TheRPGSite

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Sequence 1: At the Ol' Boar Inn (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=598156&postcount=3)
Sequence 2: The Village Green at Misty Morn (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=602307&postcount=61)
Sequence 3A: On the Road to Parley (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=604543&postcount=109)
Sequence 3B: The Supply Caravan (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=606865&postcount=137)

OUT OF CHARACTER THREAD (http://www.therpgsite.com/showthread.php?t=24574)[/u]

Oakhurst is a pleasant little village, with about 40 permanent residents and a greater population in the surrounding farmlands (mostly to the east) of 900 or so. It's way out on the edge of things and there are no other major communities within easy traveling distance. (The closest city of any notable size is Southcourt, and it's a hike.)

Folks in town:

Kerowyn Hucrele is part of the bloodsworn Hucrele clan. The bloodsworns run long distance trade through most of the known world and the Hucreles have this swath of territory pretty much under their thumb. Kerowyn's store is in the village square and deals in foreign exotics and commissioned trading.

Dern Nacre is the local healer and a follower of the Old Ways. She tends the dragon circles around town and her face bears the green draconic tattoos of the Faith. She speaks the dragon tongue (Draconic) and quite a few folks back up in the hills speak the same.

The town's luck to have a dwarf, Rurik Lutgehr, as a blacksmith. Gives it the air of civilization, if you know what I mean. He seems to appreciate the quiet tasks of the local farmers, but he's had a few nicer weapons hanging on his walls for as long as anyone can remember.

The whole thing is seen over by Mayor Vurnor.

The local geography:

Oakhurst itself is surrounded by a large dragon circle of standing stones. They're said to protect the town, although what they protect against no one can rightly say.

An avenue of stones cuts away from the circle due west, ending just shy of the nearest edge of the Ashen Plain. This vast, gray expanse of dead earth is a bleak and barren no man's land.

The Old Road runs off to the southwest and smack dab into a ravine. Dern Nacre warns the locals away from that crevasse, although they usually don't need encouraging because everyone knows there's a tribe of runty goblins that live down in those deeps. Beyond that ravine is the further expanse of the Ashen Plain.

Local legends says that the Ashen Plain was burned to gray dust by the red dragon Ashardalon. The demon-winged Ashardalon features in a host of local legends, though, and they can't all be true.

THE GOBLIN APPLES

Each midsummer, a small group of goblins arrives in Oakhurst. Everyone assumes they must belong to the tribe that lives in the ravine off to the west, but they're not seeking trouble: They're seeking trade. Each year they bring with them a perfect, ruby-red apple that grants vigor, health, and life. It cures the ill and rejuvenates the injured. Over time, the people of Oakhurt have come to prize these fruits and are willing to enter fierce bidding wars to win the rights to it. In recent years, Mayor Vurnor and Kerowyn Hucrele have quashed the more violent squabbles by offering a very high price and then apportioning the fruit according to need.

Attempts have been made to cultivate more of the fruit by planting the seeds, but the goblins are apparently jealous of their monopoly: Although the seeds germinate in their proper season and produce a twiggy mass of twisted sapling stems, the goblins always manage to steal into town and steal the saplings.

THE THREE MOONS

There are three moons, but they are never in the sky at the same time. Rather they follow each other in sequence, with each appearing as a new moon, waxing to full, and then waning to a lunar senescence before passing from the sky and being replaced by the next. The moons are:

Tiamat (the Chaos Moon)
Abzu (the Ordained Moon)
Hubur (the Mother Moon)

Each is roughly the same size of our world's moon (although Hubur is slightly larger): Tiamat is a dull and ruddy red; Abzu is a silvery-white; and Hubur glows blue (apparently being covered in water). The dark side of Abzu is pinpricked with lights, which are said to be cities. (Although who, exactly, lives in them is disputed.)

It's said that murders and violence spike under the "chaos light" of Tiamat, but women are more fertile under the light of Hubur.

There's a complicated calendrical system which tracks the occasions when multiple moons will appear in the sky at the same time (generally at the end and beginning of their cycles through the sky).

The current moon is Hubur, which is waxing gibbous.


AMINDA SCROPPINGS (Character Sheet (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=602931&postcount=226))
Aminda Scroppings was the oldest servant of the Wyverntongue household: Midwife, nanny, herbalist, and whatever else might be needed. She has been old for all the years that Lady Jastian has known her, which has been all her life. She would do anything to protect the Lady and would never accept being far from her. She can be quite insistent in this respect.

In fact, when Lady Jastian left her ancestral home it was her intention to go alone. But somehow Aminda knew what she was planning and refused to be left behind.

It is perhaps well that she did: During Lady Jastian’s many travels and adventures, Aminda has become something akin to the expedition’s quartermaster. She arranges supplies, organizes the hiring of local muscle, and the like.

CERTH THE BAKER (Character Sheet (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=597974&postcount=91))
Certh is the village baker, a stout fellow who makes a brisk trade in delicious baked goods. Technically, he works for a fellow named Cudberct at the Ol’ Boar’s Inn, but that’s only until he can afford to rebuild his bakery which burned down a few years past in an unexplained fire in the middle of the night. Working for Cudberct gives him access to a decent oven, though, and so he’s able to serve both Cudberct’s customers and the baking needs of the village at large. (And Cudberct only keeps a fairly reasonable percentage of the latter.)

