstice managed a tired smile as she lifted her glass with the hand that wasn’t just beaten.
“Guess I’m paying, then. Though don’t think I won’t be back to challenge you again.”
To that, the half-orc woman grinned back though the way she was cradling her own hand, it was obvious that victory hadn’t come without cost. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Fishing out the coins, Solstice looked over and frowned in concern. “Do you need some healing? I--”
“Nah, ‘snothing an ice bucket won’t fix. That reminds me; hey, fetch us some ice, will you? And the drinks are on her!”
As the barmaid nodded and left to fill the request, Solstice looked over and and saw the pulley system in use again. She took note of how the coins were sent in a bucket beforehand, no doubt to prevent anyone from skimping out on paying their fair share. She hummed curiously, watching the mechanism at work. “Think it’ll be the same folk that went down below not too long before? They seemed well-supplied, but….”
The half-orc woman smirked at that, before downing more ale. “...soft? I thought so, too. But if they decided to turn tail, I’d commend them for some common sense, at least. Better to leave when you know you’re overmatched than stick around for glory’s sake...and most likely meet a sticky end doing it.”
Solstice nodded a little, not quite convinced but also too weary to argue the point by now. As the barmaid arrived with the ice bucket, Solstice immediately grabbed a handful while her companion was mid-drink and slapped some onto her aching hand, instantly sighing in relief. “Oh, that’s good. Say, have you ever been below?”
“Me? Eh, I know that there are easier and less deadly ways to make coin. If you’re after treasure, you have to dig deep; no doubt other adventurers have picked the upper levels clean--”
Murmurs erupted as all eyes shifted to the figure emerging from the well. Solstice instantly realized this had to be someone from a different group, as the first had lacked a tiefling man in bloodied leathers. Those horns, solid eyes and tail all leave quite the impression, and not to her eyes an unsettling one. The Feywild had been filled with far more alien beings, and far more deadly. As the tiefling slumped against the lip of the well, staining it with his own blood, Solstice stood up abruptly from her seat, ice and throbbing hand forgotten for the time being. She crossed the distance in a few short (to her) strides, and knelt over the tiefling as his knees gave way beneath him. His eyes, glazed over with pain, barely seemed to register her, though there was a spark of confusion that told her he likely wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not. She couldn’t blame him; Waterdeep didn’t seem to be known for her kind, and she had yet to run into any others.
“Hello, friend. Don’t move and I’ll fix you up, alright? You don’t need to worry--”
That didn’t seem to reassure the tiefling, who shook his head and choked out an answer. “It’s coming, it’s coming--”
“Alright, it’s coming. Let me look at that wound before you bleed out.” Solstice winced as he moved his hand away, noting the deep gash in his stomach and the dark blood crusted all around. It was honestly a surprise that he hadn’t bled out on the way up, though his increasing pallor told her that was likely to happen now if she didn’t act. It was time to call upon the divine energy within her, put Mielikki’s favor to use...and just as she placed her hands upon the tiefling’s stomach, Solstice and everyone else could hear the sound of claws against stone. The taproom filled with the sound of chairs sliding back, and weapons being drawn. The sound grew louder as the creature closed in on the well’s entrance, and Solstice tried to block it out as she channeled her divine energy into the badly-wounded tiefling. The bloodstains she couldn’t fix, but the bloodflow began to ebb as the wound sealed up, the tiefling’s breathing growing easier. He was still too pale for her liking when he moved her hand away, abruptly cutting of further relief.
“Save it, you’ll need--”
“Troll!” Shouts erupted as the creature emerged, and drew itself up to its full height of nine feet, eclipsing even the firbolg. As it roared, she could feel a grip on her shoulder. It was the half-orc woman from earlier.
“Get ‘im back, quick! Or your healing’s wasted!”
The urge to charge the evil monstrosity was there and it was strong, but the half-orc woman was right. Another blow from the troll would probably kill the tiefling even now, so Solstice scooped him up as though he were but a child and darted across the room. As she reached the bar, the firbolg woman could hear the sounds of battle; the swiping of blades, magic chanted, claws rending flesh. She yearned to join in but first set down the tiefling as gently as she could manage. He seemed stable enough for now, if weak, so she flashed him reassuring smile. “Stay put, out of sight, and I’ll come back for you.”
The tiefling could barely manage a nod, sagging against the ale-stained floor with a grunt as his savior turned back toward the fray.
To mingled relief and disappointment, the troll was already surrounded. The enraged creature was putting up a good fight; its already healing wounds along with those it had managed to inflict on those unable to dodge its claws told her that much, but that wouldn’t be enough to even the odds given its company. The Yawning Portal was a haven for adventurers, and that could never be more apparent than when they had reason to take action together. Bolts of fire slammed into the troll, wounding it in a way that it couldn’t seem to heal quickly. And those who weren’t spellcasters themselves didn’t seem to be in any way lacking; between blades which gleamed with unknown enchantments and those wielding them using techniques far-eclipsing anything Solstice herself had earned, she was both awed and humbled. There was so much more left to learn, an exciting prospect...if she could rein in that impulsiveness enough to reach that point.
