The storm raged, the roads were almost impassible, the farmers invited Kormwind and his party to stay for the night. The house was small, but warm and pleasant. Everything was very plain, but very well loved. Horses safe in the barn, everyone spending time with the poor farmers, but this relaxing place, cramped as it was, was more peaceful that then strains of "upper crust" society at the Inns of the elite. -- Anon Guest
[AN: This could be an expansion-pack chapter in A Devil's Tale if I wanted it to be]
It was early for the Autumn downpour. Two days away from Loudfalls proper and miles from anything that called itself civilisation. Allegedly or not. Their options were cold camping or finding somewhere they could at least build a fire and string up their wet clothes.
Then came a voice in the night. "Hoy! Travellers, hoy! Come in out th' wet!"
Gods know how they spotted this group. Kosh had been using his darksight to navigate the road east. Maybe they were in the habit of watching the roads in the evening. Their lantern was a spot of gold in the greys of night, and it coloured in an otherwise normal human being on the step of an otherwise normal farmhouse.
Better than a cold camp, at least.
Kosh checked his weapons out of well-worn habit, making certain they were ready to use if this turned out to be a trap. Whoever they were, they probably weren't prepared to take on seven well-armed Adventurers. All right. Six well-armed Adventurers and one technically-baby brother who might be able to hold his own if it came to a battle.
Kosh still hadn't forgiven Spitebane for spending the lives of his guardian squadron on a foolish quest down the wrong tunnels of Deepwater's Undercity. The only warning he gave his crew - and his brother - was, "Be ready." Then he turned his piebald to the light and kept an eye out for movement.
What he found instead was a humble farmer with a generous umbrella and a roomy barn. Ze helped brush down the horses and feed them, and stopped them all heading up to the loft.
"It's all hay and rats up there. Nay. My hearth's less drafty and there's space enough for all of you. Even you m'lord."
Kosh had his brother so trained that Spitebane reflexively said, "I'm not your lord." Then his brain caught up with his mouth and he added, "Thank you for your hospitality, kind sir."
The house itself was spacious in its way. Enough room at least for Adventurers and their bedrolls. Or, in the case of Kosh, his meditation mat. There was a line for their wet clothing and hot rocks to use for their warmth.
And stirring the cauldron of stew was the reason this farmer wasn't alarmed to have this assortment of colourful characters under hir roof.
A Hellkin, probably about twelve-ish, and a half-Orc of maybe five, who had to stand on a stool to 'help' their sibling with the task. The Hellkin was more the stereotypical model, red of skin, curling horns, and wary, red eyes that watched them all. They relaxed when they saw Kosh.
"Hallo, kleinen," he bowed, but since he was wringing out his hair, he couldn't give the courtier's flourish he usually did. "We won't harm your Rennie."
They each got a blanket to disrobe under, and servicable shirts and braies to replace their formally-soaked decency. Kosh kept the blanket as a kind of cloak over the bries. The latter had to be fastened under his tail. "Don't worry about feeding me, Herr Bauer. I have rations."
"Kosh is paranoid," added Lapis. "It's his way."
"Don't ask," said Segen. "I asked and regretted asking. Suffice to say, he has his reasons."
Kosh resumed his joyless grin. "Very good reasons," he said, tapping a horn. He had a slightly more genuine one for his little 'nibling'. "The world is crueller than your Rennie, meine nibling. Have you had the talk yet?"
They shook their head.
So that was his duty now. "There are generally two ways to go when the world hates you for how you look. Either be everything they say you are and worse, thus making them point at you as proof... or try your heart and soul away in proving them wrong, but you have to listen anyway. Or be, one of the good ones. If you find a secret third way, more power to you."
Rauchig felt compelled to chip in. "He says what they're going to say first and grins as they stumble over themselves."
"At least my way is fun for me," said Kosh.
The farmer, dishing out stew into wooden trenchers, asked, "Would you like the bed, m'lo-- sir?" of Spitebane.
"Thank you, but I am learning humility, this journey," Spitebane glared at Kosh, briefly. "Your family is welcome to keep the bed. I must suffice with my bedroll. Thank you." All unthinking, he took a gold coin out of his pouch.
"Sir, that isn't necessary," objected the farmer.
At the same time Kosh said, "Are you trying to get them killed?"
Spitebane held onto the coin. "I... don't understand."
"A farmer in the middle of nowhere with one gold coin? Either a lord thinks they stole it or other Adventurers think they know where more is. It's a recipe for disaster. Gift silver if you must. Not gold."
Spitebane spent most of the evening staring at that gold coin in horror and regret.
[Photo by Roman Manshin on Unsplash]
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