Certh also trains with the village militia… which is also run by Cudberct. He’s never seen any actual combat though. At least, nothing more involved than scaring off the odd wandering goblin. (During the lycanthropy scare three summers back he was charged with watching the town square, but all the excitement happened out on the east farms.)


CUDBERCT (Character Sheet (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=598070&postcount=104))

Cudberct was born in a small village within the Garland Emerald, a vast swath of rich, independent duchies loosely aligned far to the east. He escaped his life as a farm boy by joining the Amaranthine Legion and was fortunate enough to garner the favor and respect of the local septenant. He was recommended and accepted into the entourage of the duchy’s general, allowing him to leave the vale which had been his home all of his life. He traveled, he served, and in a corner of the Garland Emerald he had never even heard of only a year earlier he met and fell in love with a girl named Ermengilda.

But then the Doppelganger Wars reignited. This time, the doppels had suborned the entirety of the Karth Valley before they were detected. The fighting was fierce and dirty and bloody, even before it reached the cities. Paranoia was rampant.

By the time the war ended, Cudberct’s general had been slain. Cudberct resigned his commission, took his pension, and married Ermengilda. They left the Garland Emerald and traveled to the edge of the civilized world. When they came to Oakhurst, they knew they had gone far enough: Cudberct spent much of his remaining coin on the Ol’ Boar’s Inn and he and Ermengilda settled down to the joys of raising a family.

… for the most part. A few years back, some of Cudberct’s buddies from the Doppelganger Wars passed through town. They wrangled him up for some extra adventuring and they journeyed into the Ashen Plains and up into the Bone Hills and even poked around in the Witch’s Hallow down to the south. Some of these ventures were successful; others were busts. Eventually, Cudberct’s buddies grew tired of Oakhurst and moved on to “bigger and better things”. Cudberct stayed: He’d found the best things and he felt no wanderlust. He settled down to run the inn, serve as frequent deputy to Sgt. Llewellyn, and keep an open hearth and an open door the local farmers to feast their fill on food, drink, and old tales. During this time, Cudberct also became the head of the town’s militia, such as it is.

A few years later, though, some youngsters came to town: They’d heard about Cudberct’s exploits and wanted to “learn from the best”. He taught ‘em what he could, but they went out into the Ashen Plains against his best advice. And most of them died.

The sadness of that is a burden indeed. Cudberct does his best to turn the foolhardy away from such follies now. He was mightily distressed a few weeks back when a prideful knight named Sir Braford rode into town with his companion Karakas. They talked big. Got the youth of the town stirred up. And when they heard about the goblin apples they got excited, too. Braford and Karakas talked the Hucrele kids – Talgen and Sharwyn – into signing up to head out to the old ravine where the goblins were thought to live.

They haven’t been heard from since. And Cudberct has a sinking feeling about that.

EMPLOYEES AT THE INN
Stablehand: Hasor Turrell
Baker: Certh
Chambermaids: Merewyn, Ysmeina
Errand Boy: Eadric
Night Manager: Johannes

FAMILY
Wife: Ermengilda (pregnant in the early third trimester)
Daughter: Cyrinthia (4 years old)
Son: Alec (6 years old)

GILEUS (Character Sheet (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=466344))

Gileus was a student at the University of Fawnhallow when he first learned of the legendary Living Library of Garth. He spent years dedicated to studying its lore, eventually concluding – on the basis of the strange marginalia found in the Ptaoth Manuscripts – that the Library must still exist. Leaving his studies in Fawnhallow, Garth traveled into the icy wastes of the north which are said to have once been home to a civilization of golden summer.

And there, as he had predicted, he found the Library: A solitary edifice of granite thrust up through a shelf of ice and heated by vast flows of lava deep beneath the glacier. He was somewhat surprised, however, to discover that the Library was still active, tended by librarians maintaining traditions millennia old. Drawn to the vast stores of knowledge they curated, Gileus apprenticed himself to their ranks.

The Librarians of Garth used a magical technique to scribe vast volumes of lore onto their bodies as living tattoos that swirled across the skin. Gileus was looking forward to the day of his inking, but everything changed about a year ago when a beautiful woman named Jastian arrived at the Library. She sought knowledge of ancient draconic rites and lore, particularly as they pertained to prophecy. Following his oaths to the Library, Gileus sought to help her in any way that he could. But over time it became about more than just his oaths: He felt drawn to some deep and immense pain he sensed within the Lady; a pain which seemed inexorably linked to the bodies of lore they were exploring together.

Lady Jastian eventually confessed to Gileus her true purposes: The Curse which haunted her uncertain future and her desperate need to see it broken. He eventually broke his oaths to the Library and swore new oaths of fealty to Lady Jastian, pledging to join her in her journeys until her Curse had been lifted.

Unfortunately, there was nothing within the annals of the Library that Gileus could find that would help Lady Jastian. However, he was able to compile a list of sites which were said to have once been (or continue to be) locus points of draconic activity. Since leaving the Library, they have journeyed to several of these locations, often being met with disappointment. Now they have come to Oakhurst in the hope that the references to a “citadel” will bear some fruit.

