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− | <p>Legacy of the Green Regent</p> |
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[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7CFKUjSGEo ''Opening theme song''] |
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7CFKUjSGEo ''Opening theme song''] |
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|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 14:55, 10 September 2021 (UTC)}} |
|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 14:55, 10 September 2021 (UTC)}} |
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− | <div style="text-align:right">last seventhday of Summertide<br />(Or was it sixthday or eighthday today? I do not even know anymore....)</div> |
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− | {{Forum post| |
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− | I like the halfling merchant leader most amongst all the strangers in this band of misfits. |
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− | I cannot say that I have spoken a solitary word to him, but I can tell from his face that he has suffered loss of the same kind as I. The man smiles at us constantly, and I can see that every one of them is a lie. I can also see the determination in his countenance, though I do not know what it is for. |
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− | It matters little to me. I am just along for this ride. |
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− | Nothing particularly interesting happened today. The plant growth here along the river valley is lush and green, and something about the emerald rays shining through the leaves offers some comfort to me, though I do not accept it as a true gift. I can admire the beauty of it without thinking that the gods ordained it for my pleasure. It is happenstance, a natural occurance of the way the sun shines through Toril's skies. It is as mundane as every potion I have ever brewed. |
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− | Yesterday, I first noticed one of the other travelers with us. It terrified me at first, because I saw curly red hair atop a short stature and thought that it was Sili come to haunt me. I am beginning to see them everywhere. I pinched myself to find that I was not having a vision, but then the figure turned. It was another halfling, probably another merchant, but I have no real idea. |
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− | I cannot read Korr. How is it that I can read this halfling caravan leader better than my own brother? How is it that we grew up together, yet I cannot interpret his facial expressions? I want to talk to him about home, but I do not know how to begin. I hope that the fact that I accompanied him on this journey conveys to him that I do not blame him for what happened. If anyone, I blame his god. |
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− | I wonder sometimes if Kethra blamed him as she took her last breath. |
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− | Blaz told us that we are to reach a campsite by nightfall, and the light is already dimming and making it hard to write. I also have but two sheets of paper left to spare, so I shall put down my pen.... |
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''To hit Gvrag: '''1''' + 3 <nowiki>=</nowiki> <u>4</u>''|[[User:Ir'revrykal/Characters/Samophlange|Samophlange]]}} |
''To hit Gvrag: '''1''' + 3 <nowiki>=</nowiki> <u>4</u>''|[[User:Ir'revrykal/Characters/Samophlange|Samophlange]]}} |
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− | {{Forum post|"Did they teach you how to fight in that church hospital? Because I am looking to you for tips, Little Brother.|[[User:Lhynard/Characters/Brace|Brace]] to [[User:Possessed_Priest/Characters/Korrlan|Korrlan]]}} |
+ | {{Forum post|"Did they teach you how to fight in that church hospital? Because I am looking to you for tips, Little Brother."|[[User:Lhynard/Characters/Brace|Brace]] to [[User:Possessed_Priest/Characters/Korrlan|Korrlan]]}} |
{{Forum post|"Fighting was... certainly not a regular occurrence on the curriculum. However... the Revered Mother, before she passed, would ''bless'' us with words of wisdom, should our hands be forced." |
{{Forum post|"Fighting was... certainly not a regular occurrence on the curriculum. However... the Revered Mother, before she passed, would ''bless'' us with words of wisdom, should our hands be forced." |
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|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 02:10, 25 October 2021 (UTC)}} |
|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 02:10, 25 October 2021 (UTC)}} |
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− | {{Forum post|Juniper watched the goblins being hung up like two rotund young wheels of [[ |
+ | {{Forum post|Juniper watched the goblins being hung up like two rotund young wheels of [[Waterdhavian cheese]], ready to be aged and smoked. She realized she was starving, following all that adventuring she'd done today. The halfling asked Skar in decent [[Goblin language]], "Do you happen to have any cheese stashed away in that pit of yours?" Oh! she quickly realized something and turned to the elf and human. "I completely forgot I know gobbo! The quiet one said something about a pit! With [[Tymora]]'s luck, there might be some cheese there…." The halfling's stomach punctuated the statement with a loud growl, as fierce as any red tiger's.|[[User:Artyom.pavlov/Characters/Juniper Churlgo|Juniper]]}} |
{{Forum post|"Cheese?…"|[[User:Lhynard/Characters/Brace|Brace]]}} |
{{Forum post|"Cheese?…"|[[User:Lhynard/Characters/Brace|Brace]]}} |
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''Weather: Fine.''<br/> |
''Weather: Fine.''<br/> |
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− | <div style="text-align:right">last eighthday of Summertide</div> |
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− | {{Forum post|I killed someone yesterday, two people. |
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− | It would be easy to try to argue that they were not people, since they had yellowish skin and pointed ears and jagged teeth and barely passed my navel, but goblins have wives and families and jobs, do they not? |
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− | I would have expected to feel some regret or weight at taking life, but I feel no such thing. It is not just the fact that I was enranged when I did it, that I was trying to save my brother's life and those of the others in the caravan. No, I am not angry now; I have simply become immune to the shock of death. The blood, how was it any different than the oil of vitriol or liquid silver that I have bottled in Luth's laboratory? It is but a liquid made from the elements like all else; why should seeing it seep from a forehead as I remove my dagger mean anything to me? They tried to raid us; they died, as all persons do, and better that they die than us. |
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− | But is it better? Is it better to be alive? Why did I not simply let them take me, take us? Would that not be a faster way to join my Kethra? I cannot explain it, but still some part of me wants to go on, and I do not want to go on alone. |
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− | Korr is very shaken. He feels that the Broken God continues to abandon him, and I cannot blame him, for I agree. I tried to encourage him. Were it not for the power of his prayer at the beginning of the battle, never would I have left the wagon to fight. I envy his bravery, even in the midst of his doubts and anger. |
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− | He thinks that I played a greater role than I did, said that it reminded him of Mother. Pity I did not inheret her magical talents. |
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− | The small group of us who partook in the fighting to defend the caravan now find ourselves about to embark on a little mission together, at the request of Blaz. Three of the group seem already to have adventuring experience, but none of us are trackers. Two of them forced one of the goblin survivors to spill something about a "pit of death". Once packed, we shall head back up the road whither we were ambushed, thence to attempt to track the sole fleeing goblin whence he came, to find this pit. |
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Korrlan had been sleeping while others took watch, but at this commotion he too awoke and saw what was happening. But he also saw the strangest scene: the clear moonlight shone on something lying in the long grass, illuminating it with a silvery glitter, showing it being tugged along by a humble [[field mouse]]. Small and cylindrical, it was the scroll he'd found in the goblins' cave, which he'd put away in his pocket. Was the mouse stealing it for its nest? Or was it bringing it to him?|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 09:15, 19 May 2022 (UTC)}} |
Korrlan had been sleeping while others took watch, but at this commotion he too awoke and saw what was happening. But he also saw the strangest scene: the clear moonlight shone on something lying in the long grass, illuminating it with a silvery glitter, showing it being tugged along by a humble [[field mouse]]. Small and cylindrical, it was the scroll he'd found in the goblins' cave, which he'd put away in his pocket. Was the mouse stealing it for its nest? Or was it bringing it to him?|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 09:15, 19 May 2022 (UTC)}} |
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''Weather: Perfectly fine.''<br/> |
''Weather: Perfectly fine.''<br/> |
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+ | {{Forum post|{{User:Lhynard/Characters/Brace/Journal/03}}|}} |
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− | <div style="text-align:right">Midsummer</div> |
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− | {{Forum post| |
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− | They tell me that it is Midsummer. I had indeed been wrong on what day it had been. |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|Come the morning, they quickly broke camp and readied to continue their journey. By his omissions and interruptions, Corkuary had clearly elected not to tell Ombert what had happened, reasoning it better that he be allowed to recover and set his mind at ease, and only learn how close he'd come once he was safely back at home.<br/><br/> |
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− | Yesterday, our quest began… and ended. |
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⚫ | Finding an old game trail leading south, one formerly used by the goblinoid bandits in their raids, the travelers returned to the Delimbiyr Road in a few hours, and were soon well on their way to Loudwater. Today was Midsummer, and tonight would be a time of celebration and carousing in the garden city. |
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− | I was a fool for thinking the gnome and the halfling to be adventurers. The gnome obviously has never tracked a quarry, and the halfling has the attention span of a child. I see quite clearly now that they are as in over their heads as I. I do not judge them for it; they seem decent enough people despite their oddities. Demihumans have their quirks as I am sure we humans have. These can be overlooked. For certain, the two wished to free Blaz's sons, and so their help was welcome, even if they were far less skilled than I at first assumed. They were still more skilled for this sort of thing than I. |
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+ | But the three Merrymars had been eagerly telling the travelers of their home, [[Shining Falls (village)|Shining Falls]]—surely a sign of their own desire to return to home and hearth. It lay much further up the road, in sight and spray of the magnificent [[Shining Falls]], which they called "only the most amazing waterfall in all the North!" And they went on: "...And you'll get to see the great [[Granite Tower (Shining Falls)|Granite Tower]], and Gauntlet [[Deogol Fengrath|Deogol]]'s mechanical men..." "...And I just know me Da' will treat you to a grand banquet at [[The Ale and Rabbit]], feasting on all the, uh, [[ale]], and the [[rabbit]]..."|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 13:15, 18 June 2022 (UTC)}} |
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− | Much occurred in a single day. |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|As the group moved along the Delimbiyr Road, the wizard halfling almost pranced as she woke up in a grand mood, despite her camp-mates loudly trying all night. At the end of the day, she was giddy over the first adventure completed and in the books and relieved that they never actually faced any more were-beasts. “As my aunt used to say, nothing can bring a good halfling down.” she mumbled to herself “maybe we are just more resistant to such meager diseases, or maybe Brace is simply that good of a healer, curing both boys with such ease…” She made a mental note to detail the whole medicinal ordeal in her journal later. At the mention of all the promised ales and rabbits, her ears perked up, and the redheaded mage notably sped her pace up.|[[User:Artyom.pavlov/Characters/Juniper Churlgo|Juniper]]}} |
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− | We met the strangest creature that I have perhaps ever seen, one of the legendary fey, a tiny man, smaller than even a halfling child, with the lower body of a large cricket. The creature claimed to be some sort of prince. We requested his help in tracking the goblins, and he acquiesced after forcing us to recite poetry and dance for him. Within his territory, I found and prepared some tonandurr bark to treat our wounds from yesterevening's ambush. |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|While everyone was in high spirits at the prospect of rabbit and ale, Samophlange took the opportunity to quiz Corkaury about the silvered sword. "You said this was given to you by someone named "Dead Stein"? Who's that?" Samo asked nonchalantly, feeling very pleased with himself for being so subtle.|[[User:Ir'revrykal/Characters/Samophlange|Samophlange]]}} |
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− | Then we headed a day's walk east and reached the signs of goblins, pits filled with gore and carrion. Korr suspected sacrifices to Maglubiyet. We found a raft, but I fell and injured myself further getting down to it, reopening my wounds. Any thoughts that I had of being an adventurer ended then. I thought it foolish to take the raft, but the others disagreed. As feared, we were fired upon by waiting goblins from the cliffs along the water's banks, and I received another injury in the arm from a bolt. There was even another raft with goblins on it, but the elven woman slew one of the goblins and their vessel crashed and capsized by some miracle. |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|Corkaury glanced at Samophlange in surprise, half for anyone not knowing the local hero, and half that anyone could get his name so wrong. But of course, this lot were not from the Vale. "''[[Stedd Rein]]''," he stressed. "I told you lot about the Night of the Blood Moon, didn't I?" he confirmed, for his memories of that stressful day were already hazy. Yet he was talking more comfortably now, a confidant strongheart hin, rather than a scared and desperate prisoner. "Well, he's the son of Deldron Rein, the merchant, owner of the Red Boar Trading Coster. About ten years back, Stedd went down to Amn for an education in military matters at some college of war. He was coming back when the Blood Moon happened—guess he showed the werebeasts what he learned, eh?" he chuckled and elbowed Samophlange, able now to recall the victories more than the defeats of that night. "Anyway, Stedd commands the Red Boar guard now. He's turned it into a right proper army for defense of the Vale too. He's a hero in these parts."<br/><br/> |
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− | We next reached shore again, where there was an opening into the goblin's cave. It seemed absurd to me that we should float right up to the entrance as we did, and I can only suspect that there is some higher power at work here. In any case, there were very large rats guarding the entrance, but I distracted them with food, and they scurried away with it. Goblins shot at us from the cave, but we had them outnumbered this time, and we drove them back with our own ranged weapons and pursued them to another chamber, where we killed them. They had a fire beetle caged there, and I also recovered some vials of chemicals and silvered crossbow bolts. I had hoped to also extract the fire beetle's gland, but the foolish halfling let the monstrous insect free. |
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⚫ | Breaking off, Corkaury thought a moment, before realizing something. Trapped in that cave for a tenday or so, out of sight of the sun, he'd lost all track of time. "Hey, did I hear one of you say today's Midsummer? That means tomorrow's Shieldmeet... Ha! They'll be choosing the next Green Regent in Loudwater! We'll get to see the ceremony. It'll be Stedd Rein, I just know it; everyone says so." Corkaury concluded confidently.|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 08:53, 20 June 2022 (UTC)}} |
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− | Thank the gods, the halfling victims were still alive, but they had been bitten by a wererat sorcerer, whose spell incapacitated me. When I came to consciousness again, my companions had defeated him, but our concern was now for the infected halflings. The gnome and I wasted no time and rushed back outside to see if I could find any wolfsbane. The fey prince must have followed us, for we heard his music guiding us to a patch. |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|Acting suitably impressed and thanking Corkaury for sharing, Samo made a mental note of all the details surrounding Stedd Rein. He'd need to buy a quill and paper once they reached Shining Falls. He still didn't know what the Green Regent was—as far as he could tell, it was a quaint local title of little import. Still, he smiled and nodded at Corkaury, feigning interest and understanding. "Say, does Shining Falls have an inn? I sure could use a nice, soft bed, and I'm sure my, uh, colleagues could too. I've been sleeping in a turnip cart for weeks! I think you mentioned something about ale and rabbit, too."|[[User:Ir'revrykal/Characters/Samophlange|Samophlange]]}} |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|Juniper walked closer to the gnome and halfling as her attention was laser focused on continued mentions of rabbits and ales. “What does bring a Green Regent entail? Can anyone be one? Samophlange here is the most experienced adventurer I’ve ever met. Can he become a Green Regent?”|[[User:Artyom.pavlov/Characters/Juniper Churlgo|Juniper]]}} |
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− | Selúne was full last night. The medicine I made saved two of the young men; the third was saved by a divine scroll read by Korr. While we are not adventurers, there is no doubt that Ilmater chose the two of us brothers to save these halflings. |
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+ | {{Forum post|Brace was ignoring most of the conversation about celebrations and inns and Green Regents and rabbits. He was walking along silently in intense pain from his many wounds. The pain in his chest made it hurt to breath, and the night's rest—or perhaps the lack of excitement—had only made things worse.<br /><br />He walked up beside his brother. "Your god seems to have used you and me, in our own unique ways, to save those three little people, Korr. What do you think of that? Fact is, I never should have been able to find wolfsbane nor you the divine writing with the power to do what you did."|~ ''[[User:Lhynard|Lhynard]]'' ([[User talk:Lhynard|talk]]) 15:17, 21 June 2022 (UTC)}} |
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− | But what I do not understand is why we were chosen to save these others, when our own family was ignored. |
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+ | {{Forum post|"I... I don't know what I think of it. I felt empowered, favoured, even... happy, when I was chosen by the Rack-Broken Lord himself to cure Ombert, but it makes me think. If Ilmater stepped in to help a single halfling from being turned into a wererat, then why couldn't he... or... or... any of the other goodly gods, have prevented the Wailing Death that struck our home? Why couldn't they have cured it before it took the lives of our loved ones, of countless innocents?" Korrlan raised the bottom of his palm to his brow and looked down at the ground. After a while, he looked up at Brace. "What's your take on it, brother?" |
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+ | |[[User:Possessed_Priest/Characters/Korrlan|Korrlan]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Corkaury tried to answer all that was asked of him. "Yeah, The Ale and Rabbit." he repeated to Samophlange as if that was obvious, before realizing it probably made things more confusing. "I mean, the inn's ''called'' The Ale and Rabbit. Not very imaginative, I know, and the menu may be a tad on the short side, but you can't go wrong with hin cooking. And you can get a bed and bath there too... Anyway, we'll be in Loudwater tonight, so you'll probably be staying at the [[Scarlet Shield]] or the [[Red Boar Inn|Red Boar]]. The [[Enchanter's Ecstasy]] is... maybe not appropriate." he concluded, considering the gnome thoughtfully. |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|Come the morning, they quickly broke camp and readied to continue their journey. By his omissions and interruptions, Corkuary had clearly elected not to tell Ombert what had happened, reasoning it better that he be allowed to recover and set his mind at ease, and only learn how close he'd come once he was safely back at home.<br/><br/> |
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+ | "He ''could'' become Green Regent," Corkaury replied to Juniper, "Anyone can put themselves forward to the druids. And anyone can be chosen. But only the Lady of the Forest chooses. The Green Regent is a servant of Mielikki, the guardian of the vale..." He trailed off, though, as he spotted something on the road ahead. |
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⚫ | Finding an old game trail leading south, one formerly used by the goblinoid bandits in their raids, the travelers returned to the Delimbiyr Road in a few hours, and were soon well on their way to Loudwater. Today was Midsummer, and tonight would be a time of celebration and carousing in the garden city. |
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− | But |
+ | But it was his cousin Osco who pointed it out. "Hey! Isn't that your dad's wagon?" It was: the covered wooden wagon, with Blaz Merrymar's grinning face painted on the side, was parked on the road up ahead. "What's going on up there?" The travelers hurried to catch up, with the three Merrymars hurrying fastest of all if it weren't for halfling legs.|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 09:38, 25 June 2022 (UTC)}} |
+ | ===Reunion=== |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|As the group moved along the Delimbiyr Road, the wizard halfling almost pranced as she woke up in a grand mood, despite her camp-mates loudly trying all night. At the end of the day, she was giddy over the first adventure completed and in the books and relieved that they never actually faced any more were-beasts. “As my aunt used to say, nothing can bring a good halfling down.” she mumbled to herself “maybe we are just more resistant to such meager diseases, or maybe Brace is simply that good of a healer, curing both boys with such ease…” She made a mental note to detail the whole medicinal ordeal in her journal later. At the mention of all the promised ales and rabbits, her ears perked up, and the redheaded mage notably sped her pace up.|[[User:Artyom.pavlov/Characters/Juniper Churlgo|Juniper]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|All day yesterday and all day today, the caravan had crept ever closer to Loudwater, but Blaz Merrymar had been in no hurry, he hadn't pushed his ponies. Every foot on the road, every turn of the wheel, had felt less like progress and more like leaving his boys and those well-meaning adventurers behind. He kept turning over the fight in his mind, and turning over the possibilities. Had they found and rescued Corkaury, Ombert, and Osco? Or had they found them dead, or worse? Or had he thrown away five more good lives?<br/><br/> |
