NPC Spotlight: Reggie Danpero

Reginald Danpero, known to most as Reggie, lives a joyful, adventurous life plying the waters of the Blue Wash. He captains one of the many trading barges that calls Berador home and ventures up and down the Wash in search of profit and pleasure, not necessarily in that order. As a purveyor of sometime exotic goods and always interesting news Reggie finds himself welcome at any table in the Maple House when he comes home.

Up River or Down River

"It's a simple question: up river or down river; which do you want?" Reggie asks with a twinkle in his eye. A strong breeze blows in his face, and his wavy brown ringlets of hair bounce and flutter in the wind. He fixes the younger Halfling with his deep emerald eyes and his lip curls in a playful grin.

"Um, I'm not sure, Reg. Shouldn't you decide? I mean, you know, you've got all the experience and all." The apprentice shuffles his feet as he mumbles to the master trader. He meets Reggie's gaze with a look of awe and near reverence.

"Aw, c'mon, Raykie, don't you want to make journeyman someday? You have to be able to make the tough calls, boy," Reggie cajoles the Halfling apprentice trader called Raykimi Cachon. "Make a decision. What have we in our holds?"

"Well, we've got plenty of roots from several of the nearby farms. And there's the salted pork from over‘t the Branloth holdfast." He pauses to think, "Oh, and then we got the hides and beef from Greyski and his neighbors." Raykie smiles nervously, seeking Reggie's approval.

"That's right," Reggie replies and nods reassuringly. "Now, where's the best place to trade that gear off for something of use here or elsewhere we can go?"

"Well, we could take the roots down river t' Darshire," Raykie answers hopefully. "Maybe trade for some greens or other vegetables; maybe even some early summer pears. The beef and pork would sell about anywhere, but would probably fetch the best price down t' Port Eben. And the hides . . . well, I'm not too sure about those."

Let the Goddess Decide

Raykie pauses and rubs his chin thoughtfully. Reggie looks on with a hint of pride. The boy will make a fine trader some day.

"Well, when you're not sure, what should you do?" asks Reggie.

"Look to the master trader for advice?" grins Raykie.

Reggie laughs a hearty laugh. "I guess that's one way. But what if you're the master trader and you can't decide? What then?"

Raykie's brow furrows as he considers the query carefully. Uncertainly he mumbles, "Ask Avandra for guidance?" It's clearly a question and not put forth with any conviction.

"That's right!" Reggie hoots and slaps his young charge on the back. "Let the Goddess decide!"

Reggie draws a fat silver coin from his purse and rolls it expertly across his fingers. The coin dances between his knuckles catching the sunlight in flashes and then rests in his palm. "So, you call the toss. If your call is right we'll go downstream. If you call it wrong we'll go up."

Raykie nods hesitantly, and Reggie tosses the coin high in the air. Raykie calls loudly, "Crown!" as the coin spins overhead.

Reggie snatches the silver from the air as it passes in front of his face. He holds his fist out in front of himself and towards Raykie. Slowly he lays open his fingers and the reveals the coin. The etched crown of the lost Oshland Empire winks up at the apprentice trader.

"South it is, boy. Now go get the others ready."

Master Trader Secrets

As Raykie heads down the gangplank and back to shore, Reginald Danpero, master trader, chuckles softly to himself. He rolls the coin over in his palm, alternating the crown of the Oshland kings with the menacing head of a dragon on the reverse. He slips the old Oshland silver crown back into his purse. Raykie will learn someday. His reasoning was good, given what he knew. And the decision to go down river was the right one, but not for the reason Raykie thought. And Reggie has never heard the Goddess complain when someone makes his own luck.

Unknown to the apprentice trader one of Reggie's barges carries a chest full of silver bars and ingots down from Dalton. The silver came over by a caravan led by Reggie's cousin. Those bars and ingots will fetch a nice load of master crafted steel weapons down to Port Eben. Steel weapons are hard to come by out in the wild and will fetch an excellent price at any town or holdfast north of the Palantir.

Raykie also doesn't know that a messenger bird arrived on the morning. The message came from another of Reggie's cousins making his way to Darshire with a Traveling Carnival from the great city of Roth. They'll be in Darshire next week. Conveniently so will Reggie and his barges. There he'll take on a load of fine plateware and silverware which he'll pass on to the Branloth family as payment for the pork.

The job of a master trader is not to buy and sell goods. It's not to move goods up and down the Wash or on the Road. The master trader's job is to know who wants to sell and who wants to buy and how to help those people with their wants. What they want to buy and sell is less important than the fact that they want something. And Reggie will be glad to provide it.

NPC Spotlight: Captain Rodrik Vesash

The head of the Vesash family styles himself Captain Rodrik Vesash. The title remains a mystery to most of the residents of Berador; Captain Rodrik never served in any army, and he doesn't know the port side of a boat from the starboard. Nevertheless, Captain Rodrik they call him. He tends well to the doings of his large family and their massive holdings. Captain Rodrik has quite the reputation as a successful trader, a daring gambler and one with a gentle kindness to those around him. Even those "beneath his station" get proper nods of respect from the Captain.