HADDON BANIA (Character Sheet (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=599023&postcount=160))

Haddon has a very particular set of skills and he’s made a life for himself exercising those skills in the only sorts of jobs that seem appropriate for them: Performing small mercenary jobs. Protecting caravans passing through long stretches of wilderness. Hunting down rogue wildlife of the monstrous sort.

He’s never really gotten along well with the idea of adhering closely to a chain of command. Or even a link of command. If he did, he might have gotten himself tied up in one of the skirmishing wars between the Feald Duchies. Instead, he’s found himself pushed further and further to edges of civilization.

On the other hand, if he was the sort of fellow to take orders without question he wouldn’t have gone off-contract three years ago. And if he hadn’t gone off contract, that young elven maid would probably be dead. And if that hadn’t happened, then his long-time wolf-companion Mala might not have met that marvelous hound that belonged to the maid’s father. Mala and that elvish hound became enamored with each other and together they bore a litter of pups, seemingly wolves but for their great size and strength, and the forest green of their eyes.

One of those pups – the eldest and the boldest – was Ashur. And Ashur’s the best companion anyone could ask for. So it’s probably all worked out for the best.

Haddon stayed among the elves for some months – a time of strange ceremonies of starlight-brought-to-forest-glade and dances that would last from midnight to noon – but eventually he felt compelled to move on. In a parting ceremony of passing sweetness, the girl’s father gifted him with an enchanted silver amulet that gilds the wearer’s tongue to even the most willful of beasts.

More recently, Haddon’s been working guard contracts for Hucrele caravans. That’s been good-paying work. When he saw the last caravan into a squabble of a town named Southcourt, though, the Hucrele representatives gave him new orders: Someone named Kerowyn Hucrele in the town of Oakhurst had sent a plea for help. Her kids had gone missing and she needed someone to help.

HASOR TURRELL (Character Sheet (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=598161&postcount=115))

As a young boy, Hasor became fascinated by the tales told by Winthrop Porter. Despite the best efforts of his parents, he would frequently sneak off to Porter’s hut to hear his tales of far-off lands and enigmatic knowledge. Hasor became particularly enamored of tales concerning the god of travel, Fharlanghn, and the ancient Pearlescent Knights who honored their god by carving out the vast pilgrim tracts across the civilized and uncivilized world.

Hasor eventually came to think of himself as a follower of Fharlanghn and dreams of traveling the world some day, witnessing for himself the great natural beauties and helping the common man. A few years back he became the Cudberct’s stablehand at the Ol’ Boar’s Inn in order to earn some extra coin to fund his future travels.

Two years ago, one of Cudberct's horses became extremely sick. Dern Nacre did what she could, but didn't expect the beast to last the winter. The newly hired Hasor refused to let one of his charges die, and spent nearly every waking hour nursing the horse back to health. Cudberct was touched by his efforts, and told Hasor that the horse's life was in his hands: If it lived, it would be Hasor's forever. When the southern wind heralded a new spring, he named the newly healed horse Notos, and yearns to ride him into the great unknown.

His success in the face of Dern Nacre's grim expectations, combined with his budding religious ideas and general disinterest in the Old Ways, has caused a rift between the older healer and Hasor. He now spends a great deal more time talking with Winthrop than he does learning from Dern.

Hasor also longs to bring his childhood love with him on his future travels, but Keria has spurned all his advances on account of his extreme cowardice and puny physique. Hoping to win her heart through bold adventure, Hasor has joined with the Lady Jastian, a newcomer to town, and waits anxiously to prove his mettle.


LADY JASTIAN (Character Sheet (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=465890))

When she who is last of the Wyverntongue
Shall stand alone, of heirs your only heir,
Her fellows all of breath-spent empty lung,
Their forlorn hope from forth her fingers tear
And leave her barren, clenched with endless doubt.
For she shall know her doom, to wed a mate
As foul within as he seems fair without;
A living nightmare laced with sweetest bait,
‘Gainst which all mortal sense should give its care.
Yet from their cursed, conjoined loins shall spring
A thing of shadow’s depth and queen’s despair,
A blight in lands of blood to rule as king.
This is the curse from which your fame is born;
Let all your deeds forevermore be torn.

- The Curse of the Wyverntongues

In the distant lands which were their home, the Wyverntongues were a prestigious and honored family: Its mighty founders were famed in legend and heroic chansons. Its heirs rules prosperous and happy lands. But through the long centuries of their glory, the Curse of the Wyverntongues – a tradition passed down from the earliest days of the house – remained a persistent and never-forgotten blight.

When her elder brother lay upon his deathbed, Lady Jastian foresaw the dark clutches of the curse settling upon her soul: As Lady of the Wyverntongues, she was now the line’s sole heir.

Rather than waiting for her fate to find her, the veteran warrior gathered whatitems she could and rode into the night, hoping to find clues about the curse’s origins or how it could manifest. She kept her purpose secret to all but her most trusted associates, instead claiming to quest after long-forgotten treasures of her ancestors, items that might reverse the family’s declining fortunes.

Only a scant handful of gold coins remain from the wealth Lady Jastian carried with her upon her departure. She must secure more soon, lest she be forced to humiliate herself by accepting employment as a mere sellsword or caravan guard.

SGT. LLEWELLYN (Character Sheet (http://www.therpgsite.com/showpost.php?p=598981&postcount=159))

There have been Llewellyns in Oakhurst for as long as anyone can remember or the stacks of tombstones in the church basement can attest. And more than a few of them have been charged with the protection of the little village and the surrounding farms. But now there’s only one: Sgt. Llewellyn.