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+ | And the goblin's taunting had done nothing for his state of mind. Skar had only this one last chance, before he faced Loudwater justice. He couldn't escape his bonds, maybe he couldn't escape death, but he could escape a noose, he could die fighting. "No use dragging your arse, you know. They ain't coming back." he sneered. "You waited. They didn't. Oh yeah, those ''adventurers'' probably gave up, went looking for something more ''worth their while''." |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|While everyone was in high spirits at the prospect of rabbit and ale, Samophlange took the opportunity to quiz Corkaury about the silvered sword. "You said this was given to you by someone named "Dead Stein"? Who's that?" Samo asked nonchalantly, feeling very pleased with himself for being so subtle.|[[User:Ir'revrykal/Characters/Samophlange|Samophlange]]}} |
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+ | Blaz tried to ignore it, his eyes locked on the road ahead, willing it to move faster. |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|Corkaury glanced at Samophlange in surprise, half for anyone not knowing the local hero, and half that anyone could get his name so wrong. But of course, this lot were not from the Vale. "''[[Stedd Rein]]''," he stressed. "I told you lot about the Night of the Blood Moon, didn't I?" he confirmed, for his memories of that stressful day were already hazy. Yet he was talking more comfortably now, a confidant strongheart hin, rather than a scared and desperate prisoner. "Well, he's the son of Deldron Rein, the merchant, owner of the Red Boar Trading Coster. About ten years back, Stedd went down to Amn for an education in military matters at some college of war. He was coming back when the Blood Moon happened—guess he showed the werebeasts what he learned, eh?" he chuckled and elbowed Samophlange, able now to recall the victories more than the defeats of that night. "Anyway, Stedd commands the Red Boar guard now. He's turned it into a right proper army for defense of the Vale too. He's a hero in these parts."<br/><br/> |
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+ | "Or your precious boys turned into big stinking rats and gobbled them all up." |
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⚫ | Breaking off, Corkaury thought a moment, before realizing something. Trapped in that cave for a tenday or so, out of sight of the sun, he'd lost all track of time. "Hey, did I hear one of you say today's Midsummer? That means tomorrow's Shieldmeet... Ha! They'll be choosing the next Green Regent in Loudwater! We'll get to see the ceremony. It'll be Stedd Rein, I just know it; everyone says so." Corkaury concluded confidently.|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 08:53, 20 June 2022 (UTC)}} |
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+ | "Shut up." Blaz said sullenly. |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|Acting suitably impressed and thanking Corkaury for sharing, Samo made a mental note of all the details surrounding Stedd Rein. He'd need to buy a quill and paper once they reached Shining Falls. He still didn't know what the Green Regent was—as far as he could tell, it was a quaint local title of little import. Still, he smiled and nodded at Corkaury, feigning interest and understanding. "Say, does Shining Falls have an inn? I sure could use a nice, soft bed, and I'm sure my, uh, colleagues could too. I've been sleeping in a turnip cart for weeks! I think you mentioned something about ale and rabbit, too."|[[User:Ir'revrykal/Characters/Samophlange|Samophlange]]}} |
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+ | "Probably gnawing on their bones right now." Skar sniggered. |
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⚫ | {{Forum post|Juniper walked closer to the gnome and halfling as her attention was laser focused on continued mentions of rabbits and ales. “What does bring a Green Regent entail? Can anyone be one? Samophlange here is the most experienced adventurer I’ve ever met. Can he become a Green Regent?”|[[User:Artyom.pavlov/Characters/Juniper Churlgo|Juniper]]}} |
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+ | "Shut up." he spat back. |
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+ | "But at least they're not sniveling cowards no more." |
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+ | "Shut up!" |
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+ | "And look on the bright side—they'll come back to you. Sorry, ''for'' you. And their mother. And their dear sisters. One big happy family again." |
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+ | Before he knew it, as if he was a helpless spectator to his body and mind, Blaz found himself leaping off his cart, marching to the turnip wagon, climbing, aboard, yelling "Shut up! SHUT UP!" and shoving a turnip into the nasty goblin's big mouth, anything to make it stop. Skar spat out bits of turnip and broken tooth, shouting manically "Go on, do it, half-man!" Blaz somehow had his hoof knife in hand, raising it to the goblin's throat, but Skar twisted, trying to snatch the knife with his bound hands, and the two began to struggle.|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 09:38, 25 June 2022 (UTC)}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Samo ran after the halflings as fast as he could, and before long they had all reached the front of the caravan as a unit. Blaz Merrymar was clearly preoccupied, not noticing their struggle as he was locked in what appeared to be part fight to the death, part playground roughhousing with the rude goblin from earlier. |
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+ | <br /> |
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+ | Ever the first to speak, Samophlange coughed to get Blaz's attention, then said "Please don't stop on my accord, but I thought you might like to know we rescued your sons."|[[User:Ir'revrykal/Characters/Samophlange|Samophlange]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Interrupted, the pair slowed and stopped their struggle, and goblin and halfling alike looked around to the gnome—Blaz with rising hope, and Skar with sinking dread. Victorious, forgetting his grief and anger, Blaz yanked his knife back from Skar's suddenly slack fingers, and jumped down off the turnip cart. "You did?" he said in surprise, before he looked over Samophlange's shoulder at the three familiar figures hurrying up the road behind.<br/><br/> |
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+ | Then he rushed past the gnome and into the arms of his family, with Corkaury stepping back for Ombert to be almost crushed in his father's hug, before Blaz turned and took him too. Osco stood back, but it didn't take long for Blaz to hug his nephew as well, and just as lovingly. It was a joyful yet tearful reunion of the Merrymars, with lots of smiles and lots of relief all around, lots of hugs and laughs and claps on the back and stories to be told. |
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+ | As the reunited family wandered together back to the caravan, Skar and the other goblin tried to scramble backward, kicking turnips in their effort, with eyes wide in terror. "No! No! You keep those rats away from us!" Skar shouted, trying it on to the last. Corkaury hissed at them, making them flinch, and laughed. The terror of the Hark's wererats was ended, at least for a time.|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 12:56, 29 June 2022 (UTC)}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Juniper rushed after the valorous gnome towards the oh so familiar turnip cart. As the halfling father and sons hugged, the hin wizard gave a loving caress to the turnips they so bravely defended. When Skar yelped out in fear, Juniper gave him a dirty look "Be quiet now. We are heroes, we saved them. There are no more wererats... No thanks to you, mister ice-ear." She looked at the happy family once again "You're welcome!" with a huge smile on her round face.|[[User:Artyom.pavlov/Characters/Juniper Churlgo|Juniper]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|"Heroes? ''You?'' Ha!" Skar had sneered to Juniper, having to have the last word. "There're ''always'' more wererats. The Hark is still out there. He'll be wanting revenge. At least I'm going to the gallows and to my god with my soul intact. You won't be so lucky."|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 12:25, 3 July 2022 (UTC)}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Ilrien stayed back, close to the edges of the forest. What had happened in the night was, in her mind, far more miraculous than the doubting priest realized. A single scroll, in the right place, at the right time, by a priest with the strength of mind to wield it... Ilrien had seen much sadder endings, when injuries happened and no priest could be had. But given her earlier offer to kill the at-the-time wererat, she doubted anyone wanted to speak to her just yet. And so she walked quietly, a scout and watcher.|[[User:SilverTiger12/Ilrien|Ilrien]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Brace held back with his brother as the smaller members of the party rushed forward towards the commotion of the reunion. "One part of me feels like we are being mocked, if I am honest," he answered after a pause, as Juniper was taunting the goblin prisoners. "He let… them—and everyone else—die, but he kept us alive not only to suffer the loss rather than join them but also to make ''us'' his instruments to save other people, strangers to us. Why is his favor on them and not on us? And why force us to take part in it? Why force us to be reminded that the ones we loved were not important enough in the eyes of the gods to save?<br /><br />"But then, the other part of me, the non-emotional part, the curious mind, wants to see this through. If these three little people are so important to be saved, I want to at least know why before I judge the fairness of it. …as if I, a mortal, have any right to bring a judgment at all…."<br /><br />He walked away from his brother without waiting for a reply, towards the elven woman, who was standing apart at the edge of the forest, seemingly deep in thought. "Ilrien, is it? May I have a word?"<br /><br />She barely acknowledged him with a nod.<br /><br />"I suspect now that the two little people are not and never have been adventurers. This all was nothing but the favor of Tymora… or perhaps some trick of [[Erevan]]. But you seem different. Why was it that you came along on this rescue mission with us?"|~ ''[[User:Lhynard|Lhynard]]'' ([[User talk:Lhynard|talk]]) 17:26, 30 June 2022 (UTC)}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Ilrien looked at the human in slight surprise- of all the questions he might have asked, that was not one she had expected. "I am not what many would call an adventurer, bold and brash, but I was a hunter amongst my people and I left in search of... well, something that will likely take me into battle and danger to find. As for why I came..." she shrugs. "I have lost people I hold dear before."<br/><br/>She is silent for a long moment, then speaks again, "Forgive me, but I overheard you and your brother discussing why the gods acted here but not elsewhere. I am no cleric, but... consider that the gods do not act for our purposes, but for theirs. And that if one god acts more freely than in small ways, then why not the rest? But not all gods are so benevolent as the one your brother serves."|[[User:SilverTiger12/Ilrien|Ilrien]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|She raised an eyebrow, then replied in elven, "Because the days are always harsh, and the nights little kinder. I did not expect to meet another who spoke the language of my kindred."|[[User:SilverTiger12/Ilrien|Ilrien]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Brace tried to answer again in Elven, but he had to fill in blanks in his vocabulary with some words from Common. "I know a little, plus a few… <nowiki>[</nowiki>idioms<nowiki>]</nowiki> like that. It is a language of magic. I know the tongue of dwarves also, for both of your peoples are older than mine. My old… <nowiki>[</nowiki>trademaster<nowiki>]</nowiki> taught me both languages. He was an… <nowiki>[</nowiki>alchemist<nowiki>]</nowiki>. He tried to teach me the Weave. I… was good at the words and the symbols, but I… am not good otherwise, only good for buying and selling potions and herbs….<br /><br />"Should we go to see if Blaz as anything to say to us?"|~ ''[[User:Lhynard|Lhynard]]'' ([[User talk:Lhynard|talk]]) 19:55, 2 July 2022 (UTC)}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Ilrien eyed Brace a moment, then replied, in Common "Your grammar is perfect, but I would recommend sticking to Common if you have the need to hold an extended conversation with another of my kin. Let us go." And abruptly, she set off for the halfling.|[[User:SilverTiger12/Ilrien|Ilrien]]}} |
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+ | ===Speaking of Elves...=== |
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+ | {{Forum post|With his hands on the shoulders of his last two sons, as if unwilling to ever let them out of his reach again, Blaz turned back to the adventurers who'd saved them. Tears made his eyes shine and a wide smile, once forgotten, again creased his jolly face. "Oh, thank you, thank you so much, for bringing my boys back to me. Uh, I know it's not much, but I can give you a reward, or payment, for your expenses and all that..." After rummaging inside the strongbox in his cart, he pressed purses of coin in each of their hands, insisting even if they should refuse. "And if you ever find yourself in Shining Falls, then I'll treat you to a real hin banquet—all you can eat and more!"<br/><br/> |
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+ | Meanwhile, Corkaury approached Samophlange, looking a bit sheepish as he gestured to his silver sword still in the gnome's belt. "Ah, looks like you've taken a bit of a shine to my sword there. It is a fine one, indeed..." He reached out a hand, about to ask for it back, but hesitated, gazing not at the sword but his empty hand. So many battles fought with it, so much blood spilled by it, and yesterday he'd sworn to add his own and that of his own family. Corkaury shook his hand in refusal and dropped it. "You keep it. It suits you better, and I reckon you'll have more need of it, if you run into werebeasts again... Or if you meet Stedd Rein and need a favor. Show it to him, tell him I vouch for you, tell him—tell him I'm doing alright and don't need it any more." |
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+ | But by now they were hearing the rattle of horses and their tack, coming down the road at a canter. They looked to see a small squad of soldiers riding majestically atop their warhorses, their helms and mail gleaming in the summer sun, their rippling blue tabards bearing three golden crescent moons—these were the [[Loudwater Guard]]. |
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+ | Not many of the militia would've volunteered for road patrol duty on a day like Midsummer, and leave that all carousing and celebration behind. Fist Captain [[Isyan Kiy'sisnos]] had. Without hesitation. Particularly with Shieldmeet tomorrow, a distracted, inebriated, over-fed, under-slept, and finally hungover populace would be all too vulnerable to raids by orcs, werecreatures, the Hark's bandits, the Half-Elven Renegades, the Zhentarim, or worse, so it was a time to be especially vigilant. Fortunately, with two days of festivities, every soldier could be guaranteed one day off, and even Isyan Kiy'sisnos had big plans for tomorrow. The Guard had focused their attention on Loudwater itself the last few days, monitoring all the people coming into the city and setting up, but now it was time to return to the roads, and pray they hadn't missed any raided caravans or creeping armies. |
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+ | Still, it was expected to be a routine patrol. But then elven ears had pricked at the sounds of a goblin squealing somewhere down the road, and Isyan hurried the patrol toward the scene of the commotion in order to investigate. |
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+ | Quickly, the mounted patrol closed with the stationary caravan and spread out to flank them, while the two leaders trotted closer to confront them. From atop a white warhorse, the patrol leader, marked by a white bright tabard that didn't show a single speck of dust from the road, took in the scene. A motley band of adventurers. A family of halflings. And pair of bound goblins, one of whom who appeared to have been brutalized with a turnip. |
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+ | With ice-blue eyes in a pale elven face, the patrol leader coolly regarded the group and asked crisply, not yet demanding but certainly expectant "What is going on here?"|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 12:25, 3 July 2022 (UTC)}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|"…Thank you", said Samo as Corkaury relinquished his claim to the silvered sword. Honestly, he had planned on keeping it anyway, but this was certainly easier for everyone involved. "I will seek out this Saer Stedd Rein and give him your regards." Samo smirked internally, pleased at how things were coming together. He just needed to see about sending a letter back home, now. Oh, and he would need to write one for Ma Samophlange as well lest he get an earful when he got back to Athkatla. |
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+ | <br /> |
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+ | Suddenly aware of the approaching patrol, Samo bravely stepped forward to address the foppish elf. "Greetings. I am Samophlange Skitterwidget, and these are my fellow stalwart adventurers: Juniper, mistress of the Art. Brace, the alchemist. Korrlan, blessed by Ilmater himself. And Ilrien, the deadliest elf-maid this side of the Sea of Swords," he said, gesturing to each of his colleagues in turn. "This caravan was accosted by goblin raiders but we drove them back. We then ventured into the heart of the goblin stronghold to rescue several captives. We even brought goblin prisoners for you to question, if you would like. And we are at your service." With that, he gave a dramatic bow. He knew it might be a hard sell to present this group as heroic adventurers, but he was confident these hicks would be suitably impressed by both the tale and its telling. |
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+ | <br /> |
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+ | ''Bluff: 15 + 3 <nowiki>=</nowiki> <u>18</u>''|[[User:Ir'revrykal/Characters/Samophlange|Samophlange]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|"An apothecary, saer, not an alchemist, a simple merchant…."|~[[User:Lhynard/Characters/Brace|Brace]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post| "And a true hero!" Juniper shouted back to the tall folks. "The Hark? The man you collected taxes for? Why would we be afraid of a tax clerk?" Juniper shrugged. "I once saw a tax collector in the Dalelands. He was a big fella. I even thought him an ogre, or some unfortunate bloated demon from the Lower Planes. But he was just well fed and wanted a bribe, something mom happily provided… What was his name? He had a silly human name, something like Sir Lord Fancypants or some such. You know how humans are with their names and titles…" Juniper trailed off on another tangent. Without losing a beat, she asked the bandaged goblin in his crude goblin tongue, "This tax collector, Hark Fancypants. Does he value you? Will he come to get you? Doubt that." She looked at the gnome next to her, beaming "Samo, have you read anything about that Hark person in one of your tomes of lore? Good ol' Ice-Ear here seem to think he is dangerous."<br/>''OOC: going to try and provoke him to spill the green beans, Gather Information roll (or intimidation, same score) : 14 - 1|[[User:Artyom.pavlov/Characters/Juniper Churlgo|Juniper]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|Still mid-bow, Samophlange looked back at Brace and shot him a glare. Then Juniper started babbling, clearly unconcerned with the armed patrol directly in front of them. Samo straightened, turned, and answered the halfling, "I think a hark is a type of pigeon… maybe the goblins worship a pigeon god." He turned back to the elf rider and smiled sheepishly, slightly embarrassed. "You'll have to pardon my companions, Saer Elf. They are an excitable lot."|[[User:Ir'revrykal/Characters/Samophlange|Samophlange]]}} |
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+ | {{Forum post|As Samophlange made the introductions, and quite smartly too, the patrol leader regarded each of them in turn and gave a curt nod. "Well met. Isyan Kiy'sisnos, Fist Captain of the Loudwater Guard." the elf declared with a sense of relief, doffing the gleaming helm and tucking it under the shoulder. This revealed delicate angular features, pale skin, piercing ice-blue eyes, and midnight-blue hair, long and fine and pulled back in a tight ponytail bound by silver cords. It was a classically moon elven beauty, but like the beauty of a snow-capped mountain: cold, pristine, remote, aloof, even forbidding.<br/><br/> |
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+ | The group seemed professional enough—for adventurers. But as the halfling woman interjected and began to babble, Isyan wondered if that had maybe been a misjudgement. But there was a nugget of interest in all of that, making the elf's ears prick up. "The Hark?" Isyan echoed, surprised to hear that title again, after so many years. "That old bandit lord, the Hark's back? ...Damn. That's all we need." |
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+ | "Yeah, the Hark's back!" Skar cried out from the turnip cart. "And he'll come after us, and this lot, and you, and your High Lord too! You give us a good deal, and keep us safe, and I'll tell you all need to know." the goblin bargained, desperate to save his own skin. But was it from the law of Loudwater, or from the Hark? |
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+ | Abruptly, the Fist Captain turned and called crisp orders to the patrol. "Guardsmen, escort duty! Outriders head, tail, and flanks. We return to Loudwater." As the patrol spread out and took their position, Isyan turned to the adventurers and the Merrymars, "Loudwater thanks you for your bravery. We'll see you to the Western Tower, and take your statements, then you'll be free to enjoy Midsummer Night." |
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+ | With smiles on their faces, Blaz Merrymar and his reunited family climbed aboard their wagon while the adventurers also found their old seats. With a creak and clatter, they set their ponies and wheels into motion, and the caravan resumed its long journey toward the garden city of Loudwater.|[[User:BadCatMan|BadCatMan]] ([[User talk:BadCatMan|talk]]) 10:11, 5 July 2022 (UTC)}} |
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+ | ''The End.'' |
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+ | ''Next: [[Forum:Legacy of the Green Regent: Midsummer Night|Chapter 1: Midsummer Night]].'' |
Latest revision as of 19:35, 21 February 2023
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"There are few places in Faerûn like the Delimbiyr Crescent. The Harpers whisper that the entire region is a favored haunt of the goddess Mielikki, while the guildmasters of Waterdeep covet the abundant resources that flow down the River Shining. The vale is the verdant crown of the north. At its centerpiece glimmers Loudwater, the City of Grottos, a luxuriant paradise where the triumphs of Western Heartlands civilization intermesh seamlessly with the beauty of the wild North.