Fair Trade

Captain Rodrik, a balding and portly man, strides out of the gold fitted double doors onto the balcony overlooking the "back yard" as he calls it. He draws deeply on the carved pipe clenched in his teeth. He pats his round belly in the fine white silk of his exquisitely tailored coat. The balcony sits atop great white marble columns that hold up the roof and provide a cover for the porch that winds around three sides of his manse. The "upper deck," as he calls the second floor balcony, fronts all four sides of the house with doors letting into the library and the great hall on the front and back of the house respectively.

He stares for a moment out over the well-ordered pecan orchard. The perfect lines of the great trees comfort the Captain. The steady movements of the laborers in the fields beyond comfort him even more. As he absorbs the peaceful scenery a rumbling wagon rolls around his home from the front. A team of four heavy draft horses pull the flatbed wagon piled high with evenly cut raw pine logs. Another wagon rounds the house and another. In all seven great wagons line up behind the house, each laden with pine and oak cut from the Vesash lands.

As he watches some two dozen younger men pour out of the surrounding out buildings. Most head to the stables and return mounted on a riding horse. Some mount up on the wagons. Still a handful of others return from the stables mounted on warhorses.

Captain Rodrik's son, Dale, emerges from the massive white house. He barks some orders to the assembled men and waits as one of the grooms readies his great, black warhorse. Dale, dressed in thick riding leathers with a sword at his side, looks fully in control and command. As well he should be. He learned to command at the Captain's knee.

When all is ready, Dale glances to his father on the upper deck. He draws his sword and holds it vertical in front of his face, a salute to his father, the Captain. He barks another command and the wagons creak into motion, one by one. A pair of men on horseback flanks each wagon and men mounted and dressed for war lead the party out of the yard. Another group gathers around Dale, and as the last wagon makes its way out towards the Road, they follow it away.

Captain Rodrik watches them leave with a wistful smile on his face. Not too many years ago he would have led the caravan himself. Now he leaves such things to his oldest son. The boy does well. He'll return in about a month or so leading a hundred and a half head of cattle. The Captain will make the arrangements in town long beforehand, and within a week of his return Dale will be off again to deliver the beef in twos and tens to this farmstead or that. The money will serve them well enough, but the goods they get in exchange will do even better. Such goods can be traded later to the Traveling Carnivals or even traded back to the original owners. Captain Rodrik has a knack for buying low and selling high, and it has done his family well for years. He looks forward to continued success for years to come.

NPC Spotlight: Ulfgar Fireaxe

Ulfgar Fireaxe, the chief of the Fireaxe clan of Berador, lives in the Fireaxe compound on the north side of Berador proper. The clan holds a large parcel of land that straddles the Blue Wash and encompasses the smithy, a great mill and a handful of houses. Ulfgar's stern leadership and strict adherence to family and community values ensures that the people of Berador hold the Fireaxe clan in high regard. The people of Berador honor and respect the Fireaxe clan for their useful contributions to the needs of the neighborhood as well as the dwarfs' honesty and loyalty.

The Carnival

Ulfgar's head jerks up from his work at the sounds of cheering and children yelling outside. Sweat pours off of his forehead and dribbles off the end of his bulbous nose. He drops his massive smith's hammer onto a nearby work bench, and tosses a red-hot horseshoe into the quenching bucket. His one good eye squints behind his monocle, and the puckered flesh around his missing left eye twitches. He strokes his luxurious gray-brown beard from chin to mid chest.

He ambles over to a window and pulls aside the heavy leather curtain. A train of brightly colored wagons rolls into town from the west. A great red boxy wagon pulled by four draft horses rumbles over the wooden bridge across the Wash to settle on the village green. A green wagon follows closely behind along with a yellow one, a blue and more. Children scream in delight, and dogs yelp, as they all chase the Traveling Carnival into town. Even men and women, some of the town pouring from their houses and their shops, and some following on horseback or ox-drawn cart, call excitedly as the Carnival comes to a halt at its customary place.

Ulfgar quickly, but reservedly, discards his thick work gloves and heavy leather apron. He splashes some water on his face from the washing basin, doing his best to clean away the sweat and soot. He pulls on a respectable-looking overcoat and exchanges his work boots for a cleaner pair of soft doeskin. He brushes out his beard and long hair. Finally, he attaches the chain from his monocle to his overcoat and deposits the looking glass into his breast pocket. With the chain exposed and wearing his fine coat he knows he exhibits the proper level of elegance, but his massive arms and wild beard speak of strength. Maintaining necessary appearances is essential to commanding respect.

Ulfgar makes his way out to the Carnival.

The Brother

Ulfgar strides hurriedly but maintains his dignity. He nods politely to those he passes and waves to a well-regarded acquaintance here and there. People step aside as he nears his destination, making way for an esteemed elder on an important mission.

Ulfgar marches to one of the larger, and certainly less colorful, wagons. The great brown and green box hulks mightily behind a team of eight great oxen. The portside wall is split open horizontally, providing both an awning to shade shoppers and a countertop from which the proprietor can do business. The proprietor looks up from his work as Ulfgar approaches. His work instantly forgotten, he bellows, "Ulfgar, brother! Greetings and Moradin's blessings on you."