(It’s said that there are a few Llewellyns working as weavers in Southcourt, of course. But Sgt. Llewellyn has never paid much heed to the city and it’s paid little heed to him.)

Over the years, Sgt. Llwellyn has faced a fair share of troubles: The winterfire skeletons that rose from the old cemetery (which is why the tombstones are stacked in the church basement now and the town doesn’t keep a cemetery any more). The dark Entmoot that chanted its way through Witch’s Hallow. A nip of lycanthropy out on the east farms. But he’s always found a way to rally the people around to make a stand against that sort of thing when a standings been necessary.

He’s a comfortable sight for the folk of Oakhurst: He makes his thrice daily walk-abouts ‘round the village and rides out through the farms at least twice a week. He carries carrots and lets the kids feed his warhorse Justice. Everyone knows his mithril shield and shirt of chain (both signs of the sergeant’s office; the title “sergeant” in these parts being used by any chief lawman for reasons of history that no one gives much thought to). The sword he keeps strapped to his side is his, though: A family heirloom that everyone knows will never lose its edge and remains spotless after several generations. Just like the spotless Sgt. Llewellyn never loses his edge.

Cudberct, the local innkeep, works as a frequent deputy for Sgt. Llewellyn. Llewellyn’s learned to trust his expertise, although there’s a number of other young lads who work deputy duty as the need arises.

Llewellyn’s also got a good working relationship with Mayor Vurnor. They both take great pride in making Oakhurst the best little village it can be. Llewellyn is also friends with Dern Nacre, the local healer who follows the Old Ways. He respects the beliefs of the hillfolk, but doesn’t put much credence in it himself.

WINTHROP PORTER (Character Sheet (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=466140))

Winthrop owns a small hut in the hills several miles outside of town, where he stores a collection of books he believes to be the finest this side of Ashardalon’s Teeth.

He's a familiar face around the town, as he comes in from now and then to restock, replace a lost axe, and tell tall tales in Cudberct's tavern. The rest of the time he spends in his home in the hills, hunting, drinking tea, and reading. It's well known that he knows the area around Oakhurst as well as any, and he's willing to lead exploratory expeditions, so long as his charges don't mind the danger, and the occasional lively literary discourse. Like many of the hill-folk, he speaks draconic, and has an off-handed interest in dragon lore. Whenever in town, he takes the opportunity to look up Dern, and see if he can lend her a hand. He also frequent's Rurik's weapon shoppe exclusively, and when there makes sure to brush up on his dwarven.

He is fascinated with old lore, books, and exploration. His prized possession, besides his warhorse Barnaby and his boomerang axe, is his Folding Boat, gifted to him by his father, cabin boy on the first ship to cross the Krakenwake. He carries it with him wherever he goes, in hopes that he may have the opportunity to follow in his father's footsteps, and himself be the first to cross an unknown body of water. Unfortunately, he has chosen to live in the middle of a barren plain, seemingly leagues from any sizeable pond. He has also never sailed before, and the grand total of his sailing skills come out of a somewhat fanciful book on pirates he owns. And he's deathly afraid of swimming.

Archiving the IC stuff from the original thread.

Quote from: Sir Wulf;597987Jady Jastian sat in the common room of the Old Boar Inn, a melancholy spirit flickering in her eyes.  Somewhat in her cups, the foreign aristocrat regaled onlookers with tales of distant lands and the warlike poems of ancient heroes.  Between tales, she sipped delicately from a goblet of the inn's cheapest wine, her teeth gritted against the inferior drink's silty dregs.

"Oh, for a few stout companions, such as were seen in the days of yore!  Alas, folk of true mettle are not to be met with in this benighted age.  The mighty champions and learned wizards of the sagas are naught but dreams, legends of a better time."  She paused for another sip of the inn's vinegary vintage.  "A band of such puissance would surely rout the innumerable evils that plague this land!"

Quote from: Josh;598023As Lady Jastian's complaints die out, a man stands up from where he had been sitting at the bar, nursing a mug of the inn's cheapest ale.  He is verging on middle aged, rugged and plain-faced.  He leaves his bulging haversack and belt full of axes by his stool and crosses the inn to the lady's table.

"Not so, milady.  This is a rough and dangerous land, to be sure, but there are heroes aplenty.  Buy me a glass of that delightful wine and I will tell you the tale of the time I lead a band of heroes to battle the dragoncult kobolds of the Ashen Plain."

Quote from: Opaopajr;598071/whisper "Ermengilda, if the noble-looking lady buys that guy approaching her table there a glass of our cheap house wine, accept the order but break out a glass of fine wine for them both." *sigh* "Perhaps they've both seen better days than this."

Quote from: greyknight;598085Okay, Certh is gainfully employed at the Old Boar Inn!

A burly, ruddy-faced fellow in a white apron and puffy baker's hat emerges from the kitchen carrying a small plate, which he sets before Lady Jastian. "Here's your dessert, madam: I hope it meets your expectations." On the plate is a scrumptious cream-filled pastry with a spot of jam and a fresh strawberry. Certh produces a little fork and places it on the table before addressing Winthrop. "Anything for yourself, sir?"