"But as the cynic warns, every paradise has its serpents.
"Mielikki's blessed share the fertile valley with the forces of the Black Network, and though there is a declared promise of peace between Loudwater and Llorkh, no one believes the Oath of Orlbar will confine the Zhentarim forever. A wererat bandit lord named the Hark plagues the road to Secomber, and after almost a decade of light raids, the Hark's brood attacks with renewed ferocity. In late spring, the orcs of the High Forest started migrating en masse out of the forest, heading east toward the Greypeak Mountains, creating a situation that has shocked the residents of Loudwater. Some guess the orcs were spooked by the floating City of Shade appearing over the Dire Wood, while others speculate both may be symptoms of the same disease infecting that cursed wood.
"It is just before Shieldmeet, the Year of Wild Magic. The Delimbiyr Vale is a land full of magic, intrigue, and danger, and soon a band of heroes will put their own mark on its history."
Dramatis Personae:
- Brace Splitbark, a human apothecary
- Korrlan Splitbark, a human cleric of Ilmater
- Ilrien, an elf shadowcaster
- Juniper Churlgo, a halfling wizard
- Samophlange Skitterwidget, a gnome rogue
Act I – Waylaid Before Twilight
On the Road
Place: Along the Delimbiyr Route between Zelbross and Loudwater, in the Delimbiyr Vale.
Time: Shortly before twilight; Flamerule 29, the Summertide, 1372 DR.
Weather: Windy and cool.
Blaz Merrymar was not a merry halfling. His own name, a good old Hin name, made him feel like a fraud every time he introduced himself. His own smiling face, a face you could trust, stared mockingly back at him from the sign painted on the side of his wagon. How could he be merry, when he'd lost so much of what had made him so? Corkaury, Wilimac, Ombert, and Gandolar, his own sons. Dalabrac, Osco, and Bryn, nephews just as close. All lost, all dead. No one to carry on the good old Merrymar name now. No one to be merry again.
A clan decimated, a brother's promise failed, a heart broken seven times over. The news had been too much to bear the first time, but the second time, so soon after, had been unthinkable. First half his sons murdered by savage elves on nameless forest trails. Then the other half, slaughtered by marauding orcs on the road. The road he travelled now. Blaz knew it was a risk; if there was another raid he couldn't leave Rinyon a widow and his daughters fatherless. But he'd insisted to Rinyon he had to replace the stolen stock before Shieldmeet. She'd seen right through it, of course, but had let him go. In truth, he couldn't bear to stay home, stewing in his misery where everything reminded him of his lost sons and nephews. His hobbies and enterprises held no interest to him now. He worked like one of Deogol's mechanical men, empty-headed and just following its program. So, he'd needed to go. And now, he was going back.
The road ran along the north bank of the great Delimbiyr, with the wide vale now a narrow neck squeezed between the great expanse of the High Forest and the small Southwood, with a scattering of blueleafs from both trying to reclaim the land between them and be joined once again. The caravan had left Zelbross behind, and now headed to Loudwater, and beyond it, for Blaz at least, Shining Falls. But more immediately, a common campsite they would reach by twilight. Behind his wagon were a motley band of travelers: small-time merchants like him, folk wishing to settle in the Shining Valley, caravan guards meant to keep them safe, and of course adventurers. Blaz wasn't sure the adventurers were meant to keep anyone safe, but he hoped they'd keep the bandits and the elves and the orcs at bay...
No. Blaz hoped they wouldn't, that the raiders would come and show their damn ugly faces, so he could demand why they'd taken his sons and ruined his business and destroyed his family. So he could fight them for Corkaury and Wilimac and Ombert and Gandolar… No. He didn't know what he would do. But he knew he would do something.
(Or was it sixthday or eighthday today? I do not even know anymore....)
I like the halfling merchant leader most amongst all the strangers in this band of misfits.
I cannot say that I have spoken a solitary word to him, but I can tell from his face that he has suffered loss of the same kind as I. The man smiles at us constantly, and I can see that every one of them is a lie. I can also see the determination in his countenance, though I do not know what it is for.
It matters little to me. I am just along for this ride.
Nothing particularly interesting happened today. The plant growth here along the river valley is lush and green, and something about the emerald rays shining through the leaves offers some comfort to me, though I do not accept it as a true gift. I can admire the beauty of it without thinking that the gods ordained it for my pleasure. It is happenstance, a natural occurrence of the way the sun shines through Toril's skies. It is as mundane as every potion I have ever brewed.
Yesterday, I first noticed one of the other travelers with us. It terrified me at first, because I saw curly red hair atop a short stature and thought that it was Sili come to haunt me. I am beginning to see them everywhere. I pinched myself to find that I was not having a vision, but then the figure turned. It was another halfling, probably another merchant, but I have no real idea.
I cannot read Korr. How is it that I can read this halfling caravan leader better than my own brother? How is it that we grew up together, yet I cannot interpret his facial expressions? I want to talk to him about home, but I do not know how to begin. I hope that the fact that I accompanied him on this journey conveys to him that I do not blame him for what happened. If anyone, I blame his god.
I wonder sometimes if Kethra blamed him as she took her last breath.
Blaz told us that we are to reach a campsite by nightfall, and the light is already dimming and making it hard to write. I also have but two sheets of paper left to spare, so I shall put down my pen....
Ilrien pauses for a moment beneath the leaves, surveying the woods alongside the road. The noise of the caravans and people had long since scared away any game. A pity, that. A rabbit or squirrel would have made a nice change from travel rations.
Dusk, now, when the sun sets and darkness cradles the world. The caravan would be stopping soon, its motley collection of people circling the wagons against what walked in the night. Normally she would have travelled by night as well, not day, but she is alone and not so powerful as to scorn the protection offered by numbers. Not with the orcs leaving the High Forest to rove the open Delimbyr lands.
She turns and continues walking along the edges of the train of wagons. Maybe once they reach the campsite, she will go on a short hunt for herself.
A redheaded halfling was perched atop one of the wagons with her tight curls bouncing in rhythm with the bumpy road through the Vale. Her cherubic face took in the last rays of evening light. Juniper scanned the blueleaf trees that slowly moved past the wagon, thinking to herself if the trees had any undiscovered magical properties or eccentric culinary uses. Yes, Juniper was her name, thanks to her mother who was likely thinking of ingredients for her famous cheese rather than of traditional hin names. She sighed and admitted to herself that Juniper is not the worst name she could've ended up with. However, Juniper was happy to be many miles away from home and from the unending copious cousins, siblings, and other assorted family members.
She found her eyes unconsciously focusing on another halfling in the ragtag band of caravaners. Blaz, he did not have a typical cheery disposition Juniper was used to among her kin. He really should smile more... but then he'd become as unbearable as her clan, and Juniper was happy not to be reminded of them too often.
The halfling shrugged, took out her spellbook, and quickly scribbled a few words on the last page. She hoped the dinner would be hearty as she was starving half to death with only having four meals today.
He slicked back his black hair and peered through the opening at the back of the wagon tent. It looked like he had slept through most of the day yet again. He could hardly blame himself, though. The journey from Athkatla had been slow and tedious, with little in the way of exotic sights—mostly the open road, fields, more fields—and yeah, turnips. That might change soon, though, if the caravan buzz was to be believed. Apparently they were entering frontier territory, barely-tamed wilderness where mortal danger was a daily concern. Samo shuddered with excitement. His belly rumbled plaintively in solidarity.
Korrlan slouched, head in hands. He took a second to reflect on a situation other than his own. The halfling, Blaz, had lost his kin too; several sons and nephews, he claimed. Korr understood Blaz's situation, but somehow, it just didn't seem to mirror his own. Though downtrodden, at least the halfling had some spark of revenge-fueled passion pumping through his veins. Korrlan had nothing.
Ahead, the road began to wind around low, tree-topped rises, forming a shallow S-shaped curve. It was hard to see clearly what lay beyond the next bend—a perfect place for an ambush, as every frontier traveler knew.
"I love bells!" the red-headed halfling girl exclaimed after the grumpy caravan leader decided to talk about music out of the blue. "How does one play half-a-bell I wonder" she mumbled. Juniper's eyes darted from tree to tree but she found herself thinking of components and wildlife and singing bells instead of actually watching out for trouble. Her ears, however, did a much better job.
OOC: spot - 5; listen - nat 20 (23)
Spot: 7 + 4 = 11
Listen: 20 + 2 = 22
Ilrien looks up and towards the shouting. When someone says "orcs", she strings her longbow.
14 Spot, 8 Listen
Ambushed
OOC: In case needs a stealth troll - 18+3=21
Distracted, Korr missed out on the context of Skar's threats and boasts. Somewhat lost, he turned to Brace. The oldest Splitbark brother had that look on his face, as if he'd called a friend's bluff during a game of poker. Korrlan offered Brace a grim nod and placed his hand on the handle of the heavy mace that lay to his side; he knew what would come next.
Sense Motive 24. He can certainly tell that Brace suspects the goblin is bluffing.
Surprised by the sudden threat on the road, Blaz had frozen, being shocked out of his thoughts but not into any kind of action. He was dully wondering if this was what Corkaury and Ombert had been confronted with, not orcs, but goblins. Was this Skar the one who had slain his sons? Then he heard words hissed his way, first the gnome insisting it was a bluff, then the lightfoot explaining why. Bolstered by the news, outraged that brave Corkaury, survivor of the Night of the Blood Moon, might've been felled by such trickery, a sudden burst of courage gripped his heart. Blaz would challenge them! Snatching up his crossbow and a small but hefty club, Blaz jumped out of his wagon, his boots raising dust in the dirt road. Wearing only tunic and breeches, he was middle aged and stout, and lack of appetite had robbed him of his plumpness and loosened his skin, but his heart was strong! Blaz marched up to Skar, shouting furiously "You damned goblin bastard! Did you murder my sons!"
But Skar, not cowed at all, cackled at the sight of him. "Oho, another half-man who wants to be a hero? They must've been your sons then! But then, they won't be your sons much longer. They won't even be halflings!" he crowed.
Confused and horrified, Blaz tensed, his hand clenched, the crossbow fired. And the bolt flew high over Skar's head. He ducked anyway, grinning madly. "Get him, Gvrag!"
With a great smash, a bush was ripped aside, and a massive bugbear barged out of the woods and rushed Blaz. One meaty hand seized him by the front of his tunic and yanked him high in the air. The other punched him in the gut.
"This half-man has looser skin than the others. We must be getting to the bottom of the barrel. Don't need to bring this one to the boss, do we, boys? Maybe we can have some fun!" The goblins sniggered and then Skar thrust the lit torch right into Blaz's feet, causing boots and breeches to smoulder. Blaz cried out in pain and frustration, and in grief that he'd failed his sons.
Skar turned back to the caravan and those watching in horror. "Hand over your riches now, and he won't suffer. Much. Or does anyone else want to be a hero?"
"Maybe not heroes, but not cowards either."
18 to hit Skar, 2 damage. Current location should be C15
Meanwhile, the bugbear thumped Blaz across the jaw, knocking him cold, and tossed him aside like a piece of trash. Gvrag had more worthy foes to fight now.
Samophlange moves to I10 (5 ft).
Without saying any more solely to Brace, Korrlan rushed to the wagon ahead of him and climbed upon it. The young cleric raised his voice, and his holy symbol into the air, and called out to Ilmater, the One Who Endures. "The red cord that binds our hands shall snap, freeing them from their confinement. So seize that bow, unsheathe that sword, or reveal that dagger, and strike those that would cause needless suffering!"
Brace had no idea how his presence on the battlefield would be at all helpful, but he could not sit idly by while others suffered, and he felt a strange—almost supernatural—burst of courage on seeing his brother's and hearing his prayer to the Broken God. He flung himself out of the front side of the wagon and rushed past Korr to take cover behind the lead wagon, (close to the funny-looking little man from the turnip wagon whom he had heard called Master Skuttelgadget or something.) He fingered the array of flasks and vials on his belt, wondering if any of them might have an unexpected use in the near future.
Brace uses a hustle/double movement to get to G12 or nearabouts.
"Like you can talk. You missed the gnome." his fellow pointed out, switching to the Goblin language.
"Yeah, but gnomes are smaller." the other insisted.
"They're as big as us!" He fired his own crossbow, but the bolt clattered off the milestone the gnome was cowering behind. "He's behind a rock." he pointed about before his mate could. [Goblin #2 attack 21, miss]
In any case, Samophlange had gotten the Biggest Guy's attention—Gvrag was now looking his way and loosening his spiked flail.
"Focus, you lot!" Skar hissed to his companions, then took off, dashing swiftly past the wagons in an attempt to answer his attacker. An elf archer would ruin anyone's day, leastwise his. He was still clutching the burning torch, trailing smoke and cinders behind him, so he thrust it at the elf to burn and dazzle her. [Skar: charges to C13, attack 6, misses Ilrien]
Meanwhile, Korrlan got everyone's attention by climbing atop a wagon and exhorting the travelers to action and courage with his prayer, the inspiring display was only slightly undercut by the sight of him standing on a heap of turnips. Somewhere, the Crying God would be chuckling.