Ulfgar strides over to his brother and extends his right hand. They each grip the other's forearm in the traditional dwarfs' greeting. "It is good to see you, Jalkar," Ulfgar. "Moradin is kind to see you through your journeys." As quick as that the brothers, who have not seen each other in nearly a year, return to business. Jalkar tends to his customers' needs, and Ulfgar pitches in, fetching goods and evaluating trades offered by the villagers.

The Trade

As the afternoon sun dips behind the trees to the west the press of villagers at the Carnival begins to thin. Most of the important trades have been completed and people make their way to the side shows and games. For the next two weeks or so the wagons of the Traveling Carnival will spill forth with laughter and tales and foreign foods and drinks. Some people may come along to buy a new pot or a bolt of silk, but nearly all of the trading ends the first day of arrival.

Even the big trades will close before dawn. Ulfgar and Jalkar discuss matters for some time, dithering over the value of this item and that, but they quickly come to agree on the task at hand. Ulfgar sends his son Bracken back to the Fireaxe compound with thorough instructions. Jalkar's son Rurik leaves to make the rounds to the other wagons.

As the bonfire blazes near the Maypole, and the villagers 'ooh' and 'ah' at the latest extravaganza from the Strake Brothers Spectacle and Variety Show, the Fireaxe brothers meet with merchants from far and wide in the privacy of Jalkar's great wagon. Bracken and others of the Fireaxe clan have led a team of mules with a couple of carts over from the Fireaxe compound to Uncle Jalkar's wagon. Meanwhile, Rurik has brought together the chief merchants and traders in the Carnival to talk business with Ulfgar.

By midnight deals are struck and goods exchanged. Ulfgar offers ground meal and flour from the Fireaxe mill, worked steel and iron goods from the Fireaxe forge and other crafted goods from the Fireaxe compound. The Traveling Carnival will leave behind a great many luxuries and necessaries that the Fireaxe clan will have for their own use and for trade through the winter months with other villagers. Ulfgar knows that he will have items to offer to the needy and for the good of the community in later months. Respectability and honor both come with a price. And it's a price Ulfgar is willing to pay for the good of the clan.

NPC Spotlight: Vardigas Asmos

Vardigas Asmos, an ancient half-elf seer and wise man, gives his advice to all who would seek his wisdom. He helps with birthings and tends to the sick. He putters about the village and to the nearer farmsteads when he feels up to it. When people far from town need his services he will take a ride with Jadestar or some other who will take him. He has lived a long time among the people of Berador and his time with them may soon run out.

Study the Stars

Vardigas looks from his seeing glass to the ancient journal and back to his seeing glass. He stares long and hard through the tube at the brilliant white stars in the night sky. He pans the telescope to the moon and again consults the journal. A quick calculation in his head and he draws the glass lens back to the right. He mumbles unintelligibly to himself and squints in the near darkness as he scribbles a note in the margin of the journal.

He closes the book and puts it into the top drawer of his workbench. He takes the lens caps from the clutter on the bench and carefully places them on each end of the telescope which he then folds closed. Standing, he totters across his laboratory towards the stairs and the lone torch that provides a dim light far from his work area. He always works better in the dark. He sees the stars better in the dark.

He takes the torch in his wrinkled and age-spotted hand and begins the arduous trek down the twenty seven steps of his tower. He calls it a tower. Everyone else sees a prominent and unconventional steeple on one end of his home, but Vardigas calls it a tower. A proper seer needs a tower. All the ancient books say so.

The town folk love the gray-eyed, gray-haired old man, but they pity him as well. His delusions of grandeur grow with his ears and nose as the years pass. His robe falls to ruin until someone brings him a new one. His long gray hair hangs in knots, but he never stops his studies or his research except to tend to the needs of the people. A true wise man tends to the needs of his people. All the ancient books say so.

The Omen

Many years ago, when Vardigas felt his age less and moved about more, he tended to a birth far out from the village. In the dead of winter, under the brightest full moon he had ever seen, a child came squalling defiance into the world. As the child drew its first breath the moon began to grow dark. As the child screamed its fear and frustration the shadow of the world took a great bite out of the moon. As the minutes passed the child shrieked its power and glory, the moon vanished from the sky, and the world grew truly dark. In that darkness the child stilled and softened and grew quiet and slept.

Since that dark night Vardigas has spent every spare moment and copper coin he could scrounge buying and reading books on astronomy and omens and signs. Every spring and fall he buys all he can find from the Traveling Carnivals. Every season he watches the sky for new signs. He spends sleepless nights studying the movements of the planets and the stars.

Over the years he has learned a bit about the dark moon child. The child is nothing special, only a sign of times to come. The times will be light or dark and the child will reflect those times. Vardigas watches the child closely and keeps his secrets to himself. He wouldn't have any harm done to the child. Who knows how the less educated and less wise would take these signs and omens? A true seer reads the signs and prepares, but does not interfere. All the ancient books say so.