Quote from: Sir Wulf;598104"I thank thee for thy pains, my good baker.  My mouth waters!  Might I then trouble thee for a pot of mulled wine and two fair cups?"  Lady Jastian thoughtfully eyed the muscular serving man:  He seemed as though he had the might to wield an axe or greatsword, if he could be persuaded to venture forth from the village's safe confines.  She wondered whether the baker could be swayed to her cause:  Even if he proved to lack the stomach for battle, at least his companions would eat well.  

Ending her reverie, Jastian turned to examine the newly-arrived woodsman.  He seemed a friendly sort, comfortable among the rough-hewn peasant farmers and laborers crowding the common room.  "So, 'twas your band that slew the head priest of those wicked reptiles!  I heard your tale ere I arrived in this place!  Please, sit and warm yourself with some mulled wine, for I have long sought such a man for a venture I'd propose.  Tell me, know you aught of a cursed ruin some name the Sunless Citadel?"

Quote from: Opaopajr;598111/whisper to chambermaid 1 "Our lady is getting more talkative with her cups. Have you seen that she has eaten beforehand, I hope? Go make sure her chamber is ready -- and supply an extra night jar within the night stand for her comfort."

/whisper to Ermengilda "Suggest to the new gents our drink special today: a gallon pitcher of ale gets you a complimentary side order of fried boar chips & potato chips. I want them to eat so as to keep the place clean. I'm going to check with the stablehand before locking it up for tonight."

Quote from: Josh;598143Turning to the portly baker, Winthrop smiles broadly.  "Ah, Certh, good to see you again.  How's the training coming along?  Slain any bandits yet?"  He pauses, surreptitiously jingling the coin pouch at his belt. "I think I'll pass on the desert today, thank you."

Bowing to Lady Jastian, Winthrop takes a seat opposite her.  "I am pleased that you've heard of my exploits, although truth be told, I merely lead the brave adventurers through the plains, they did most of the work.  I am interested in this venture you mention, however.  I have of course heard of the Citadel, to the south, near the ravine.  I've travelled that way before, although never ventured too close.  There's an eerie feeling about the whole area, not to mention the goblins."

"Say, if you're looking for men for your venture, you could do worse than our good barkeep over there.  He's a sturdy warrior and a fighting man of some skill, no doubt from all the bickering with his wife."

"Don't tell her I said that.  She scares me."

/bringing the evening meal to my stablehand "Here you go. I'll put it by your tool bench. Certh has outdone himself again, as usual. Heh, if I'm not careful his cooking will spoil me into early retirement from the militia."

"Are the horses good? I'll give you a spot of company while you eat before leaving you to finishing up the evening's work. Be sure to get out of the cold soon and get some rest, the guests might hanker for an early start next morning."

"Our guests are talking about that damned ravine again. And just when their company was growing on me. What new rumors of that place have you been hearing from the guests?"

Certh puffs and puts his hands on his hips. "Hmph! We've scared off a few, but usually by the time word gets back to us from the farms they're half gone already. Sergeant Llewellyn is trying to organise some sort of patrol system, though when we all have our day jobs... it is difficult. What I say is, we must strike them down at their lairs, teach them a lesson. We may not know where the human bandits lurk, but it's well-known the goblins are holed up..."

/Ermengilda, overhearing the lady's request to Certh, takes her cue to prepare two glasses of fine wine.

When Certh returns, she'll wave him back to the kitchen (or wherever) to instead proffer the wine herself.

"Señora, my husband thought you might like a change of pace." /lean in and whisper in her ear "Don't worry, we'll count this as a single house wine." /straighten and speak normally "I'll return to see if you still want a warm mulled wine before bed." /while returning to the bar "It does good for one's rest, no?"

Taking a sip of the fine wine, Winthrop grimaces slightly. Leaning across the table, he whispers to Jastian "Cudberct's wine is usually delicious.  This must just be a poor year." While noble Winthrop is a connoisseur of many things, wine is not one of them.

To Certh he replies, with a slight chuckle "Right you are, good man. Well, you can tell your Sargent that any time he's ready to deal with that menace, I'm happy to lead him there." He turns back to Jastian "now, about that venture?"

Cudberct:
/ambling in thought from Inn's stable

Hmm, the stablehand speaks of some newcomers seemingly flush with victory. Perhaps they can do something to help end at least the goblin threat. But I'm going to need veterans who understand the risks, not a band who may have gotten lucky and let it go to their head.

Hopefully the Sergeant will come around for a nip & bit of storytelling listening after his evening constitutional. He'll likely give a good second opinion about our guests' ability.

I'm going to talk to Dern Nacre next door and see if she is willing to join our evening meal. A complimentary famed dessert from Certh should sway her. At the very least she can talk about the horrors seen repairing the casualties of would-be-victors against the ravine. Better the cost of a cake to scare away the foolhardy than bury more humans before their time.

/heads more purposefully towards neighboring healer house

Lady Jastian pondered Winthrop's words. "I desire to plumb the depths of this 'Sunless Citadel', for I have heard some rumor that some dark relic of mine own House's history lies hidden within its grim depths.  Despite this, mayhap t'would be a wiser course to first strike at the goblin warren nearby.  While such creatures hold little threat for a determined band, if we suffered ill-fortune in the depths of the citadel, the pestiferous creatures might feel bold enow to harry us on our road home.  