Then one of the goblins answered with a crossbow bolt, the point ratting painfully on the priest's scale mail. [Goblin #1 attack 16, hit, damage 4 @ Korrlan]
Map Updates: Samophlange in I10. Korrlan in E15. Brace in G12. Ilrien revised to C14. Skar charged to C13. BTW, wagons provide cover, at least when not standing on top of them.
OOC: Skar -> Fortitude save. On fail - 11 non-lethal damage + fatigue. On save successes - 1/2 damage.
Takes a five-foot step back and uses her Steel Shadows mystery, AC is now 18.
In the Goblin tongue, Skar spat a curse and shouted orders to his fellows, calling them out to aid him. "Down bows! Close in! Take the gnomes and halflings alive!" One descended the slope and came up behind his leader, before clearly trying to circle around Ilrien. [Goblin #3 double-moves to B14]
On the other side of the road, another goblin had the same idea, creeping out of the woods and around the milestone to get behind Samophlange. [Goblin double-moves to #J11]
Their tactic soon become terribly clear: unhooking his vicious spiked flail and whirling it around, Gvrag the bugbear charged right at the cornered gnome! He might not have been trying to kill Samophlange, but the distinction was moot as that heavy mass of metal slammed into his leather armor, winding him badly. [Gvrag charges to H9, flanking; attack 15, nonlethal damage 4 @ Samophlange]
Samophlange deftly stepped away from both goblinoid assailants, toward the lead wagon, and used the modicum of space this bought him to reload his hand crossbow. He fired on the hulking bugbear once more, hoping to prove his theory.
Samophlange 5-foot-steps to H11 and reloads his crossbow.
To hit Gvrag: 13 + 6 = 19
19 hits. Damage: 2.
The cleric leaped over the side of the right side of the wagon and took cover. "So He has left me, first in life, and now in... death. Gods be damned-", he began to murmur, but quickly halted the blasphemous thought.
To hit: 3. Clear miss.
Brace was fuming with a mixture of emotions and confusion at what was ensuing; it was hard to think clearly. Instinctively, his hand moved from his vials to his dagger—his father's dagger—and imagined an image of it plunging into the face of the pointed-eared beast that had shot his only living family member. But then he remembered the lessons of his master, Luth, to whom he had so long been apprenticed, lessons about pausing for a moment to think about the most tactical solution to a problem before acting. He had less than a moment, but the little goblin was certainly less important than the big hairy one. His hand returned to one of the vials and freed it from its pouch. Poking out from behind the corner of the wagon, he let it fly.
Ranged touch attack w/ alchemical sleep gas: 8 + 3 + 1 (point blank) + 1 (bless) = 13
The other two goblins remained in the cover of the woods, where it seemed safer. One suffered a misfire with his ramshackle crossbow, but the other had much more success, putting another bolt in Korrlan. [Goblin #1 attack 21, damage 2 @ Korr. Goblin #2 rolled a 1, miss.]
OOC: Gvrag asleep for 1 minute. Samo in H11.
Trying to remain unharassed, Juniper saw the bugbear swing at the gnome fella and hit! The halfling quickly closed her eyes and started chanting another spell. Suddenly the sound of broken glass and falling bugbear body snapped her out of concentration. "...Did I do that?... I must be a better sorceress than I thought to be!" She quickly looked around and turned her attention to the goblin leader once again. She shouted the final words of the spell and pointed her finger at Skar. A single pulsing globule of concentrated magic few out of Juniper's finger and crashed into Skar's back.
OOC: Magic Missile at Skar - 3+1=4
Ilrien takes a five-foot step back, then fires: 6 to hit, clear miss.
Suddenly slammed in the back, Skar was winded and left reeling, unable to make his legs walk and his arms move at the same time. "Ow!" he complained, more annoyed than agonized. Still, he was not so stricken that he could not dodge the elf's next arrow. [Skar: staggered, limited single actions only]
Meanwhile, the third goblin ran around and behind Ilrien, passing easily under the head of a horse. Then he took a low swing at her legs with his morningstar, managing to penetrate her umbral armor. It wouldn't take long to corner her and kill her. [Goblin #3 moves to C17. Attack 18, damage 3 @ Ilrien]
While Gvrag snored noisily, the fourth goblin called out "Boss! Gvrag's down!" and bravely jumped forward to avenge the bugbear. He swung his morningstar at Brace, but the apothecary only just evaded it. [Goblin #4 moves to H12. Attack 12, miss]
Samophlange 5-foot-steps to I10 and reloads his crossbow.
To hit goblin #4: 8 + 7 = 15
15 hits. Damage: 1.
Brace did not expect his target to come to him, but it had lunged at him with a crude-looking spiked stick or something. With instincts that he did not know he had, he lunged back and released his weapon. At the same time, he heard a muffled low twang from around the corner of the wagon. Brace's blade made a single circle in the air and stuck point-in to the goblin's forehead, as a quarrel drove into the creature from the side. Brace drew his second dagger before he saw whether the little monster was dead or no. Instead, he glance over his right shoulder expecting to see his brother grimacing in pain, hunched in the cover of the turnip wagon. However, the young cleric was not cowering or hiding; he was risking himself to save the injured fey woman who had been traveling with them. "Korr?" he called out again, impressed with his brother's courage.
Ranged attack w/ masterwork dagger: 16 + 4 + 1 (point blank) + 1 (bless) = 22
Damage: 2 + 2 + 1 (point blank) = 5
Draw weapon as move action
Seeing the priest jump off the turnip cart and run for the treeline, Skar sneered "So, the cleric is a coward! Let's deal with this broken elf, then with him." Though he might be battered himself, he felt in better shape than her. And he wanted to avenge her attack on him earlier. Skar lunged forward, trapping Ilrien between him, his partner, and the wagon, and made a surprise swing at her knees—and was thwarted again as his wicked morningstar was deflected by her shadowy armor. "Damn your booyahg!" he hissed. [Skar 5-foot-step to C15, flanking, attack 17, miss]
Meanwhile, no longer able to let a clear shot, the goblin crossbowmen in the woods stole down the slope and ventured down the road, exchanging their crossbows for morningstars. One ran past Blaz's wagon and appeared behind Brace, ready to hit him in the back! [Goblin #1 double-moves to E11.]]
The other hurried to the fallen bugbear's side, frantically checking on his fellow and trying to wake him! "Hey, Gvrag! You okay? Wake up. Wake up!" [Goblin #2 moves to I8. Checks on bugbear]
OOC: Map updates: Samo in I10, Korr in G17, Brace in F12. Goblin #1 in E11. Goblin #2 in I8. Goblin #4 unconscious & bleeding.
OOC: masterwork light crossbow attacks 9+4+1=14 (assuming it misses, 6 damage)
Punching Skar: 6+1 (bless)=7 to hit.
Crouching over the bugbear, his focus on waking him, the goblin could not dodge the crossbow fired from high above. The bolt struck him in the back, and he collapsed over his partner in crime. Gvrag stirred, made a grumpy yawn, rolled over, and went back to sleep. [Juniper hits Goblin #2, knocked out]
When Ilrien's clumsy blow failed to connect, she felt a pain shoot up her battered leg; the goblin's strike had been bad. She blacked out and collapsed, her world becoming the darkness she commanded. [Disabled at 0 hp and taking a strenuous action, Ilrien loses 1 hp, and is unconscious and bleeding at −1 hp]
"Ha! Typical elf, got no staying power! Now, get after that coward priest!" Skar ordered his comrade, especially since he was close to collapse himself. Being on the other side the wagons, he was unaware he'd already lost half his gang.
The goblin looked uncertain, but Skar did not, so he nodded grimly and turned and rushed after the priest, morningstar raised over his head. The priest had already climbed the slope into the woods, but not out of reach, and the goblin warrior delivered a brutal swing at his knees. [Goblin #3 charges to F17, attack 19, damage 4 @ Korrlan]Blue: PCs. S: Samophlange; I: Ilrien; B: Brace; K: Korrlan; J: Juniper
Red: enemies: S: Skar; G: Gvrag; 1–4: Goblins
White: neutrals & unconscious. B: Blaz; H: Horse
Boxes: wagons of one kind or another
Black splotches: trees (light cover, +2 AC, +1 Reflex); Gray shading: undergrowth (concealment 20%); White spots: small rocks and turnips; Contour lines: elevation to difficult terrain (half movement).
Korr couldn't catch a break. As he was about to surprise the incoming goblin, the spiked end of a morningstar slammed into his head from above, badly injuring him. "How?!" he called out. With the remaining faith (and health!) he had, he raised his masterwork mace into the air, and cried, no, he pleaded to Ilmater. "We have suffered, we have endured. By the Broken God, the Rack-Broken Lord, allow me to become your beacon! By He who dwells in Martyrdom, and to He whom the oppressed and enslaved call out to, guide my hand, to smite this creature!" For a moment, the clouds parted, shining light upon the young Neveren cleric. Korr struck down with utmost confidence and power, but his strike couldn't have gone wider. It was if a higher power was playing with him...
Samophlange reloads and fires on goblin #3.
To hit: 18 + 3 + 1 (bless) + 1 (racial bonus) - 4 (firing into melee) = 19
19 hits. Damage: 3.
Brace ignored his pending assailant and rushed toward his brother….
Potential attack of opportunity against Brace from Goblin #1 vs. AC 13 + 4 (cover from wagon) −2 (charge, unless that penalty only applies after the charge) = 15 (or 17)
…swinging his dagger wildly at the goblin's back.
Charge to F16
Melee attack w/ dagger: 15 + 2 + 1 (bless) + 2 (charge) = 20
Damage: 2 + 2 = 4
Brace shouted at the goblin leader standing over the body of the fey woman on the other side of the turnip wagon. "Skar! If you want Hark's Tax, come and get it from my brother and me!"
Brace had never threatened anyone in his life, and his usually quiet voice sounded foolish in yell, but the divine blessing surging through him still gave him confidence, even if misguided.
Intimidate check: 1 − 1 = 0
The other goblin had taken a clumsy swing at Brace, being too surprised by his sudden rush away. It hurt him to see the human strike his comrade, and wanted to go to help, but realized a better way to salvage this failing ambush. Spying the large wagon wheel, he set one big foot on a spoke, then reached a lanky arm up for the shutter. Soon, grubby yellowish fingers curled around the roof of the wagon... [Goblin #1 climbs up side of wagon].
Peering around and above the turnip wagon, Skar saw how the battle was faring: badly. The bugbear and two of his men were down, him and another nearly so. Hekkut had been wrong, this was no easy hit. He hadn't expected there to be adventurers. But, by Maglubiyet, he wasn't going to run like a coward. "Yeah, nah, not going to happen." he called back over the wagon. Quickly, he grabbed the stricken elf and dragged her behind the wagon with him; he was disappointed not to find any potions or booyahg he could use on her. "Give up your weapons, or the elf gets it!"
OOC: No new map this round, as there's not much to change. Brace moved to F16.
OOC: Magic missile at Skar 1+1=2 damage.
Without giving the rude and invasive goblin rip at her new fancy coat, Juniper plummeted off the wagon and dashed away from danger.
OOC: Moving to E15, assuming this is the farthest I can go with jumping off the wagon.
Juniper jumped down from the wagon, but as she landed she rolled her ankle on the dirt road. Still, it seemed better than being brained by a goblin bandit. [Juniper Jump check 12, nonlethal damage 3]
Hearing his leader brought low, trapped between the two brothers and on his last breaths, the third goblin went for one last, desperate swing, battering Brace with his crude iron morningstar. And after that effort, he collapsed, unconscious and bleeding out. [Goblin #3 attack 18, damage 3 @ Brace. Loses 1 hp and unconscious]
That left one last goblin, clinging to the side of the wagon and rapidly reassessing his options...
OOC: Ilrien loses 1 hp from bleeding.
Samophlange 5-foot-steps to I9 and reloads.
Reaching the bottom of the hill, he quickly skidded to his knees, and carefully raised Ilrien's angular chin. Checking the airway, only the lightest of breaths were to be heard. Her leg was battered; Korr would have to be at his best if he were to stop the continuous flow of blood. He applied great pressure to her slender limb, and applied a bandage. The bleeding would continue, however. Korr reached a hand over his back, and ripped off his Ilmatari cloak. Wrapping it around Ilrien, and maintaining the optimal amount of pressure, the bleeding finally stopped. Color returned to the elven lass, and her breathing became stable.
Korrlan was glad to have eased Ilrien's suffering, and was also glad to have taken suffering upon himself. However, this wasn't enough for the young, puzzled cleric; he wanted to inflict it.
OOC: Korrlan uses the Heal skill to perform First Aid on Ilrien (DC 15).
Heal check: 7 + 4 [Heal skill bonus] + 4 [Wisdom bonus] = 15. Ilrien is now stable!
Better strike this other one before it gave a similar blow to him or someone else. He threw his second dagger, but a sharp pain in his chest when he did so caused his throw to veer right and strike the side of the wagon instead.
Move to B14 and speak as free action
Ranged attack w/ dagger: 6 + 3 + 1 (point blank) + 1 (bless) = 11: miss
"Ilmater forgives. I do not."
And pulled the trigger on his crossbow.
Samophlange coup-de-graces Gvrag for 2 + 3 + 2 (sneak attack) = 7 damage.
Well Met
His brother had been too focused on his work to respond to Brace's last question, so the apothecary asked another. "Will she live?"
The redhead halfling pulled herself off the ground. Sharp pain pierced her ankle and she almost ended up back in the dirt. Juniper used her crossbow as a walker and wobbled to Samophlange, who singlehandedly defeated the sleeping bugbear. "Good job! This one looked quite scary. Reminded me of my aunt too, but she was more hairy." The halfling pulled her crossbow bolt from the goblin she shoot earlier, took out rope, and started tying him up.
"Your powers inspired me, Korr, and a few of the others with us. Know that. I see the redheaded halfling and the gnome from the turnip wagon still walking about, and they too joined in the fight. I see even Braz has not fallen. Think you that there be tonandurr bark about? His feet will benefit from it."
"Tonandurr trees around here? I suppose it is possible, but certainly not any further north! The hospital back in Neverwinter would ship it from Baldur's Gate to the south, though there were one or two trees that grew in local greenhouses. Let's reconvene with the others, I reckon they know more about the area."
Korrlan slowly walked in the direction of the curious gnome and the halfling spellcaster.
"Juniper Churlgo, a sorceress of some renown" the halfling shook the gnome's hand. She finished tying up the goblin up and replied to Samophlange's question "A girl doesn't kiss and tell." The goblin was now wrapped in sturdy hempen rope and tied up with a pretty bow. "Did you search the hairy big'un?" Without waiting for a response, she grabbed the unconscious goblin by the ears and started pulling him towards the rest of the caravaneers and their pile of knocked-out bandits.
By the time he had remember this story in full, the two of them had removed the quarrel. The other shortly followed.
Brace then moved away from his brother, as the latter applied pressure to the wounds. The apothecary walked to the dagger stuck in the side of the wagon and retrieved it. He stared at the bloody blade for a moment, in thought, then moved to the fancier dagger still protruding from the other goblin's skull. Placing his foot upon the smaller creature's chest, he yanked it out, then wiped the blood off both daggers on the grass.
He was standing near the gnome now. "You seem to be an adventurer, saer gnome," he said. "What is the proper thing to do with these bodies? Do we burn them? or bury them?"
"Don't be silly, gnome-friend! We don't even have all the bodes dead yet!... Are we adventurers now?! This is exciting!" Juniper cheerfully exclaimed and proudly presented a neatly tied goblin with a bow. "He does feel quite wet though, he might be bleeding." The halfling looked around and sized the humans and a hurt elf. "Greetings! Juniper Churlgo, a sorceress of some renown. Charmed, I'm sure." She curtsied at the group of strangers in front of her. Wobbled on her hurt ankle with a smile that did not leave her face.
"A clergy you say, do you know of which deity?", Korrlan said, interested. He had hoped to meet with other Ilmatari priests, now that the Revered Mother and his colleagues had passed or had been left behind. Maybe he'd even meet a Twice-Martyred! Intrigued, he introduced himself. "I'm Korrlan Splitbark, one of the Adorned." He reached for his cloak to show the symbol of Ilmater, but remembered he had ripped it off to quell the elf's bleeding. "Let us four check on the elf, and then the halfling."
Then he said to the others, "I am going to see if I can find any tonandurr; I do not know if I will recognize the tree, as I have only dealt with the bark, but maybe Tymora will smile on me. Do any of you know it?"
Survival check: 16 + 5 + 2 (circumstance bonus) = 23 (+2 bonus if anyone assists vs. DC 10) vs. DC 15: success
"Adorned in what?" The halfling wizard looked at the priest inquisitively. Juniper moved to the incapacitate goblin leader and poked him in the face. "Are we sure he's still alive? He looks paler than my great aunt was when she found out her daughter was knocked up." She grabbed Skar by his foot and started dragging him closer to the tied up goblin (that's where the rope was). "It would be so much easier if we just cut his tendons or crack his kneecaps. This guy is heavy like a well-fed calf!"
