The Tiamat Saga
The thick, oak wheels of the heavy wagon squeaked ominously, like the door to a long-abandoned house. Spikes protruded from the axles and rotated slowly as they clattered over the cobbles. The sides were solid, and there was only a small, barred window in the back centered on the only door.
A stout dwarf, clad in non-descript chain mail sat at the head of the wagon and a handful of rough-looking men wearing mismatched, light armor walked escort. Another man in oiled black ringmail sat atop the traveling prison, sucking on a wineskin. His other hand toyed with a small crossbow that he affectionately named ‘stinger’, randomly pointing it at passersby while telling them to behave. “Tell me about your boat ride to Mintarn again, Lieutenant.”
The dwarf rolled his eyes and sighed. Jeryn was his commanding officer, but that didn’t mean he had to like him, only follow his orders. The captain had a permanently disfigured nose that protruded from behind the nose guard of his helm. Hadrek had offered to fix it once, but Jeryn only laughed and asked if he meant the helm or the nose. He had meant the helm, but he had been sorely tempted to right the man’s nose in much the same manner; that is to say, hitting it with a hammer.
Hadrek was only halfway through his story of how he had traveled to neverwinter to see the water clock (his mother insisted he had some gnome blood from his father’s side) and ended up losing all of his money gambling when Jeryn tapped him on the helm with the crossbow. Incidentally it had been to Jeryn, who offered him a position with the city watch via the Mintarn mercenaries, softened with the promise of the best wines in the realm. But it had taken the convincing of his cousins Gundren, Tharden, and Nuntdro (and an entire half-cask of ale) to actually get him there.
Hadrek gladly cut his story short. “Aye? What is it now? Did I tell it wrong?” He added a little sarcasm that drew some snickers from the men.
Jeryn ignored him and shook his upturned wineskin dramatically. “I’m dry up here.” He stated, annoyed. “There,” he pointed, “Drag this heap to that tavern. Time for a break anyway.”
With a sigh, Hadrek steered them to the tavern as ordered and tied up the reins. He felt like he should say something – they’d barely covered a fraction of their patrol route – but he held back.
Jeryn led them in, prominently displaying the silver brooch and black-trimmed green cloak that identified him as a captain of the city watch. “You lot,” he addressed a group of patrons occupying a large table near the entrance, “you’re in our seats.”
The patrons grumbled loudly, but moved on to avoid confrontation with the gruff men of the city watch. Hadrek, too, begrudgingly held his tongue.
A few hours, and several pints later, Jeryn had his wineskin refilled and they stood to leave. As they did, a nervous barkeep approached the table. “That’ll be five silver, my lord.”
The smile vanished from Jeryn’s face. “Surely there is a mistake my good man.” he conspicuously adjusted his brooch.
“Oh, aye.” the man stuttered. “Must’ve been another table.”
“Right you are.” Jeryn replied. “Perhaps that one there.” he pointed to the former occupants of their acquired table. With a chuckle and a nod, he led his men back to the road.
After, they catch a young boy trying to steal some bread, which he returns
Ordered to arrest the boy, but refuses.
Taken in before his commanding officer and suspended.
Goes to seek out his cousins – Gundren promises him a job, tells him to meet at the tavern