"Besides, I should prefer to ride my good destrier Paladin on the journey to the citadel.  I would be most wroth to discover upon my emergence that he had been rendered into chops and stew for a hungry band of goblinid miscreants!  Best to clear the area of such nuisances before we venture into the citadel's darkened halls."

Winthrop nods.  "Well that settles it.  The goblins need to be dealt with, sooner or later, and it's been too long since my travels lead me that way.  I'd be happy to lead you and whatever companions you choose to the ravine, and lend an axe if it is needed."

"Perhaps we should see if we can seek out the Sergeant.  I've never met him myself, but another strong arm would not go amiss.  That is, if you're done your meal..."

He looks wistfully at the half-eaten desert on the table.

Lady Jastian didn't miss the hungry woodsman's glance toward her half-eaten repast.  "Please share this delicacy with me.  T'would be most wrong for the baker's labors to go wasted!  Mayhap afterward, you could introduce me to that sergeant fellow.  A few more stalwart souls would make success certain."

Certh has been eagerly listening to the conversation, although not wanting to seem rude in front of the noble lady.  "Begging your pardon my lady, I expect Sergeant Llewellyn will in fact be by presently; he usually is at around this time." he blurts out.  "Furthermore I should like to put myself at your service if I may thereby help cleanse the evil out of that ravine."

"Then I suppose we needn't go anywhere" says Winthrop, absentmindedly picking up the pastry and shoving it into his mouth.  The pastry is delicious.  Although Winthrop knows the basics of roasting a deer over a campfire, the art of baking has always eluded him, and it had been several hours since his rabbit lunch on the way in to town.  Through a mouthful of crumbs, he says "You seem a lover of tales.  Shall I tell you the story of the day good innkeep Cudberct wrestled a bugbear?"

Cudberct
/returning to the inn, speaking to Ermengilda
"I've invited our neighbor Dern Nacre to join us for dinner. Set aside another place setting, just in case. Get Certh to prepare another cake for dessert, too. Also, we (our family and workers) will eat in the front of the house tonight, excepting the children who already ate early, of course."

/leans in and speaks in confidence
"And afterwards have one of the Chambermaids entertain them this evening in the back of the house and tuck them in early, please. I think our new guests have aspirations against the ravine. I called on the healer to visit and speak honestly -- if we're in luck Sgt Llewellyn will be here as is his wont -- and perhaps both can scare some sense into them. I don't want to bury anymore ambitious, but inexperienced fighters. And I really don't want the kids hearing those stories."

/straightens and speaks normally
"I'll cover the front now and start moving the tables into place for our dinner."

Cudberct
/to Winthrop with a wry smile, as I rearrange tables into a large family style one
"Isn't it a bit early in the evening to be pulling people's ears to listen to long tales? Next will be the story of our 10-point buck that got away."

The old, white-haired, wrinkled woman sitting at the Lady's table sips at her herbal infusion and politely listens, but doesn't take part in the conversation herself. Now she leans over to the Lady and whispers: "Well, there seem to brave and capable people here, Lady. Much unlike the places we've been to before. And I feel something else. It might be that... old spirits linger here."

She then addresses the locals, looking at them in the kind, amiable way that only women of her age possess: "So, maybe you know a story or two about this Citadel. Has anyone been down there recently?"

Cudberct
/walks to Lady & Winthrop table, picks up empty dishes, smiles to Lady
"I see that you enjoyed our cook's talents. I'm glad."
/turns to Winthrop still smiling, looks him in the eye, and then points to his own face while looking purposefully at cream flecks upon Winthrop
"You got a bit of wine about you."
/pushes napkin within Winthrop's reach and returns to the kitchen

Whilst cleaning his face with the napkin, Winthrop says cheerfully to Cudberct "While I will admit using a morningstar for big game hunting has its merits, I still think your spear would have been a better choice for your first time out.  You're lucky that buck got away, and didn't come back for revenge."

To the old lady, he says "Old spirits, you say?  I don't know about that, but I tell you, the citadel is an eerie place.  But have no fear, I'm certain I can bring your good mistress back in one piece."

Cudberct:
/places more firewood in the hearth
"Well, before anyone plans more details to tempt fate in that godforsaken ravine, perhaps we can hear a happy story before dinner. It would be good for the appetite. Perhaps our Lady can offer a story as entertaining as my efforts to wrestle bugbears or club stags."
/stands up and faces table where Lady Jastian and Mr. Winthrop and nods slightly
"But I'll leave the honor of my stories in the hands of Mr. Winthrop, a far better storyteller.
/turns to help with the place settings and meal courses.

In the north of Oakhurst, a gnome and his mount arrive in the town on the New Road. The rider is short and slight even by the standards of his people, making a sharp contrast against the large, muscular wolf beneath him. On the outskirts, Haddon dismounts and gazes at the town, speaking idly to his companion.

"Do you remember...? No, of course, I was here with Mala, before we had met your father. The townsfolk were welcoming, as I recall." He frowns, briefly. "I hope the local goblins have kept away. We and the guard dispersed their camp, but goblins never seem to learn."