A Parent's Plea
Feeling overlooked and alone with his despair, Blaz at last picked himself up off the road and limped on bare and burnt feet back to his wagon and the elf lass who'd tried to save him. Her quiet defiance was the last thing he'd seen and heard before being knocked out. Now, it looked like she'd paid for that as badly as he had, if not worse. "Thank you." he said to her, softly and simply but emphatically.
Juniper finished tying the two goblins together with her trusty hempen rope. The hin wizard looked at her work. Skar's restraints - shabby work. The bow looked flaccid, and now the rope was stained with the other goblin's oozing bodily fluids. She looked up at the pleading halfling, and her mind quickly darted to Eustachia, her dear sweet little sister. A mere thought of having her kin being held hostage by dirty unwashed evil bandits boiled the little spellcaster's blood more than the first time she felt the arcane magics sizzle up her insides. "An old beardy sheepherder in Shadowdale once told me - There are only two precious things on earth: the first is love; the second, a long way behind it, is intelligence." Juniper looked around, waiting for a reaction. "Adventurers or not (but we sure as Hells are), any goodly creature, I think, should try their best to help. Look at the man. He has nowhere else to turn..." Juniper shook her disheveled mane of hair that looked like she had flames scorching her scalp in the last rays of the bright red evening sun. She was surprised to care so much for the fellow halfling.
"Perhaps we can follow the goblin that got away, but what can you tell us about when and where they were taken? Was it earlier, on another journey down this very road? How is it that these bandits seem to have known you? Why was it that they seemed only to care about taking little folk like yourselves alive and slaying the rest?"
But at all of Brace's questions, on things he'd been wondering himself for tendays, Blaz grew flustered, even angry, snapping "How would I know why the bloody goblins did it?" But he caught himself; anger would not help his sons. He sat down wearily on the step at the back of his wagon, feeling relieved to get off his burnt feet. "Would you big folk rather drag a giant around or someone your own size? I don't know. But they took them, alive, for some awful reason." he said morosely.
""Oooh! Oooh!" Juniper bounced up with outstretched hand. "I once walked all over my mom's kitchen and tracked mud all over it. She gave me quite a whooping, calling me a dirt-tracker... Does this count?"
Camping
But as much as they might want to go after the goblin right now, all of them had to accept they were too battered and too light on magic to risk facing the Hark's bandits again. Moreover, the sun was now setting, causing the trees to cast long deep shadows, and for unskilled eyes, tracking the goblin through the forest in twilight could be difficult, even dangerous. So, they would go on to the campsite, rest the night, and set off soon after sunrise. They left unspoken the grim realization that if the goblins had kept the halflings alive this long, then another day might not make too much difference.
With the bodies out of the way and travelers back on their wagons, the caravan rolled off once more, glad to leave the battle-site behind them. Another hour of travel with the sunset at their backs, and they'd arrived at the promised campsite. There was a wide, cleared campground, a spot for a fire ringed with rocks, supplies of brush and firewood, and logs and stumps to sit on. With a view to defense, the travelers circled the wagons and began to make camp under the twilight.
Sitting on the rolled-out mat, he looked over the crude leather armor pieces that he had taken from the body of the fallen bugbear and one of the little goblins' crossbows and contemplated.
Korrlan sunk to his knees atop his mat, thought back to the recent past, and initiated a prayer to the Broken God:
Beings of flesh burned from inside and out, but there was no blaze.
For what I speak of is the Wailing Death, which rages more than any inferno.
I pray to you, Ilmater, to comfort those trapped in the confines of the city where winter never comes.
For if winter should come, all will be lost.
His mind still in turmoil, the youngest Splitbark tossed and turned, until he finally drifted off.
OOC: Korrlan casts cure minor wounds on Ilrien, curing 1 HP, and casts it twice on himself, curing 2 HP.
Juniper had been glancing at the goblins every time she looked up from the spellbook—mostly because she did not want to lose her ropes if they managed to escape. With an immodest yawn, she put down the book and looked around. Juniper noticed the elven lass approach the prisoners. With a grunt, she got up from lying on her backpack and grabbed the quarterstaff. Approaching the elf she overheard a bit of the conversation. "You have red tigers?!" she squeaked.
Intimidation roll: 16
OOC:Intimidation assist: 10-1=9
OOC:Assuming Ray of Frost hits a restrained target: 3 cold damage
"Stings a bit, but yeah."
"You didn't tell them about the pit, did you?"
"No. Shh!"
Act II – On the Trail
Morning
Place: Along the Delimbiyr Route between Zelbross and Loudwater, in the Delimbiyr Vale.
Time: Shortly before twilight; Flamerule 30, the Summertide, 1372 DR.
Weather: Fine.
I killed someone yesterday, two people.
It would be easy to try to argue that they were not people, since they had yellowish skin and pointed ears and jagged teeth and barely passed my navel, but goblins have wives and families and jobs, do they not?
I would have expected to feel some regret or weight at taking life, but I feel no such thing. It is not just the fact that I was enraged when I did it, that I was trying to save my brother's life and those of the others in the caravan. No, I am not angry now; I have simply become immune to the shock of death. The blood, how was it any different than the oil of vitriol or liquid silver that I have bottled in Luth's laboratory? It is but a liquid made from the elements like all else; why should seeing it seep from a forehead as I remove my dagger mean anything to me? They tried to raid us; they died, as all persons do, and better that they die than us.
But is it better? Is it better to be alive? Why did I not simply let them take me, take us? Would that not be a faster way to join my Kethra? I cannot explain it, but still some part of me wants to go on, and I do not want to go on alone.
Korr is very shaken. He feels that the Broken God continues to abandon him, and I cannot blame him, for I agree. I tried to encourage him. Were it not for the power of his prayer at the beginning of the battle, never would I have left the wagon to fight. I envy his bravery, even in the midst of his doubts and anger.
He thinks that I played a greater role than I did, said that it reminded him of Mother. Pity I did not inherit her magical talents.
The small group of us who partook in the fighting to defend the caravan now find ourselves about to embark on a little mission together, at the request of Blaz. Three of the group seem already to have adventuring experience, but none of us are trackers. Two of them forced one of the goblin survivors to spill something about a "pit of death". Once packed, we shall head back up the road whither we were ambushed, thence to attempt to track the sole fleeing goblin whence he came, to find this pit.
Gwaeron bless our efforts.
Slipping away from serenity, Korr again reopened his annotated tome, which contained all he knew about the One Who Endures. Maybe with a fresh mind he would see a different perspective. "Chapter VII: The Orders," the intrigued priest softly said as he scanned through the contents. He had mostly read about the monastic and clerical Ilmatran organizations similar to his own. Such groups were the Order of the Golden Cup, who eased the suffering of others through the means of healing, and the Alleviators, who taught others how to deal with suffering. "Why alleviate suffering, when one can prevent it in the first place?" Korr muttered again, frustrated.
As the priest reached the latter half of the chapter, he raised an eyebrow. "Knightly orders? I'm no paladin!" he tittered. Korrlan had always been told by the Revered Mother not to bother with the second part of Chapter VII. Apparently, it simply wasn't relevant. He went to shut the book as he always had done at this point, but this time, he did not. Korr instead read on, and on, and on, until he reached the penultimate section, which detailed those of noble heart. These holy warriors made it their mission to hunt down those that would cause suffering. "Stop suffering before suffering occurs…," the cleric spoke, nodding understandably. A wave of enthusiasm overcame Korrlan, and he offered a prayer to Ilmater. This time, he would stop suffering in a different manner.
OOC: Spells Korrlan prays for:
Orisons: light, mending, detect magic
Level 1: bane (domain, cannot be spontaneously converted), bless, divine favor
Search assist: 8 + 7 = 15: Success (+2 to above roll)
Merry as a Grig
As the group paused at the tonandurr tree and a peaceful silence fell over them—interrupted only by the chattering of the moody priest and the strange halfling—Samo took a few steps away from the rest of the group. He closed his eyes to tune out the others and listened intently to the wind. No, not just the wind. There was something else there, very faint, off in the distance somewhere—barely discernible through the soft sounds of the forest. A violin?
He turned back toward his fellow adventurers and motioned for them all to be quiet. He spoke, barely above a whisper, "Listen. I think someone is playing music nearby." He could hear it more clearly now, albeit still faint. The tune sounded energetic and cheerful, like something one might dance a jig to.
OOC: Listen check - nat. 1; Knowledge Arcana check - roll 2+8, 10
Sure enough, they stumbled upon the tree itself a short distance later, sitting in a sort of clearing. It seemed to Brace that they had almost been led to this spot, by a higher power perhaps? Odd. What were the odds…?
As Brace examined the trunk of the spindly tree, he heard Korr utter valid concerns about more enemies being present in these woods and being too physically weak with all of their recent wounds and injuries. Then the gnome claimed to have picked up the sound of music nearby.
Knowledge (Nature) check: 11 + 3 = 14: Success
"Fey?" the apothecary asked, to no one in particular.
Then, as Brace touched the tonandurr tree, it all stopped, plunging the glade into near silence. Then Brace heard soft staccato whines, from up amongst the branches.
Spot check: 3 + 5 = 8
He saw nothing, but he took a defensive posture.
Total defense action: +4 AC
As the speaker said this, it came piece by piece into view out from under the leaves, scuttling along a branch some eight feet off the ground. From four hairy insectoid feet and a cricket-like body rose a humanoid torso, wearing fine silken robes and medallions. Spindly arms and hands held a violin and bow. Lastly, his head showed pale blue skin, green hair and long antennae held back by a thin golden band, and a deeply angular face with a supercilious expression. And in total, he stood little more than fourteen inches tall.
Brace gave an awkward but obviously sincere bow. "Forgive us for trespassing, saer. We have entered your woods only out of the greatest necessity and your principality only by accident, as we stumbled upon the seeds of this tree, which I recognized might give the injured among us some comfort." He motioned to Ilrien's bandaged legs and his brother's torn and stained clothes. "We mean to find the band of goblins that waylaid us last nightfall. They took prisoner the sons of our caravan leader. We can immediately leave your region to return to the trail, though we do not know its borders and we have lost the trail…."
Brace lost confidence in what he was saying and frantically glanced around at the others, hoping one of them would continue this dialog for him.
But at the end, after Korr and Juniper had also said their pieces, he relented and lowered the violin again, remarking, "Well, finely enough you speak for big folk, so the offense I shall forgive. Clearly you realize you stand in the presence of royalty—yes, I am Feythrin, groef of this land. You have heard of me, of course. And yes, I know all about the goblins and their holes. I know all that goes on within my domain and without. I do not know how those seeds can help you, but you may take those that fall on the ground and be on your way." He gave them a dismissive wave.
OOC: knowledge nature 8+4 12.
Meanwhile, Feythrin sniffed and put on a show of thinking over Brace's proposal, before appearing quite affronted at the idea. "You wish to cut bark, from my tree?" he exclaimed indignantly. He narrowed his eyes in an interrogating gaze. "I suppose, by the same token, if I were to come to you with an urgent need for hide, you would gladly give up some of yours?"
Brace tried to knock the seed out of Juniper's hands before she could put it in her mouth, but he was too late. "Sili!" he yelled. "I mean, Juniper! Spit that out now! The seeds are poisonous when whole; you have to extract the healing essences. You cannot just eat it; it will make you sick!"
OOC: Sleight of Hand: 15+4
She tried to bite her stubby tongue to make saliva wash the ungodly taste out of her mouth. "Whoth Thili?" she asked curiously with her tongue still between her teeth.
Then, after a few moments' thought, the groef relented. "Very well, I shall let you have your bark and the way to the goblins' holes too. Consider it a bonus. But, in all things, a price must be paid. You have interrupted my grand recital, so… you will entertain me. Any form of artistic expression you are halfway capable of shall do."
"But do your best, or I shall be very disappointed."
OOC: Performance: 11-1, 10
Where the dryad Olsheirie dwells,
Dancing where a keep once stood
Girt with magic of chiming bells.
Though to stray so deep is the act of a fool;
I regret no stride toward Starfall Pool.
Trees old and green, dark and still
Ring 'round an oak as old as time,
Fall down keep and rise up hill,
Rest and hear the dryad rhyme.
He lowered them in time for Ilrien's song, his eyes widening in delight and turning his legs out to better take it in. At the end, he clapped eagerly and chirped by rubbing his wings together. "Very good, very good! Almost impressive!" he cheered. "I know the real Olsheirie, of course. She is indeed as fine a dancer as they say. Particularly in tap."
Now, he directed his gaze at Brace, Korr, and Samophlange. "And do you three dare to entertain me? It really is a high honor I am granting you. You would not wish to pass it up."
The wizard has a staff with a knob on the end
Of it. The wizard has a staff with a knob on the end of it.
The wizard has a staff with a knob.
The jaunty tavern song went on like that for quite a while, its lyrics veering into other descriptions of a wizard's staff. All the while, Samo clapped his hands and did his best to give a lively and animated performance. "The Wizard's Staff" was a real crowd-pleaser at the Copper Coronet, after all, but it was all in the execution.
Perform (Sing): 20 + 0 = 20
"Very well, you may take some bark, but no more than would harm the tree."
Brace nodded respectfully and examined the tree carefully, trying to find living branches with minimal further branching, that is, those branches that would supply him with fresh tonandurr sap within the bark, with minimal chance of harming the tree's leaves if the wound from removing the bark did not heal well and the branch later became infected. He was not a botanist or an arborist, but he was comfortable in nature and thought that he had found a good branch to perform his cuts. Taking his father's dagger, recently sharpened that morning, he began carefully making the slits and then prying the bark away from the cambium. He made sure that the strips were only an inch in width, a fraction of the branch's circumference, to ensure that the branch had a good chance of surviving the wound.
Having gathered enough strips to tend to their own wounds, he crouched at the ground to prepare the bark for use, leaving the others to question the fey prince about the location of the pits while he set to work. Once he had the bark in hand, he knew exactly what to do and did it with superb precision, peparing a sort of bandage from each one with torn bits of cloth, using his sewing needle and thread to fasten the strips, phloem-side up. The bark itself he punctured at exactly the right places and with the right depth to ensure an even and slow transmission of the sap's healing essences to the damaged skin of each of the wounded. He did not look up from his task again until he had finished, ready to apply the bark to those who wanted it, including to his own damaged chest.
Profession (Apothecary) check to prepare tonandurr bark bandages: 20 + 5 = 25
"Now, I really must return to my recital. For your courteous words, you're welcome to stay and listen, if you like?" And with that, he began to play his violin once more, beginning with a bubbly little bit before embarking on the full melody, his rapidly sliding bow producing a sweet and energetic jig and conducting the buzzing insects and the rustling leaves and the whispering wind itself into his orchestra. And he danced too, hopping and capering along the branch and kicking all four of his legs this way and that.
The tune was infectious, and made those who listened want to tap their feet—in fact, they couldn't help tapping their feet—and shaking their legs, and bobbing their bodies, and swaying to the left and to the right, and bursting into glorious dance.
- Will save DC 12 or be compelled to dance as per Otto's irresistible dance, but you're free to dance your way out of the scene. :)
He turned to the others. "I think we should leave before this performance gets any… uh, livelier." Samophlange hoisted his backpack back on and started walking in the direction the little bug-man had pointed.
Will save: 16 + 0 = 16
OOC: Will save: 8 + 6 = 14
Korrlan is at full health
Will save 20+2=22
OOC: Will Save 9+4=12
The powerful music seemed to have little effect on Brace, so engrossed he was in his work, but after he handed off a couple of the bandages to his brother, he noticed that the two shorter adventurers had already started off, while the fey cricket prince was performing. He felt like he owed the prince the dignity of a listen, so he lingered. It really was quite fascinating to observe and to hear, and he wondered if he would have such an opportunity again. He waited and watched until Ilrien and Korr were walking away—tapping his feet certainly, but not quite giving in to the urge to jump and twirl—and then he followed after, giving his best effort at an applause to the grig before passing out of sight in the trees. The music followed them for some distance before dwindling off into silence. They were alone in the forest once again.
As the Crow Flies?
"I do not have much hope for this quest of ours, Brother," he said quietly, coming up beside Korr. "I have not spotted any crows, and the trees are so thick that I cannot make out exactly where the sun is to ensure that we are even continuing on the same bearing that we started since leaving the little cricket–man. We are also making such a racket that the goblins will know we are coming long before we arrive. Do you think that these other three are truly adventurers? Because I am thinking more and more that they know as little as we about such things."
Then, after a few hours, they saw the crows. The black birds were wheeling through the eastern sky, obviously attracted to something below. When they found a good view of the tree-covered land as it sloped gradually away to the south and east, they saw the center of the crows' interest—a stand of blue-leafed trees straddling a large and deep gulch, which cracked the earth and ran south, doubtless carrying a lesser tributary of the great River Delimbiyr. It was some five miles away and a few more hours' hike.
Still looking toward the horizon, he asked, "Brace, was it? Do you recognize those trees with the blue leaves?"
Adressing the others while putting on his decisive adventurer voice, he said, "By my estimate, we're a couple of hours away. If we're all good to continue I would suggest we approach in silence. There's no telling how many goblin assassins are lurking ahead." Samo's plan was, of course, inspired by the climactic finale of The Hin Avenger, where the hero had to sneak his way into the villain's mountaintop lair. He just hoped there wouldn't be quite as many dragons along their route. One dragon would be more than enough for now.
