he three companions sat around the kitchen table in their four bedroom house on the evening of the third day in town after rescuing the children. Everyone was feeling fully refreshed after several days of proper food and rest. Dhohar had spent much of his time staring at the magic items carried out of the monastery and now believed he knew all the qualities for each item. It was a veritable fortune valued at over 40,000gp worth of magic items.
Zandu began his monologue: The real problem with this town is its lack of coin. I spent all day today trying to sell the stuff we brought out of the monastery. I sold a good bit of it; fair prices considering the merchants this village has to offer. I guess we are in high esteem right now. But based on the quality and the enchantments on some of our more impressive items there just isn’t anyone in town who has the coin to take it off our hands. I have talked to half the town trying to find anyone who would buy the gear. The lumber consortium took most of the weapons and armor. They had the most to spend, I suppose. We need to find a bigger town, probably a real city for most of these items, Almas, perhaps, but we would definitely find buyers in Absalom. Zandu fidgeted with the crown in his left hand. His eyes looked distant for a moment, his mind elsewhere: This is an item of incredible value to the right people. It has such rich history…older than that Kobold Tribe for sure. His eyes focused on the present again and the side conversation between Dhohar and Kieyanna.
I find this town out of sorts for the Spirit of Andoran. I had heard Andoran exhibited the freest peoples of the entire World. Their history is a mix of economic prosperity and subjugation. Repeated conquest after conquest as the Cheliaxian and Taldoran peoples raked in the wealth of the plains and forests. That is until about 20 years ago when the Andorans kicked them out and declared their independence. I would have liked to be there to see the Spirit. I suspect it is the same zeal that burns within Kieyanna. Your passion for freeing the oppressed kindles hope in my heart. But as I look around this village I have to wonder if these people are actually free. Are they better off than in the empire of Cheliax where devils run wild? The depraved acts that lie under a loosely veiled veneer are just as bad as those in the heart Egorian (capitol city of Cheliax).
Just look around us: rumors float on the wind of the ruthless Kabran Bloodeye who tortures his enemies in a cell beneath his gentlemen’s club; that the eccentric Shavaros Vade is digging up bodies from the burial grounds at night and using dark magic in an attempt to bring his wife back from the dead; that the Gavel, Thuldrin Kreed, has every member of the town so tightly wrapped around his finger that they don’t eat if he doesn’t allow it; that the herbalist, Laural, is using knowledge gained from a dark blood rite that cost her mother her sight; and that the nice woman who had founded the halfway house, Elara, was actually turning the children into werewolves. This town has more selfishness than I had expected to find.
Perhaps the one man who most cares for the people is Sheriff Deldrin. He approached me while I was out and about today. He thanked us again for bringing back the children and mentioned troubles brewing in the west. He talked of a darkness invading the Piren’s Bluff. It is rumored that Cheliax is looking to exert control over Andoran’s rich fields once again. I had heard of spies probing for weakness in the north and now he said that an army is moving east, out of Cheliax, for the Piren’s Bluff. (Piren’s Bluff is a castle type of defensible hold.)
Zandu ended his monologue and opened it up for responses and discussion from the others at the table. Where should we go? What should we do?