Solstice did manage to land a blow with her blade, but she could already see it beginning to heal as a local bard struck up a rousing battle tune, renewing the spirits of those holding the creature at bay. She frowned and made a mental note to herself to get a better blade, in time. It was the best craftsmanship the Feywild had to offer, to be sure...but it wasn’t enchanted, nor did she possess fire magic and it seemed that was a necessity against these particular beasts. If the troll was any indication of what was typical below, she had better be prepared.
Since the surrounding adventurers were putting up a solid offense, Solstice changed her plan of action after another failed swipe and one that didn’t seem to hurt it nearly as much as she’d hoped. She still had some reserves of healing magic at her disposal, and at least a couple of people were unconscious, bleeding out from inflicted wounds. Laying her hands on them and channeling her divine energy while attention was drawn elsewhere roused them enough to move away or keep fighting, as they wished. Most healed in such a fashion backed away, seeing that there were plenty facing against the troll in question.
It was starting to appear pretty rough, and that repeated bombardment of flame -and acid- seemed to make all the difference as its wounds couldn’t properly heal fast enough to counteract the damage dealt. Solstice smirked, but that left her face rather quickly when she spotted her arm-wrestling buddy squaring off against it directly. The troll, already enraged for being piled on, along with whatever other reason that brought it to the surface, roared in anger as her battleaxe cut deep. Responding with renewed frenzy, it targeted her friend with those long claws, cutting deep just before it clamped down on her shoulder as well. That pained scream cut short as she went down, blood staining the floor in the process.
Solstice, rigid with fury, tapped into her firbolg heritage and...vanished from sight. Her original people, guardians of forests and used to doing their work unseen by other races, made efficient use of the ability and she tried to channel their elusiveness now. It wouldn’t work for long, or even well -she was large and in a crowded taproom, difficult conditions for effective invisibility- but it might work long and well enough for what she had in mind. Since maneuvering directly toward the fallen half-orc seemed impossible at the time thanks to the chaos and amount of people, she decided to put her little trick to use against the troll. It barely seemed to notice her disappearance anyway, thanks to the amount of adventurers willing to exact righteous fury on it for invading their space.
Well, Solstice had to give it cause to regret that oversight. Once behind it, the firbolg paladin let that invisibility drop as she swung her blade with a loud cry. The blade didn’t cut deep and she didn’t expect it to, but that wasn’t the point. The troll turned, and her provided distraction gave more of an opening for those adventurers who could better affect it. She smirked as those burn marks accumulated, and someone hurled a magic bubble of acid at its back, provoking an angry scream. An elven woman near the entrance summoned a shimmering green arrow that streaked toward the troll; the arrow struck true, bursting in a spray of acid.
It couldn’t be too long, now. As the creature stumbled back against the well, hatred in its eyes, Solstice stepped back to search again for a way to reach the fallen. Desperation made the troll all the more vicious and the half-orc woman wasn’t the most recent one to succumb to its wrath; a young, reckless dwarf had joined her on the floor. Given that Solstice had seen the raging dwarf wearing neither armor nor shield and swinging with complete disregard for their own safety, she wasn’t too surprised. But that didn’t mean she was going to leave him or anyone to die.
One of the benefits of being tall was lessened chance of being trampled, but she also presented a tempting target to the troll as well. The moment she moved to provide assistance, it lunged at her. Its size and strength eclipsed her own, and she landed with a loud thud that shook the floorboards. Only the fact that she’d had her shield up before her prevented the troll from taking a bite, or crushing her beneath its weight. That bought her just enough time, as her fellow adventurers swarmed the increasingly-injured creature.
“Move, so I can fireball it!”
“Are you crazy?? Durnan will have your head!”
“Better Durnan than the troll!”
“NO--” Solstice croaked out her protest against that terrible, terrible idea; the creature might not survive the blast, but neither would the unconscious people near it. The lack of a loud, fiery boom meant that someone of sense prevailed, and Solstice was able to scramble out from under the troll even as its claws carved grooves in her shield. She would need to find magic to mend it, but that was a thought for later.
At last making it back to her feet, she was prepared for another series of blows but never came to that. A blast of flame from a brass-scaled dragonborn enveloped its head, searing it to the bone. As it collapsed, Solstice was quick to notice that the tension in the room hadn’t eased up and everyone still stood ready, as though waiting for something. Solstice was the only exception, as she darted forward. Her half-orc arm-wrestling partner was closer and seemed to be in worse shape, so she was the first to receive some divine healing. Coughing up a bit of blood as she resurfaced to consciousness, the woman gratefully accepted Solstices hand and stood up. She gave a nod of respect, but Solstice couldn’t stay and talk, not right now. As she knelt by the dwarf and channeled a little more healing for his sake, the tension in the room began to melt away and the hum of conversation returned.
“It’s dead, folks. Show’s over.”