The diminutive wizard reminded herself about the goblins and their dreaded holes, ignoring that voice at the back of her head that told her of wonders of trees ablaze with azure. "Should we stick together and approach? Or try and spread out, in case the gobbos have 'booyag'?"
OOC: will save roll to resist compulsion - nat 20.
Head down in thought and not paying attention to where he was going or what Brace was asking him, he walked away from his brother and close to the elf. Korr snapped back into reality after hearing Ilrien say the word "bandit", and he motioned to the group to halt. "Let us have a quick rest," he said, holding his head. "If there are bandits out here, or goblin traps, we should scout the area." As the adventurers, if this is what they indeed were, stopped for a moment, Korrlan scrunched his hand into a ball. He then rotated his wrist and unfurled his hand finger by finger, as if tracing a magical symbol in the air. The procedure ended with a set of mystical words and an open-palm pressed against Ilrien's back. "You're looking much better, though still… rather pale… is that your normal complexion?" he questioned the moon elf.
Standing back up, he extended his thumb and pushed his rolled-up index finger into it, forming a pinhole. Korr then looked ahead, behind, and above, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary.
OOC: Korr casts cure minor wounds twice; Ilrien is now back at full HP.
Spot check: 15 + 4 = 19
The Pits
Soon, they set off again, heading for the blueleaf stand, and before long found themselves amongst its fringe. The blueleafs grew some forty feet tall and had trunks so slender they bent in the breeze but grew so close together they supported one another via their branches tangled together in the canopy. Disappointingly, while the star-shaped leaves had a distinct blueish gleam, their famous glow was muted in the midday sun. Maybe at night they would really shine. But for now, the light was only gloomy and faintly tinged an eerie blue.
Following a game path as it wound its way into the woods, they found the air inside was stuffy and muggy. No doubt the canopy trapped moisture thrown up by the fast-moving river nearby, which they could hear but not yet see. Its roar, telling of strong rapids, drowned out all other noise but the occasional squawk of the crows coming from deeper in the wood. At last, the game path came to a fork directly in front of an unusually thick and seemingly out-of-place oak, surrounded by countless crows. As they moved around it on the right-hand path, they came upon a grisly scene.
Roughly carved into the oak tree's trunk was the image of a double-bitted battleaxe, standing upright, with wide-curved blades from which droplets fell. It faced a pit, several feet wide and ringed by the remains of cooking fires, where bits of charred wood and bone poked through the cold gray ash, and a flat-topped tree stump covered in deep notches and dried brown blood. The pit itself was almost five feet deep and littered with hundreds if not thousands of bones and body parts, some clearly cooked and gnawed upon, others raw with gore and gristle in various stages of decay.
One after the other, the crows dived down into the pit to steal some gruesome treat, flew out it with in their beaks, then sat upon surrounding branches to devour it and wait for their next turn. Now and then they fought, usually tearing the flesh apart or losing the prize—an eye landed in the dirt at Ilrien's feet. Others cawed warnings at the travelers who'd disturbed their feasting.
OOC: Listen check 16+3
Spot check: 16 + 5 = 21
"I haven't heard of wolves being quite this... organized," Samophlange replied to Juniper. He had never actually seen a wolf, strictly speaking, but felt confident he was right. Unless these were werewolves. "Weregoblins?" he thought aloud, and made a mental note to remember the concept if he ever wrote a book of his own.
"Korr, I echo our leader's question; have you seen this symbol in your religious studies?"
OOC: Religion check: 9 + 2 = 11
OOC: Spot check for halfling bits - 13+1
At last, and with some relief, they turned their backs on the shrine and took the left-hand path around the oak. It took some time, but eventually they came to another clearing, this one much tidier, but no less strange. At the center of this clearing was another pit, several feet wide, its edge ringed with large, smooth river stones and its walls rough and riddled with roots and rocks. Thankfully, there were no carcasses and sacrifices stuffed in this pit. Instead, it descended over ten feet to a dry earthen floor, where a small tunnel led away to the south. So this was the pit the goblin captive had let slip.
Matching Brace's volume and tone, he said "Should we go and scout it out?"
OOC: Stealth ability check - nat 1
Act III – The River Cave
On the Rocks
OOC: Spot check: 19 + 4 = 23.
Search check: 18 + 7 = 25
Climb check: 6 + 2 = 8
Climb: 17+2 =19
Climb: 1 - 1 = 0
Climb: Nat 20 plus 0
Then it got harder.
Korrlan, still standing atop the cliff, scanned the opposite side of the gulch and glimpsed small, shadowed crevices or holes amongst the rocks, some way downriver around the bend. He was trying to work out whether they might be hollows for birds' nests or openings to more caves, when he got his answer—crossbow bolts, flying out at his companions!
One cracked against the rocks by Brace's head. It didn't hit, but the surprise made him lose his footing and start to fall. [Attack 5, miss] The other went wide of Juniper, a smaller, harder target. [Attack 2, miss] But the hidden goblin crossbowmen would find their targets soon.
Climb: 17+2 =19 (same roll?!); Spot chekc: 10+1 =11
OOC: Ranged attack with a crossbow. 1 - 1 = 0. Critical miss!
Samo uses whatever movement he has to get to safety, then uses his action to ready his crossbow.
Spot check: 4 + 5 = 9
Listen check: 4 + 1 = 5
OOC: Samophlange moves about 10 feet into the cave, not further. He's not a hero, he just plays one.
OOC: Nat 1+1
White Water
The raft, meanwhile, looked a bit rickety, but was serviceable and big enough to accommodate all five of them (it helped that two of them didn't take up much space). A long stout pole lay atop it, showing the raft was piloted by poling against the riverbed. They only needed to hop onboard, push their way down the river and to the other side, and hope for the best.
Search check: 4 + 7 = 11
Ilrien took the first step onto the raft, and found it sturdy. Picking up the pole, she experimented with, well, poling it. It was quite simple: by pushing the pole back against the riverbed, she could propel it forward, and by pushing it against the rocks, she could try to keep it from being stuck or broken. It did require close attention and awareness of the currents and rocks and judging how much force to apply. And while the river would simply carry the raft downriver, there were many ways it could be caught or capsized. The others could assist, not by grabbing the pole, but by paddling or finding other means of pushing the raft away from the rocks.
One by one, they stepped aboard the raft...
Aid another: 2 - 1 = 1
Then a goblin-made crossbow bolt thudded into the raft, followed by another that sank into the water. Their friends were still up there too.
OOC: Raft moves 40 feet, turns, and goes downriver 25 feet.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EnHiAuvi9w
Juniper grabbed the bolt, and only just missed catching another, that thudded into the log only inches from her arm! But now, at least, she had two bolts. But what would she do with them?
Then they saw it, rounding the bend in the river to the south—there was a second raft, and three goblins were on it. While one poled it, much more slowly as he tried to go against the current, the others leveled their crossbows and fired! One of the bolts nicked Brace.
OOC: You've moved 40 feet downriver. Goblin shooting nest is 20 feet up on the right-hand side, 80 feet downriver from your current position. They have improved cover, so they're very hard to hit. Goblin raft is 100 feet downriver.
To save time, I'll roll Korrlan's raft-handling Wisdom checks myself, including an average +4 Aid Another bonus from the party.
Brace is hit for 15 and takes 1 damage. I'm ignoring penalties to AC and attack due to raft motion, as it all seems to cancel out.
OOC: Magic Missile at the goblin. damage 4+1.
Ranged attack w/ small light crossbow: 4 + 1 = 5: miss
Ranged attack with a masterwork longbow: 15+3=18: if hits, then 6 damage.
In comparison, Korrlan polled the raft with expert care, veering this way and that to evade the shafts that fell around them. It carried them past the sniper's nest in the cliffs above until the river turned eastward and they were finally safely out of the line of fire.
Rodents of Unusual Size
Thankfully, he could not even feel the pain in his arm from his newest wound. He happened to notice the series of tiny tunnels in the walls. He was not especially learned in the tunneling habits of animals or monsters, but they felt familiar to him, and they certainly did not look natural.…
Untrained knowledge check: 17 + 3 = 20
Ranged "attack": 7 + 3 = 10
Bending down to inspect the tracks leading into the cavern, he was immediately reminded of one of the (several) appendixes attached to The Rat-Catcher of Selgaunt. Samo didn't normally bother with novels—they were generally far too long and plodding for his liking. Still, he'd read this one, mostly out of a morbid curiosity at the author's seeming obsession with rats. That obsession extended to rat physiology as well, and so the appendix in question had contained sketches of sundry rat varieties, their tracks included.
"Ahem," he said, ignoring Brace's shushing, "These are dire rat tracks. You can tell from the gentle curvature of the outer toe... and the size." Samo turned to Juniper, his face betraying nothing but steely resolve and confidence. "But this changes nothing. We should forge ahead. Lives may depend on it."
After a short but tense wait, they glimpsed dark, fuzzy bodies shifting in the shadows, sunlight glinting off long fangs and claws and beady eyes. Then the beasts crept cautiously out of their burrows—five enormous rats, bigger and more dangerous-looking than most dogs. The largest were well over four feet from the nose to the base of the much longer naked tail, and they had coarse spiky fur, powerful claws, vicious-seeming faces, and long wickedly sharp incisors that would do more than gnaw, but tear flesh apart. To those who'd seen dire rats, whether safely in books or unsafely in the flesh, these creatures were longer and leaner, almost like otters. They weren't to know it yet, but these were lightning rats, a local breed of dire rat adapted to life along and in the Delimbiyr River.
With twitchy, whiskery noses, the rats stretched forward and inspected the offerings, backed up sharply, then pounced on the prizes. It was good! They carried the meat away first, turning and darting back into their burrows, and it almost seemed safe to pass then, before they came back for the bread.
The rats didn't return.
Seeming safe to pass now, they only had to cross the space, go up the stair, and enter the goblin bandit lair...
OOC: Knowledge (nature) or Intelligence check DC 10 (common knowledge) to recognize it's not a regular dire rat.
Listen check: 11 + 1 = 12
OOC: Knowledge (Nature) check: 2
Goblin Lair
Then goblins scrambled out of side tunnels and took up positions at the top of the stair: the two goblin crossbowmen who'd no doubt been taking potshots at them earlier, and a third, who looked almost familiar—it was the one who escaped the ambush yesterday! He stood between the crossbowmen and pointed accusingly. "It's them! The ones I told you about! Get them!" He insisted in frantic Goblinish, but they were still reloading their crossbows. Another loitered behind the group, perhaps crowded out, perhaps cowardly.
Ranged attack w/ small light crossbow: 4 + 1 = 5: miss
To hit goblin #3: 13 + 5 = 18
18 hits. Damage: 2.
Korrlan moves forward 15 ft, casts bane upon the goblins.
OOC:crossbow shot 17+4, assuming that hits. Damage 4.
But all four began to feel doubt, followed soon after by fear and pain, as Korrlan's spell gave them each an inkling of what their victims had suffered. The goblins started to weep in despair, and their hands shook. Just one of the crossbowmen, the cruelest, managed to shake it off. 'No!' he spat. 'Stuff your booyahg!' [#2, #3, and #4 fail save; bane: −1 attack and saves vs fear. #1 passes.]
Then Juniper shot him in the chest, and he dropped face-first on the stair. [#1 downed]
16+3=19 to hit, only 1 damage to the
"I told you we shoulda fed them!" Lek shouted back, finally drawing his sword. Sized for a goblin, a gnome, or a halfling, its polished blade gleamed brightly, even in the dimness of the cave. Alchemical silver! This was the sword of Corkaury Merrymar that Blaz had told them about. Taking a brave step forward, he waved it menacingly in the air, shouting in crude Common. "Hey! You want halflings? Come get what's left!"
Meanwhile, the other goblin loitering behind now dashed in, scooping up the crossbow of his fallen comrade—now nothing more than something to kick off and out of the way—and tried to finished loading it. How did it lever back like that?
Ranged attack w/ small light crossbow: 18 + 1 = 19: hit
Damage: 1d6 = 3
To hit goblin #3: 4 + 5 = 9
Probably a miss...
OOC: Korrlan, Juniper, Ilrien are up.
OOC: To hit closest goblin: 5 - 1 = 4
OOC: Crossbow atack 2+3.
3+3=6 to hit Lek. Likely a miss
'How dare you?! We would never kiss rats!' Lek spat back at Juniper in outrage, speaking in the Goblin tongue and apparently not realizing she'd revealed that she did too. Then he too scrambled out of sight.
Now, the stairway was undefended, the way was clear. But had the goblins retreated, or merely prepared a better ambush? What other surprises lay within their lair?
Move to N14
Search check to detect traps: 11 + 7 = 18
OOC: Juniper moved to O13.
Ilrien starts up the stairs, activating Steel Shadows as she does so (her AC increases by 6)
Ilrien went a little further, and heard echoing around the corner and down the stair the sounds of feet stamping on stone, frantic goblin cursing, and the rattling of a cage...
Move to K7
Listen check: 7 + 1 = 8
Spot check: 17 + 5 = 22
Ilrien to J7.
Listen check: 1+2=3
Spot check: 12+3=15
OOC: Juniper moved from O13 to J9.
OOC: Moves to L5
But in the center of the cavern was a big, rickety-looking wooden cage, lashed together from thick sticks and twine, but strong enough to hold the beast inside—a massive beetle, the size of a large dog, black shelled and with bright glowing red patches on its head and abdomen. That explained the source of the light. The source of the noise, meanwhile, was the third goblin, desperately trying to unleash the beast. But the crude locking bar, as was so often the case when one was in a hurry, had gotten stuck. Lek swore and forced and rattled it, while the others shouted advice. "You have to jiggle it!" "Push it back and try again!" "I said we should grease it!"
Move to K4
Untrained knowledge check: 15 + 3 = 18
Ranged attack w/ small light crossbow: 2 + 1 = 3: miss
OOC: Juniper moved from J9 to J4. Magic Missile spell on Lak. Oh boy, 4+1 force damage’’
The last two goblins whipped their loaded crossbows up and aimed at their enemy.
Samo moves to K5.
OOC: Ilrien takes a 5-foot step to J6, then takes a shot at goblin #2. 11+3=14 to hit
The other took a step back and fired, but it too missed. He threw down the unloaded crossbow, and reached for a crude morningstar... [Goblin #4 to N6]
That was it: they were the last two left, they were outnumbered, their leader was down, the baneful spell had demoralized them, and they'd all had rotten luck besides. But they would take their chances though. The idea of retreating and answering to Hekkut seemed far worse. They would die as goblins!
…unfortunately, just as Samophlange pressed the trigger on his crossbow, his arm bumped into Korrlan's left leg, throwing off his aim and causing the bolt to fly several feet wide. "Gah", exclaimed Samo, "stand still!"
Samo uses his move action to reload.
OOC:Juniper rolled 19+4 on crossbow attack. Damage:2 (crit on 19, total damage 4+2).
OOC: Moves to M6.
Attack with masterwork mace: 16 + 2 + 1 = 19. Finally a hit! Damage: 6 + 2 = 8
Then Korrlan advanced into the cave—perhaps to get out of the way before the others could try shooting between his legs again, and risk hitting something else. As the last goblin standing raised his rusty morningstar, the cleric smote him with all the force of his renewed faith. The Broken God might not support all aspects of his strange new interpretation of doctrine, but he did still believe in his troubled priest. [Korr hits, goblin #4 downed]
And that was it. The goblins were defeated, the adventurers had won.
Mushrooms & Silver
In the cave's many cracks, corners, and crannies, there sprouted clusters of mushrooms. They were big and speckled gray mushrooms, and in many cases their thread-like mycelium spread over the older masses of naeth. The caps of some of the mature mushrooms had been broken apart and evidently consumed, going by the half-eaten mushrooms on the ground, both fresh and toasted over the fire. It was a simple but efficient food chain.
In the center of the cave, of course, was the cage containing the giant fire beetle, whose dull red glow provided the illumination. It was busy chewing on whatever goblin bits protruded between the bars. It was better, and fresher, than the scraps the goblins had tossed it.
The goblin bandits wore grubby leathers and their crude rusty morningstars and small battered crossbows had fallen from their hands, as had the shining silver-bladed short sword taken from Corkaury Merrymar. Lek had waved it around bravely, but never got the chance to put it to use, let alone good use. Maybe it could still be of benefit today, if someone snatched it away from the fire beetle.
Meanwhile, the two crossbow-goblins had quivers from which spilled their quarrels. They had some two dozen ordinary-looking bolts between them, and ten fine bolts with tips also of gleaming silver.
A clay vial, pouch, and roll of parchment to be used as tinder lay by the fire.
In the east, roughly cut stairs led down, into darkness.
Next he went to the vial, pouch, and parchment and carefully took up each to examine.
"Brother," he said, handing Korr the parchment, which he had already partially unrolled. He said nothing else and moved over to look at the glint of reflected red light coming from the spilled quarrels.
