The wagon slowed upon reaching the gates of Brownsville. Farmers came and went with wagons, plows and livestock. The town seemed to resemble it’s namesake. Tall brown walls flanked by brown guardhouses surrounded the town and a brown muddy road led directly through the gates and into the heart of the town.
Fox and Pas drew their cloaks tight over their shoulders and prepared their disguises. Nera squinted as she searched the area ahead for any signs of distress or wanted posters. One never could tell how quickly news from Stret reached the farming outposts, if it ever did. It did not appear that the guards at the gate had any desire to greeting the party with ill intentions. As the wagon slowed in the mud Jend moved towards the front.
“Is it always this busy at the gates?” Jend asked the driver.
“Many days it is, we supply most of the grain for Stret.”
“Why are so many guards on duty?” He probed.
“Not sure, I is. Could be attacks at the walls. Could also be that they be waitin for you all.” The old man’s reply sent Blossom reeling.
“Why would they be waiting for us?” Blossom rose from her seat, her eyes grew dark.
“I suppose they need to pay you for bringing us back to these parts as safe as we is.” The farmer started forward in complacency. With her temper eased Blossom sat back down on the bench and composed herself. As the group traveled under the gate a flash of sunlight caught Jend by surprise. On the gate, standing amongst the guards, stood a creature worthy of the gods.
He knew instantly that his adventures with Fox and friends need not go on any further. Rather than create a ruckus he decided to slip out of sight. Before doing so he woke Arin and instructed him to apologize on his behalf and forward a check for his cut.
Once inside the city the group was inexplicably drawn to a frail old man on display in the stockades. Finding no need to disguise themselves Fox and Pas let down their cloaks and approached the sad sight while the other three went to peddle their wares at the farm bureau.
His name was Mr. Wendell T. Washington and he had been charged with murdering a woman of high class in the town proper. To put more urgency on the matter a gallows was being constructed just across the square. Upon hearing his testimony and the lack of evidence for a conviction Fox decided to take an interest in the case. This after much motive sensing and lie detecting was agreed upon by Pas. Before setting of to see the Sheriff the pair was greeted gruffly by a large olive green mass of meat calling himself Groth.
He stood at nearly ten feet tall, covered in animal skins, a bulging physique, and long braids hanging from his skull. For a moment Pas thought he saw a marking of a small yellow bird on the left bicep, however asking silly questions did not seem like a good idea with this large angry looking fellow.
“Are you the group that protected the caravan from Stret?” The green pile bellowed.
“Who wants to know?” Croaked pas.
“They call me Groth, I have patrolled Brownsville for some time now. There is lack of bloodshed in this town. I have thirst for battle.”
Pas and Fox deliberated secretly on the issue for a short time; using some form of limp wristed hand signals that only they could understand. A decision was made, both nodded their heads in agreeance and Fox stepped up.
“If it is bloodshed and battle you want, then bloodshed and battle you shall have. Now follow closely and look as mean as possible.”
The half ogre nodded and followed behind the two as they made their way to the Sheriff.
Meanwhile at the supply depot Nera haggled for the best possible price for their looted goods. At their amazement the man behind the counter awarded them 450 gold for the haul. Blossom thought to herself what that kind of gold could buy. A hot shower, decent meals, and possibly armor upgrades could be in the near future. However the man behind the counter continued to do math on his calculator. A long white strip flowed out the opposite end. He ripped it off and handed it to his associate who disappeared. Moments later the back door opened and two men carrying wheelbarrows filled with sacs came through and dumped them onto the floor.
“What is this?” Cried Blossom.
“450 Gold,” replied the man at the counter.
Arin kicked and his face lit up. Indeed they were coins. “This is much more than 450 gold.” He bent over to open one of the sacs.
The man behind the counter lowered his glasses, “we do not have gold in Brownsville, only copper.”
“Only copper,” Blossom’s eyes turned a shade!
“45,000 copper to be exact, now good day to you, I have much to do.”
The three lugged their kill out to the muddy streets of Brownsville.
To Be Continued..... Meet Captain pierce and take a stroll through the evil arboretum.
Pas struck up a conversation with the man discussing matters of payment for services rendered. His name was Captain Pierce and he had be sent from Stret on special assignment to secure matters in Brownsville. He was not particularly fond of being interrupted from his duties and he was not about to budge on allowing the trio to see the Sheriff.