Ashur, not understanding the words, looks anxious at his master's dark tone. He nudges Haddon's hand and grumbles in the Wildspeech, <>

Haddon starts, then replies, <>

<>

<>

Ashur growls in annoyance. <>

Haddon pats the wolf's head apologetically. <> He looks around the town, searching his memory. He begins walking towards the inn, gesturing ahead. <>

Ashur's annoyance vanishes at that promise, and he calmly keeps pace. <>

Winthrop hops to his feet and helps Cudberct with the table setup.  As he does so, he chats idly. He hasn't been into town in over a month, and so missed Sir Bradford's trip through the town.

"You know, if we're mounting an expedition to the goblin camps, it wouldn't hurt to see if there are others in the town that would like to get in a spot of adventure.  When I was here last, those Hucrele kids ate up every story I could tell.  They're old enough, I bet they'd be interested in joining us.  And your stablehand is a good lad, and raring for adventure."

Cudberct looks compassionately at Winthrop and says in confidence, "I know you mean well, but now retired from war I prefer defense or retaliation. This feels a bit more like instigation against the goblins. This worries me especially since my family lives so close. Our action like that wouldn't be a bit of youth going wild."

Grabbing a cheesy onion casserole from the credenza and returning, "I know that we have a difficult relationship with them, buying summer goblin apples one day and slaughtering raids the next, but I can't shake that this feels wrong. It's a gut thing from my soldier days, it asks: are these the same group? Those apples have saved more than one of us around these parts.

"I do know one thing, though, and that's the ravine is dangerous and should only be approached by seasoned fighters. I'm going to defer to the healer Dern Nacre and Sergeant Llewellyn's judgment on this goblin raid idea. I just don't want to bury any more young kids is all. I'm not even in my middle-aged thirties yet."

Retcon: Haddon and Ashur have not gone to the inn, and have instead gone straight to see Kerowyn Hucrele, in case the missing children problem has taken an urgent twist.

Upon ascertaining where to go, [opportunity to be the one giving him directions, if anyone wants to start work on getting the party together] Haddon and Ashur head to the correct house. After a pause to clean up from the road with prestidigitation and feel awkward about making a call dressed for battle, Haddon knocks on the door of the Hucrele residence.

OOC: I'm uncertain how best to handle this interaction, but I'm guessing the correct procedure is the pass to ball to JA and await a response from the inhabitants.

Hasor finished brushing down the guests' horses and cleaned up the stables then took a few minutes to eat his evening meal. Before heading inside, he leaves a bag of oats for Lady Jastian's mount: she was receptive to his request when he arrived, but he wasn't going to risk his one big chance at adventure by way of unhappy horses.

Upon entering the common room of the inn, he sees Winthrop talking to the newcomers. Seizing an opportunity to learn more about the Lady and her companions, he waves amiably to Winthrop and lends a hand distributing the dinnerware around the table.

"Nice of you to finally come by town Winthrop. I think Notos is getting tired of taking me all they way out to your humble abode so often!"

@Haddon: You knock on the rear (or residence) door of the Hucrele trading post just off the town square. After a few moments, it's answered by a woman with long black hair that's streaking with silver. Her face is handsome and proud. She wears a dress of moss green belted with modest silver. You flash your Hucrele service badge.

The woman frowns. "You're from Southcourt? I expected someone... taller. Come in. I've just put on some tea. Would you care for a cup?"

Back at the inn, Winthrop is paused in thought, watching the innkeeper with a troubled frown on his face.  Cudberct's warning plays through his head.  It's not instigation to want to eliminate so obvious a threat as the goblins, is it?  They prey on travellers and raid the town on a regular basis.  Sure, there's some trade between the two peoples, but even that is coloured by hostility and greed.  If the goblins truly wanted to help the humans, they would share all their apples, not just one per year, wouldn't they?

His thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of the stable boy, and the melancholy mood that had threatened to overtake him disappears instantly.  "Hasor, my boy, good to see you!  You know I come into town as often as I possibly can.  There's a wide world out there calling to me, I can't be tied down by four walls.  How's Keria?"

@DM: Haddon is neither surprised nor phased by the woman's disappointment at finding a gnome where a soldier should stand. "Thank you, I would like that." He follows probably-Kerowyn inside, Ashur following closely. Haddon rests his hand soothingly on Ashur's side, a leftover habit from the wolf's excitable youth.

"I apologize for arriving in such attire; I wished to report in as soon as possible. I am afraid the news which reached me was somewhat lacking in detail. Is there any notion the direction in which the missing persons have gone? My companion Ashur is a skilled tracker, but given the time that has passed a lead would be most helpful."

When they come to the kitchen/sitting room/tea offertory area, a quiet word in the Wildspeech has Ashur lay unthreateningly on the floor.

"Keria's doing well, although I think she's been trying to avoid me a bit lately..."

Trailing off into a sigh, Hasor glances suddenly around the common room for Keria or any of her friends. Satisfied that he can speak freely, he continues in a slightly lower voice.

"Of course, I think my fortunes may be turning around soon. If Lady Jastian let's me accompany her to the Sunless Citadel... I'll be at least as much a man as that ox Talgen. Just think, he'll be back any day with tales of the ravine, but I'll have actually set foot in the dark Citadel itself!"

The fact that the Hucrele boys haven't been heard from in several weeks, or that an ill fate may have befallen them, doesn't seem to have dampened Hasor's naive optimism.