As Brace moved over to the fallen goblin’s ammunition, the hin wizard also walked around the cave picking up a handful of bolts to replace those lost in the fray. She stopped at one particularly plump mushroom as her stomach growled. Juniper used one of the goblins’ bolts to skewer the mushroom and then another one, until the bolt resembled a lackluster kebob. The wizard took a closer look at the amazing delectable chef Juniper’s bolt-kebob while trying to remember what she read in her highly used copy of Poisons and Known Antidotes… But recalled no telltale signs of poisonous mushrooms that matched these. She smiled and put the kebob away to return to later.
”Anything interesting in the rat-kisser’s pockets?” she asked while shuffling back to the goblin massacre site.
’’OOC:Knowledge, nature roll 7. Womp womp.’’
Roll 4d100 to recover bolts: 23, 85, 88, 39 (2 successes)
Knowledge check to see if Samo realizes fire beetles are dangerous: 11 + 2 = 13
Spellcraft roll: 13
"...Although," he added, "I would be surprised if there are any lycanthropes here." Goblin werewolves seemed a step too fantastical to Samo.
"We should not tarry," he then said to Samo. "But do any of us bear a torch? All I have is a tiny oil lamp, and we cannot expect a glowing insect to be present in every tunnel moving forward." As he spoke, he nonchalently grabbed a couple of the odd mushrooms and stuffed them into his belt pouch.
OOC: sleight of hand - 16+4.
And the rushed after the rest of the team who were quickly moving further away and deeper into the caves.
Left and Right
Lair of the Rat
All around them, the rough cave walls were covered with countless peculiar pictographs, displaying figures, symbols, and scenes. Many were carved with a blocky and savage hand, but others were inscribed as carefully and elegantly as a wizard's spellbook. In the firelight, they seemed to twist and writhe in unnatural ways, almost as if alive.
But, most of all, the chamber was dominated by the strange stone statue that squatted in the alcove at the far end, from whose head the magical, smokeless flames emanated endlessly. Although crude and lumpen, it depicted a powerful rat-like creature, with long incisors bared and red eyes burning wickedly.
Sitting at the side of the cave were three halflings, bound and gagged, with faces haggard, pale, and frightened. It was not hard to see why—fresh bloody bites marred their arms.
Then the obvious source of those nasty bites suddenly rose and whipped his head toward the invading adventurers, gasping in surprise "You're here?!" He seemed to be some kind of rat-man, a mix of features of giant rat, like those dire rats outside, and a tall man-sized goblin, perhaps a scrawny hobgoblin. But he looked decrepit and twisted, with hair falling out, as if this fusion of forms was not a healthy one. He was dressed in grubby moth-eaten robes adorned with numerous pouches and waved a staff with a knob on the end at the trespassers. "But you're too late!" he cackled, "The goblins may have shunned the gift of Hekkut the Molted, but come the full moon, these halflings will make fine rats!"
OOC: First in, best dressed—Samophlange is up!
Samo throws his lantern at Hekkut.
5 + 4 = 9
Immediately upon loosing his projectile, Samophlange turned and, with the hurried pace of a seasoned adventurer, advanced in the opposite direction from the monster, eking (and quietly eeking) past Korrlan and taking up a tactical position behind him.
For one long moment, all was silent as they all watched and waited, and wondered.
Until they heard a smash and a great woomph as burning oil splattered all around the inside of the shaft, sending a little fireball shooting up out of the hole. Afterward, flames licked and crawled up the dangling rope. "No! You fool!" Hekkut hissed as he saw his escape plan rapidly going up in literal smoke.
Then he ran forward, chasing with clawed hands outstretched to catch Samophlange, but the gnome was too nimble. So the outraged rat-man stopped short, dipped his fingers inside one pouch, then flung his hand forward, scattering colored sands and snarling out arcane words. It was like a rainbow poured out of his palm, a whirling funnel of vividly clashing colors that filled the tunnel and washed over Korrlan, Brace, and Samophlange, dazzling the eyes and the mind.
OOC: Juniper moved positioning herself behind Brace - K5. Magic Missile spell at Hekkut the Molted. 3+1 force damage.
But then Juniper's missile of force struck Hekkut across the face, making him reel and wince. "And you will join them for that, halfling!" in spat in a rage. "Your kind are already half rat!" [Hekkut takes 4 force damage, slightly injured]
OOC: Ilrien and Korrlan are up.
Casting Arrow of Dusk (ranged touch attack) 7+2=9 to hit. 2d4 nonlethal damage if it hits, which it probably did not.
But he could not evade divine punishment at the hands of the Painbearer. Hekkut hissed and squealed, a blood-curdling screech at the cave ceiling and he beat his tail on the ground, as that glow poured through Korrlan's hands and out the wererat's eyes and ears. [Korrlan hits, deals pain touch]
At last, Hekkut slipped loose and shot the priest a look of savage fury. "Like you can talk, human!" he spat, then snapped at Korrlan's hand with his long incisors, hoping to bite and infect with the priest with lycanthropy. But he missed, still too weak while Korrlan had been all too ready for this reaction. [Hekkut: bite attack 2, miss]
But, while the pair struggled, a small rat dropped out of Hekkut's filthy rags. It hit the ground running, scampering around Korrlan and running straight at Juniper! [Rat appears, moves from G5 to I5. Provokes AoO from Korrlan.].
OOC: No new map, please see updates in caption above. Juniper, Ilrien, and Korrlan are up next.
OOC: AoO, to hit: 7 + 3 = 10.
OOC: Crossbow - > Rat = 8+3+1, assuming 12 is a miss.
16+3=19 to hit the familiar; 7 piercing damage
OOC: Korrlan is up.
Then he backed contemptuously away, retreating to the hole and to his escape route. He'd need his strength and his magic to make the journey back to the Hark's lair...
The rat, discouraged by Ilrien's arrow, also turned and ran back to its master's side.
OOC: Korrlan may AoO the rat again. Korrlan, Juniper, and Ilrien may act.
OOC: AoO, to hit: 7 + 3 = 10.
OOC: Attack, to hit: 8 + 3 = 11.
9+3=12 to hit. Miss
But Hekkut the Molted seemed to neither notice nor care. "To me, Zuunt!" he squeaked, as the smaller rat ran back up his leg. "We must be away, through the Flayer's Corridors, and back to the Hark! These halflings will deal with these fools for us come the next full moon, I think!" he cackled. And with that he jumped dramatically down the hole, his large rat-like claws latching easily onto the earth and stone sides of the shaft as he climbed down, hand over hand, deeper and deeper into the black pit. But not fast enough, not with the holy pain still in his limbs. Yet he pressed on; his freedom was close.
However, after Samophlange had hurled his blazing lantern into the hole, Hekkut had overlooked the flames licking the ropes and net of his elaborate rock trap, which had been intended to seal his escape route after he used this passage for the final time. After; not before, and certainly not during. The fire had crawled slowly up the rope, across both sides of the rock bundle, and quite quickly over the oiled pulley. And now, more and more, it all came apart.
Burned bits of rope rained around Hekkut the Molted and singed his remaining fur. Then it was a rock, clipping his shoulder and forcing him to halt. And then, with a great whoosh, the whole load of rocks released and plummeted down the shaft, atop the wererat wizard, tearing him off the shaft wall and engulfing him utterly as fell. "Nooo—" he cried, but was cut off as he was buried in a great heap at the bottom. The passage was sealed, and the wererat was surely dead.
If Samophlange was conscious, no doubt he would say he'd planned that all along.
Meanwhile, it took approximately eighteen firm shakes for Juniper to get either Brace or Samophlange to stir, though—they were not just asleep, but unconscious. And even when they recovered, their eyes were unseeing and their minds clouded for almost half a minute. [Brace and Samo stunned and blinded for 4 rounds, then stunned for 1 round, then are clear]
OOC: Combat is over!
"Korr, the writing on the wall….
Spellcraft check: 8 + 7 = 15: fail
The writing on the wall was a chaotic scattering of strange pictographs, of figures, symbols, and whole scenes, ever varying in their design and matching no familiar script. Hekkut seemed to have had some compulsion to scratch these, yet no consistency or scheme in mind. Rats figured heavily, especially around the shrine, with veneration of some rat-man god. Or was it Hekkut himself?
OOC: Trying to see if there is anything magical about the scribbles. Arcana: 10+8.'
Looking over the carvings, Juniper recognized some common magical symbols: the spiral, the star, the little fishy-shaped thing, and so on. But none of them came together in anything resembling a spell, ward, or any other arcane writing. Eventually, by the structure, grammar, and the fact of who had written it, she realized it was likely written in the Goblin language, only without any of the Dethek runes normally used to write it down. Rather, Hekkut seemed to have used a pictographic code of his own devising. With some deciphering, they might make it legible.
Korrlan, meanwhile, examined the shrine, with its crude upright rat idol and the images inscribed on the alcove wall behind it. The sun and tree showed a world above ground, but below ground, stick-like figures venerated a giant rat, and a rat-headed wizard or shaman blazed in glory, as if a prophet of some kind. He'd heard rumors of this sort of thing back in Neverwinter, along with the talk of rat-men in the sewers. Supposedly they had a god too, a nasty but cowardly creature called... Squeak? Squerrik? It sounded like a joke.
OOC: Decipher script check: 6 + 0 = 6.
OOC: Knowledge (Religion) check: 20 + 2 = 22.
Finally ungagged and breathing easily, the three halflings gasped for air and spat out bits of threads and dust. 'Dad? He's here?' the youngest, Ombert, said hopefully as Ilrien mentioned the name of the Merrymar patriarch. Despite their deprivation and pain, all three had a family resemblance to Blaz Merrymar, with the eldest, Corkaury, even growing matching sideburns.
But he proved oddly resistant to Ilrien's help, even turning his bound hands away from her. 'No. Not released and not safe.' he said firmly, shaking his head in refusal and resignation. He nodded his head toward the bloody bite mark on his muscular arm; the sleeve had been ripped away, no doubt by Hekkut. Corkaury went on, his voice hollow and weary. 'That wererat got us. He said that hin make good wererats, and besides, the goblins wouldn't give up any of their own. He was just waiting for the full moon, but he bit us early when you heard you coming. Spiteful bastard.' he muttered, kicking a rock in frustration and suppressed anger.
'We put good men and women down after the Night of the Blood Moon.' he recalled grimly. 'I won't let this spread. Go. Just leave my sword.'
"We saved the town, they said, but it didn't feel like it. The weres just left, slunk away back into the trees as dawn broke. And afterward, people began to change. Then we were fighting our own. That's what they do, you see—they make us like them." he implored his audience, hoping to get them to understand the horror.
"After that, I retired and went home. Figured the family business would be more peaceful." Corkaury snorted in bitter ironic laugh.
Meanwhile, it took Samophlange some time to prise the gems out of the idol's eye-sockets. Then, no sooner had he slid off, the whole thing creaked and shuddered, and it seemed for one heart-stopping moment as if the stone rat might be coming alive! But then it cracked and crumbled apart, falling into a pile of broken clay.Ratsbane
Brace turned to the others. "There were two other tunnels left unexplored, were there not? I fear that more goblins remain—and more clues to what they have been planning. But these little folk have only a small window of time." He called to Samophlange. "Leader, can you guide me to the entrance? It is too dark for my human eyes. I can search the marshy areas around the water for the herb; perhaps, if Korlann say a prayer for me, Ilmater will favor me and I may find the plant that I seek in time. If we had time, I would suggest we go back and seek out the fey prince for knowledge of the plant's whereabouts in this area, but we do not have such time."
Samophlange had heard of wolfsbane, of course; lycanthropy was a common motif in the two-copper stories he consumed en masse back in Athkatla. He had even seen a drawing of the herb, once. "If you think it'll be useful, I can help you look for some wolfsbane. I've seen it before." He gestured for Brace to follow, and said "It shouldn't take long to get back to the river." With that, he started walking back down the tunnel they'd arrived from at a responsibly brisk pace.
"Ilmater, look upon them. Look upon those who have endured these troublesome times.
They did not sit back when action was needed, and their heroics saved countless lives.
Favour not me, Crying Lord, but the brothers Merrymar and brother of my own, Brace.
Allow them time, and guide them, for they seek the plants whose hoods are forever grape."
Then, as Korrlan uttered his prayer, the three Merrymars bowed their heads in respect to the Crying God, knowing his blessing would give them the strength to endure this evil, the change they could surely already feel creeping through their bodies.
After Brace and Samophlange hurried away, the middle one, the cousin Osco, looked to Korrlan with fresh hope in his eyes. Perhaps they just needed the distraction and the conversation. "So, you're a priest of Ilmater?" he asked. "Are you with the Monastery of St. Ulrach?"
~
Meanwhile, Brace and Samophlange climbed the stairs out and returned to the short, winding, branched tunnel. Their first turn was to the right, the way not taken earlier. It ended in a cave, strewn about with small wooden kegs, sacks of grain, bags, bolts of cloth, small crates, rolled rugs, piles of blankets, and wheels of cheese proudly bearing the letters 'CC'. Some of these cheeses had been gnawed on, apparently by the fire beetle they'd seen caged outside. Surely this was everything stolen from the Merrymars and others. But there were no more goblins, and no wolfsbane.
They would continue on back to the main cave. But was the fire beetle still in its cage, or was it loose?
"I'd like to see the Hearthcircle of Yondalla one last time." Ombert said wistfully, before adding "And mum and dad and the sisters too, of course."
"We can't." Corkaury corrected his younger brother firmly. "We can't take the risk of, of changing amongst them." He didn't want to say it, not to them. He didn't want to turning and attacking and infecting their own family. He sighed, not wanting to dash their hopes altogether. "Only if we get the cure. Only if it works."
~
Leaving the ill-gotten cheeses behind, Brace and Samo returned to the central cave, where they found the beetle cage—and its door wide open! The giant fire beetle was not in it and was nowhere to be seen, but this was not altogether reassuring. But since it didn't immediately pounce on them, it seemed safe to proceed. The fire beetle seemed to have munched on a few more goblin bodies on its way out of the cave and to freedom.
They found it dead outside, torn apart by hungry lightning rats. The well-fed rodents were no threat to the adventurers as they passed by.
The pair trekked along the river bank until it widened into an area of damp green undergrowth and shrubs, including glimmergrass and others, and looked out for wolfsbane. They spied one promising plant, but it turned out to only be goblinberry, so they moved on. It was an anxious search: their time was short, and the longer their search took, the longer it would take to get back, and the less time they would have to prepare the wolfsbane. Would they find it in time?
Then, as they entered a meadow shaded by blueleafs, they heard some familiar music...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RkSy6ElNIY
Next, they heard the music emanating from the far side of the meadow, and ran across it as fast as they could to catch the fleet-footed grig that was surely enjoying leading them on a merry chase. And they got there, and heard only silence. Gone again!
But when they looked behind the blueleaf trees, they saw a plant with green pointed leaves, purple bell-shaped flowers, and shiny black berries...
Brace pulled the plant out by its roots, knowing that they actually contained more of the potent medicine than the sprigs the less educated in such matters would usually consume. He turned and ran back to the river edge and the cave entrance, leaving Samo to fall behind, forgetting in his excitement and urgency that gnomes could not cover ground so quickly as taller creatures.
The two hurried together this time back to the cave and its tunnels, where they found the others waiting. Brace let Samo share the good news. Instead, he continued his quick work on the plants. He also knew that it was only partially good news. Yes, it was true that wolfsbane could cure lycanthrope, but it was also toxic, one of the most powerful poisons known. The dosage would be crucial to success. Brace had made medicines for halflings before, but not as often as for humans. Nevertheless, he was certain, when he finished cutting down the third bite-sized root chew, that it was the best preparation he had ever performed for such an administration in his life; he sensed that the dosage for each halfling was as close to perfect as possible.
Apothecary check: 20 + 5 = 25
He held out the first filed down tuber for Corkaury. "Here. Take this and chew on it thoroughly, but do not swallow. Chew on it for at least a minute and then spit the rest out, but let your saliva absorb the poi… the medicine and swallow that. You may have heard others speak of eating the sprigs whole, but I promise you that this method is safer." Corkaury reached out, but Brace retracted the root to give one final word of warning. "I shall be honest with you, however. This will not be pleasant, for any of you, and I cannot promise success. It will make your eyes dilate and your vision will blur. You will become dizzy, weak, and your muscles will spasm. You may lose recent memories even or see visions, and the negative effects can last for hours. Some people even die, but I have done my best to give you what I hope is a non-lethal dose, and my brother here may be able to help ease some of your side effects. He is a healer." Finally, he passed it off to the rescued halfling.
Finally, after a full minute by Brace's count, they each spat the mash out on the cave floor and with visible discomfort swallowed their saliva and the juices of the root. After that, though, they seemed no different. "How do we know if..." Ombert began, then suddenly swayed and groaned, as dizziness overtook him and made him nauseous. Meanwhile, Osco blinked rapidly, trying to clear an eyesight that had become blurry and painfully sensitive to torchlight. Hardy Corkaury toughed it out for longer, but became clear he was gritting his teeth against an aching head. And soon all three were twitching and shaking, his muscles spasming and hearts racing out of control.
And that was just the wolfsbane at work. What of the lycanthropy itself?