“Ugh, what a mess.”
“Eh, it’s nothing a wizard can’t clean up. Right, Vern?”
The tone of the response sounded like the beginning of an argument, but Solstice had stopped listening. She got to her feet again now that the dwarf was conscious, having a good look for herself at the havoc the troll had wreaked. Splintered furniture, blood-stained floors, the complete absence of any non-capable personnel or patrons...though to be fair, that hadn’t diminished the population by much. Anyone who made themselves a regular at the establishment knew how to hold their own...if not by themselves, then with a group of like-minded individuals.
The barkeep known as Durnan, catching her eye, nodded and spoke up in a matter-of-fact tone as he cleaned his bloodstained sword. “You fought well. I’ll spot you an ale, if you chuck that thing back down the well.”
“Consider it done, then.” Ignoring her groaning muscles and that still-sore hand (which had been forgotten in the fray, but the pain came back with a vengeance now), she grabbed one end of the creature. Even for one of her size, lifting a troll on her own would be no small feat...but firbolg were as strong as they were elusive, able to lift more than even their great size would indicate. She hoisted it up relatively smoothly, ignoring stares and murmurs, grunting until she had the bulk of it balanced at the edge of the well. Raising her voice, she called out.
“Look out below!” And with a kick, she sent it tumbling back down into the depths, hoping that no poor soul had picked that moment to begin an ascent. The lack of shrieks or splatting noises were probably a good sign, to that end. Rubbing the crick of her neck, she headed back toward the bar. There was a stirring from behind said bar, as the tiefling she had healed before used the counter to hoist himself back up to his feet, granting her a lopsided smile. “Well, you came back as promised and in better shape than me. Not bad, for a newcomer.”
“Ugh, not you too.” But Solstice smiled a little as she took the ribbing, giving the tiefling the last of her healing for the day. His expression was one of relief as he made his way around the counter to slide onto a tool. “Thanks, I don’t know what I would have done without your help. I didn’t mean to make that troll everyone else’s problem, but….”
“Why not? They could handle it, apparently.” Solstice shrugged and thumped down onto a stool, accepting the ale that slid over to her with a grateful nod. Her tolerance was high and she wasn’t anywhere close to genuinely tipsy, so it was a welcome spot of relief.
“Yeah, but still. Enough people died already because of that thing.” Her heart sank upon hearing those words and she looked over with sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can heal, but I can’t bring anyone back from the dead….”
The tiefling waved off her words, his light tone a contrast to his shadowed eyes and the horrors he must have seen below. “It’s alright, it’ll get some gold dragons together and hire a cleric powerful and foolhardy enough to go below with me. That shouldn’t be difficult, given this place. I remember where they fell, so maybe we can bring them back.”
Solstice raises her eyebrows, setting down her ale after a long swig. “That’s a lot of gold and a lot of effort spent on these companions of yours. They must be quite something, for devotion like that.”
“They really are.”
“If you want the help--” The tiefling was shaking his head before she finished offering, which she was too weary to feel insulted about.
“Get your footing around here first, alright? I don’t plan to show my gratitude by getting you killed. But seeing as how you’re already compensated in ale, here--” She looks over in time to see him slide some gold over to her. “For your room. A fight like that means you deserve a good bed to crash in afterward.”
Solstice frowns and shakes her head. “I didn’t do it for money, you know.”
“I’m betting not, it’s not that much.” The tiefling’s lopsided grin provoked a chuckle from Solstice as she went for another sip. “Consider it an investment, if you want. I like having capable people around here, just in case another troll should follow me up.”
“Fair enough...and it -is- getting late.” She paused to drain her glass in one fell swoop, earning an approving nod from the dwarf she revived. “Good hunting, then.”
“Safe travels to you, friend.” The tiefling slipped away from the bar and toward the entrance, while Solstice forced herself to stand. Her body didn’t thank her for it, but she wasn’t about to complain and earn derision from the more seasoned adventurers around her. Sliding the gold over to the barkeep, she nodded. “One double bed for the night, at least.” Accepting the gold, he nodded and slid over a key before turning to pour drinks for the incoming crowd.
Heading toward the stairs, Solstice caught the eyes of various patrons who greeted her with a nod or raised glass. Nothing bonds people quite like a good battle, she supposed. Passing the last table, she stopped short when Yagra beckoned her over.
“I’m flattered, but I’ve no more arm-wrestling or drinking left in me tonight.”
The half-orc woman chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll save that for another time. I...just wanted to say thanks, for the healing. Never caught your name.” She paused,, realizing that she didn’t give her own properly, either. “Yagra Stonefist.”
Solstice’s smile was tired but warm as she nodded, promising to remember that for later. “I’m just Solstice...no last name.”
“Rest well, ‘just Solstice’. I’ll not keep ya.”
Nodding gratefully, the firbolg woman plodded up the stairs at last. Weariness hit her like a wall, and all she wanted to do was collapse onto a bed and dream about the Feywild for a time. Waterdeep would still be there when she awoke.