Suddenly Corkaury yelled out "The rats, the rats in the walls!" He looking around wildly at the rat carvings on the cave walls, which now seemed to writhe and pounce in the flickering firelight. He struggled against his bonds, reopening his bite wound and making fresh welts on his wrists. Then he stared right at Brace, eyes dilated and intense, as he shouted "Commander Rein, the werebeasts are going for the Green Regent! Your orders?"
As they readied themselves, Brace spoke quietly to Corkaury. "We will not know whether the treatment worked until tonight or tomorrow night, unfortunately, but we can hope for the best. Are the three of you strong enough to travel?"
Osco stumbled blindly over to try to aid his cousin, and peered at the humans with unfocused eyes, saying weakly "He has these nightmares sometimes—thinks he's still fighting on the Blood Moon. And you said we'd have visions... Please, we have to get out of this place. It's not good for him."
Thus, the adventurers gathered up their things and helped the three stricken halflings up, carrying their light frames when they could not walk. They led them out of the dark and terrible cave where they had been held captive for so long, away from the filth and oppressive confines and rat carvings and memories of bloody battle, and out into the fresh air and dazzling sun light beside the burbling forest stream. It was quite a relief, perhaps for all of them.
Act IV – Back on the Road
Moonrise
In any case, it seemed a good place to set a camp the night. Because, by now, the sun was setting behind the western trees, casting long shadows and turning the sky orange and pink. And opposite it, in the east, the sky darkened and Selûne rose, bright and full and trailed by her glittering tears. One hoped the Night White Lady did not cry for the three Merrymars this night.
For their part, they had fallen asleep almost as soon as they had stopped moving, being too exhausted and sickened in both body and mind to struggle to stay awake a moment's longer. Sleep seemed a mercy. They lay at peace and no lycanthropic changes were yet apparent, but it was still a little too early for the Midsummer full moon. That would be when it reached its highest point, at midnight. Then they would know.
So the adventurers made camp, and kept watch, and waited to find out if they had cured them after all. Or if they would have three newborn wererats at their throats.
Move silently check to whisper to the others: 11 + 3 = 14
Music for dancing in the pale moonlight.
So, steadily the full moon climbed ever closer to her zenith in the clear sky, until finally she hung directly overhead, her light bathing the entire meadow in silvery light. Midsummer had begun. If the halflings were going to change, it was surely going to be now. The adventurers watched and waited anxiously, alert to every shift and sigh the sleeping halflings made for any sign of a change.
Osco grunted, chomped hungrily, and tried to roll over.
Meanwhile, Corkaury turned restlessly and made fearful mutterings, names like Rein and Green Regent and warriors who had surely been lost. Then he began to struggle against his bonds, to thrash and kick, and to snarl, growl, and hiss, until it seemed as if he would be the one to change. But in time his episode subsided, into weary gasps and anguished sobs, and then silence. It had been no more than bad dreams of old battles after all.
But suddenly young Ombert squealed and contorted, his body twisting and changing in painful-seeming ways. His stout torso lengthened and turned lean, his limbs turned lanky, and his feet extended to a digitigrade form. Coarse hair sprouted all over his body. Meanwhile, his face pushed out into a whiskered snout, his ears grew large and pointed, and his eyes turned large, beady, and dark. A wererat! The new-formed lycanthrope writhed and fought against his bonds, trying to escape.
After a few seconds of silence, he added "But I do want it back…"
Korrlan had been sleeping while others took watch, but at this commotion he too awoke and saw what was happening. But he also saw the strangest scene: the clear moonlight shone on something lying in the long grass, illuminating it with a silvery glitter, showing it being tugged along by a humble field mouse. Small and cylindrical, it was the scroll he'd found in the goblins' cave, which he'd put away in his pocket. Was the mouse stealing it for its nest? Or was it bringing it to him?
OOC: Spells Korrlan prays for:
Orisons: light, read magic, detect magic
Level 1: bane (domain, cannot be spontaneously converted), bless, divine favor
OOC: Casts remove curse from a scroll: 4 (DC = 4)
Carefully, mindful of those claws and the disease-ridden incisors, Korrlan laid his glowing hand down on Ombert's hairy arm and willed the curse to flee. He could feel it within, a magical infection that struggled and fought as much as the wererat itself. He pushed, and it slipped away and slunk back, once, twice, thrice. Ombert hissed and gnashed his teeth, and almost worked a paw free of the ropes. But then, as if with the empty hand of the Broken God himself, Korrlan gripped the curse hard and hurled it out of the halfling.
With a whine and then a whimper, Ombert fell limp into the grass, unconscious again. As they watched, by turns, the signs of the lycanthropy faded: fur back to bare skin, paws to hands and feet, arms and legs reshaped, and a rat face back into a wearily sleeping young halfling. Ombert remained asleep, blissfully ignorant of the whole transformation.
Corkaury still watched, waiting anxiously for some new change, dreading that his might've failed. "Is— is it done? Is he cured?" he asked, his hope growing anew.
Daybreak
Place: Along the Delimbiyr Route between Zelbross and Loudwater, in the Delimbiyr Vale.
Time: Afternoon, Midsummer, 1372 DR.
Weather: Perfectly fine.
They tell me that it is Midsummer. I had indeed been wrong on what day it had been.
Yesterday, our quest began… and ended.
I was a fool for thinking the gnome and the halfling to be adventurers. The gnome obviously has never tracked a quarry, and the halfling has the attention span of a child. I see quite clearly now that they are as in over their heads as I. I do not judge them for it; they seem decent enough people despite their oddities. Demihumans have their quirks as I am sure we humans have. These can be overlooked. For certain, the two wished to free Blaz's sons, and so their help was welcome, even if they were far less skilled than I at first assumed. They were still more skilled for this sort of thing than I.
Much occurred in a single day.
We met the strangest creature that I have perhaps ever seen, one of the legendary fey, a tiny man, smaller than even a halfling child, with the lower body of a large cricket. The creature claimed to be some sort of prince. We requested his help in tracking the goblins, and he acquiesced after forcing us to recite poetry and dance for him. Within his territory, I found and prepared some tonandurr bark to treat our wounds from yesterevening's ambush.
Then we headed a day's walk east and reached the signs of goblins, pits filled with gore and carrion. Korr suspected sacrifices to Maglubiyet. We found a raft, but I fell and injured myself further getting down to it, reopening my wounds. Any thoughts that I had of being an adventurer ended then. I thought it foolish to take the raft, but the others disagreed. As feared, we were fired upon by waiting goblins from the cliffs along the water's banks, and I received another injury in the arm from a bolt. There was even another raft with goblins on it, but the elven woman slew one of the goblins and their vessel crashed and capsized by some miracle.
We next reached shore again, where there was an opening into the goblin's cave. It seemed absurd to me that we should float right up to the entrance as we did, and I can only suspect that there is some higher power at work here. In any case, there were very large rats guarding the entrance, but I distracted them with food, and they scurried away with it. Goblins shot at us from the cave, but we had them outnumbered this time, and we drove them back with our own ranged weapons and pursued them to another chamber, where we killed them. They had a fire beetle caged there, and I also recovered some vials of chemicals and silvered crossbow bolts. I had hoped to also extract the fire beetle's gland, but the foolish halfling let the monstrous insect free.
Thank the gods, the halfling victims were still alive, but they had been bitten by a wererat sorcerer, whose spell incapacitated me. When I came to consciousness again, my companions had defeated him, but our concern was now for the infected halflings. The gnome and I wasted no time and rushed back outside to see if I could find any wolfsbane. The fey prince must have followed us, for we heard his music guiding us to a patch.
Selûne was full last night. The medicine I made saved two of the young men; the third was saved by a divine scroll read by Korr. While we are not adventurers, there is no doubt that Ilmater chose the two of us brothers to save these halflings.
But what I do not understand is why we were chosen to save these others, when our own family was ignored.
Finding an old game trail leading south, one formerly used by the goblinoid bandits in their raids, the travelers returned to the Delimbiyr Road in a few hours, and were soon well on their way to Loudwater. Today was Midsummer, and tonight would be a time of celebration and carousing in the garden city.
But the three Merrymars had been eagerly telling the travelers of their home, Shining Falls—surely a sign of their own desire to return to home and hearth. It lay much further up the road, in sight and spray of the magnificent Shining Falls, which they called "only the most amazing waterfall in all the North!" And they went on: "...And you'll get to see the great Granite Tower, and Gauntlet Deogol's mechanical men..." "...And I just know me Da' will treat you to a grand banquet at The Ale and Rabbit, feasting on all the, uh, ale, and the rabbit..."
Breaking off, Corkaury thought a moment, before realizing something. Trapped in that cave for a tenday or so, out of sight of the sun, he'd lost all track of time. "Hey, did I hear one of you say today's Midsummer? That means tomorrow's Shieldmeet... Ha! They'll be choosing the next Green Regent in Loudwater! We'll get to see the ceremony. It'll be Stedd Rein, I just know it; everyone says so." Corkaury concluded confidently.
*
He walked up beside his brother. "Your god seems to have used you and me, in our own unique ways, to save those three little people, Korr. What do you think of that? Fact is, I never should have been able to find wolfsbane nor you the divine writing with the power to do what you did."
"He could become Green Regent," Corkaury replied to Juniper, "Anyone can put themselves forward to the druids. And anyone can be chosen. But only the Lady of the Forest chooses. The Green Regent is a servant of Mielikki, the guardian of the vale..." He trailed off, though, as he spotted something on the road ahead.
But it was his cousin Osco who pointed it out. "Hey! Isn't that your dad's wagon?" It was: the covered wooden wagon, with Blaz Merrymar's grinning face painted on the side, was parked on the road up ahead. "What's going on up there?" The travelers hurried to catch up, with the three Merrymars hurrying fastest of all if it weren't for halfling legs.
Reunion
And the goblin's taunting had done nothing for his state of mind. Skar had only this one last chance, before he faced Loudwater justice. He couldn't escape his bonds, maybe he couldn't escape death, but he could escape a noose, he could die fighting. "No use dragging your arse, you know. They ain't coming back." he sneered. "You waited. They didn't. Oh yeah, those adventurers probably gave up, went looking for something more worth their while."
Blaz tried to ignore it, his eyes locked on the road ahead, willing it to move faster.
"Or your precious boys turned into big stinking rats and gobbled them all up."
"Shut up." Blaz said sullenly.
"Probably gnawing on their bones right now." Skar sniggered.
"Shut up." he spat back.
"But at least they're not sniveling cowards no more."
"Shut up!"
"And look on the bright side—they'll come back to you. Sorry, for you. And their mother. And their dear sisters. One big happy family again."
Before he knew it, as if he was a helpless spectator to his body and mind, Blaz found himself leaping off his cart, marching to the turnip wagon, climbing, aboard, yelling "Shut up! SHUT UP!" and shoving a turnip into the nasty goblin's big mouth, anything to make it stop. Skar spat out bits of turnip and broken tooth, shouting manically "Go on, do it, half-man!" Blaz somehow had his hoof knife in hand, raising it to the goblin's throat, but Skar twisted, trying to snatch the knife with his bound hands, and the two began to struggle.
Then he rushed past the gnome and into the arms of his family, with Corkaury stepping back for Ombert to be almost crushed in his father's hug, before Blaz turned and took him too. Osco stood back, but it didn't take long for Blaz to hug his nephew as well, and just as lovingly. It was a joyful yet tearful reunion of the Merrymars, with lots of smiles and lots of relief all around, lots of hugs and laughs and claps on the back and stories to be told.
As the reunited family wandered together back to the caravan, Skar and the other goblin tried to scramble backward, kicking turnips in their effort, with eyes wide in terror. "No! No! You keep those rats away from us!" Skar shouted, trying it on to the last. Corkaury hissed at them, making them flinch, and laughed. The terror of the Hark's wererats was ended, at least for a time.
"But then, the other part of me, the non-emotional part, the curious mind, wants to see this through. If these three little people are so important to be saved, I want to at least know why before I judge the fairness of it. …as if I, a mortal, have any right to bring a judgment at all…."
He walked away from his brother without waiting for a reply, towards the elven woman, who was standing apart at the edge of the forest, seemingly deep in thought. "Ilrien, is it? May I have a word?"
She barely acknowledged him with a nod.
"I suspect now that the two little people are not and never have been adventurers. This all was nothing but the favor of Tymora… or perhaps some trick of Erevan. But you seem different. Why was it that you came along on this rescue mission with us?"
She is silent for a long moment, then speaks again, "Forgive me, but I overheard you and your brother discussing why the gods acted here but not elsewhere. I am no cleric, but... consider that the gods do not act for our purposes, but for theirs. And that if one god acts more freely than in small ways, then why not the rest? But not all gods are so benevolent as the one your brother serves."
"Should we go to see if Blaz as anything to say to us?"
Speaking of Elves...
Meanwhile, Corkaury approached Samophlange, looking a bit sheepish as he gestured to his silver sword still in the gnome's belt. "Ah, looks like you've taken a bit of a shine to my sword there. It is a fine one, indeed..." He reached out a hand, about to ask for it back, but hesitated, gazing not at the sword but his empty hand. So many battles fought with it, so much blood spilled by it, and yesterday he'd sworn to add his own and that of his own family. Corkaury shook his hand in refusal and dropped it. "You keep it. It suits you better, and I reckon you'll have more need of it, if you run into werebeasts again... Or if you meet Stedd Rein and need a favor. Show it to him, tell him I vouch for you, tell him—tell him I'm doing alright and don't need it any more."
But by now they were hearing the rattle of horses and their tack, coming down the road at a canter. They looked to see a small squad of soldiers riding majestically atop their warhorses, their helms and mail gleaming in the summer sun, their rippling blue tabards bearing three golden crescent moons—these were the Loudwater Guard.
Not many of the militia would've volunteered for road patrol duty on a day like Midsummer, and leave that all carousing and celebration behind. Fist Captain Isyan Kiy'sisnos had. Without hesitation. Particularly with Shieldmeet tomorrow, a distracted, inebriated, over-fed, under-slept, and finally hungover populace would be all too vulnerable to raids by orcs, werecreatures, the Hark's bandits, the Half-Elven Renegades, the Zhentarim, or worse, so it was a time to be especially vigilant. Fortunately, with two days of festivities, every soldier could be guaranteed one day off, and even Isyan Kiy'sisnos had big plans for tomorrow. The Guard had focused their attention on Loudwater itself the last few days, monitoring all the people coming into the city and setting up, but now it was time to return to the roads, and pray they hadn't missed any raided caravans or creeping armies.
Still, it was expected to be a routine patrol. But then elven ears had pricked at the sounds of a goblin squealing somewhere down the road, and Isyan hurried the patrol toward the scene of the commotion in order to investigate.
Quickly, the mounted patrol closed with the stationary caravan and spread out to flank them, while the two leaders trotted closer to confront them. From atop a white warhorse, the patrol leader, marked by a white bright tabard that didn't show a single speck of dust from the road, took in the scene. A motley band of adventurers. A family of halflings. And pair of bound goblins, one of whom who appeared to have been brutalized with a turnip.
With ice-blue eyes in a pale elven face, the patrol leader coolly regarded the group and asked crisply, not yet demanding but certainly expectant "What is going on here?"
Suddenly aware of the approaching patrol, Samo bravely stepped forward to address the foppish elf. "Greetings. I am Samophlange Skitterwidget, and these are my fellow stalwart adventurers: Juniper, mistress of the Art. Brace, the alchemist. Korrlan, blessed by Ilmater himself. And Ilrien, the deadliest elf-maid this side of the Sea of Swords," he said, gesturing to each of his colleagues in turn. "This caravan was accosted by goblin raiders but we drove them back. We then ventured into the heart of the goblin stronghold to rescue several captives. We even brought goblin prisoners for you to question, if you would like. And we are at your service." With that, he gave a dramatic bow. He knew it might be a hard sell to present this group as heroic adventurers, but he was confident these hicks would be suitably impressed by both the tale and its telling.
OOC: going to try and provoke him to spill the green beans, Gather Information roll (or intimidation, same score) : 14 - 1
The group seemed professional enough—for adventurers. But as the halfling woman interjected and began to babble, Isyan wondered if that had maybe been a misjudgement. But there was a nugget of interest in all of that, making the elf's ears prick up. "The Hark?" Isyan echoed, surprised to hear that title again, after so many years. "That old bandit lord, the Hark's back? ...Damn. That's all we need."
"Yeah, the Hark's back!" Skar cried out from the turnip cart. "And he'll come after us, and this lot, and you, and your High Lord too! You give us a good deal, and keep us safe, and I'll tell you all need to know." the goblin bargained, desperate to save his own skin. But was it from the law of Loudwater, or from the Hark?
Abruptly, the Fist Captain turned and called crisp orders to the patrol. "Guardsmen, escort duty! Outriders head, tail, and flanks. We return to Loudwater." As the patrol spread out and took their position, Isyan turned to the adventurers and the Merrymars, "Loudwater thanks you for your bravery. We'll see you to the Western Tower, and take your statements, then you'll be free to enjoy Midsummer Night."
With smiles on their faces, Blaz Merrymar and his reunited family climbed aboard their wagon while the adventurers also found their old seats. With a creak and clatter, they set their ponies and wheels into motion, and the caravan resumed its long journey toward the garden city of Loudwater.
The End.
Next: Chapter 1: Midsummer Night.