Leaving some work unfinished, Cudberct returns to his wife Ermengilda, "I'll go find the maids Merewyn and Ysmeina. I'm sure one's minding the kids playing upstairs. Eadric (errand boy) should be back soon from the store with supplies, so then you can inform him and Certh dinner is about ready." Leans in for a peck upon her cheek.

"Naturally Johannes (night manager) is expected to arrive later to cover the night shift, but he might stop in earlier. Losing his wife of so many years must still be hard on him. I'm glad you coaxed him off his farm a bit. With age bringing him less sleep, it's better for him here with people around." Turns to go upstairs.

Cudberct thinks, (How like the full family I was so eager to leave behind when younger. My kids have a kind of grandparents and older siblings with this inn. I hope I can make that comfort of childhood last.)

On the second flight, rounding the corner, (But the maids are of marrying age and I need to find them solid prospects, as was their parents terms to let them off the farms to work here.) *sigh* (Why did both of those Hucrele sons have to be so impetuous? Maybe Hasor or Eadric could fill that role. But they need to know how to survive long enough in a real fight, and to know what's worth fighting for to protect...) Opens the children's room to see Ysmeina with both.

With a sigh, Gileus turns away from the manuscript he's been studying.  If there's any clues to what they might find in that ravine to the south, he won't be finding them tonight.  He puts the scroll away, and heads for the inn's common room.  Seeing Lady Jastian, he takes a seat near her.  "Good evening, milady, and to you miss Scroppings.  Might you introduce me to your new friends?"

Clapping Hasor on the back, Winthrop smiles.  "That's the spirit!  Don't you worry about Keria, she'll come around.  They always do. Now what's this about Talgen?"

"Be good kids, and leave the door open so we can hear you." Cudberct ushers Ysmeina out into the hall. Merewyn comes from the 2nd story supply room into the hall. "Ah good, just in time for dinner. If the guests are well supplied for the night then cleaning up after dinner is the last thing to do before our evening's rest," Cudberct opens his arms while speaking to gather the maids and lead them downstairs in front of him.

Merewyn pauses and asks with temerity, "Can I spend time with the children afterwards? I know you want to keep them from the coming serious discussion in the common room. But Ysmeina might need the time to work on her dowry, and she'll need good light to work by..." Ysmeina stiffens, staring straight ahead down the hall.

Cudberct gently herds the group into walking again, "Of course, Merewyn. You may sort this favor to me as you both please. It's understood you both won't be here forever and need to prepare for your future. However you've become like family and will always have a place at our table, regardless where marriage takes you." "Besides, I know you like to tell stories to the kids, as well," winking knowingly towards Merewyn.

Leaning in with a quieter voice directed to Ysmeina, "And mayhap you'll hear talk of dragging back those Hucrele boys from their extended camping trip." "It's easy to lose track of time when away, as I know too well," dropping a casual lie to reassure. Ysmeina relaxes, smiles wanly, and goes on ahead down the stairs. Cudberct reflects that he's seen that smile all too often on the women left behind, (stupid boys always thinking they're invincible... as I know too well).

Quote from: Warclam;599747@DM: Haddon is neither surprised nor phased by the woman's disappointment at finding a gnome where a soldier should stand. "Thank you, I would like that." He follows probably-Kerowyn inside, Ashur following closely. Haddon rests his hand soothingly on Ashur's side, a leftover habit from the wolf's excitable youth.

"I apologize for arriving in such attire; I wished to report in as soon as possible. I am afraid the news which reached me was somewhat lacking in detail. Is there any notion the direction in which the missing persons have gone? My companion Ashur is a skilled tracker, but given the time that has passed a lead would be most helpful."

When they come to the kitchen/sitting room/tea offertory area, a quiet word in the Wildspeech has Ashur lay unthreateningly on the floor.

@Haddon: Kerowyn gestures you to a seat and tries to smile as she pulls the kettle off the iron-wrought stove, but you can see the tension pulled taut around her eyes. "No, I'm glad you've come."

Her hand shakes a bit as she pours. "Unfortunately, I am almost certain of where they've gone: The goblin ravine. A few weeks back a knight rode into town -- brash and proud. Sir Braford. He had another fellow with him. Karakas I think his name was. They talked big and told tall tales and Braford waved around his glowing sword.

"Unfortunately, they arrived just after the goblins stole the latest seed trees. So they heard all about the 'goblin apples' -- magical things that the local goblin tribe brings into town each midsummer. They figured there'd be a profit in it if they could find the tree the goblins are claiming those apples from.

"My son, Talgren and my daughter, Sharwyn, signed up. They've trained in the bloodsworn academies, so they were capable enough of sword and spell. But they had no business... they..." Kerowyn breaks off for a moment. "It's those tales at the inn. They enflame the mind."

She takes a deep drink from her tea. "They signed up for Braford's folly. And they rode off two weeks past to the ravine where everyone says those cursed goblins live."

@Kerowyn: As long as the cup and the chair aren't iron as well…

 "I see." Haddon can see that this rescue may lie outside his skillset. Finding lost humans is a far cry from wresting them from the hands of territorial goblins. Still, whatever their flaws, goblins are not stupid, and these ones do regular business with the townsfolk. They would see the merits in leaving alive errant children, surely? …Possibly?

It's a hope, at least. "And neither of these itinerant warriors has returned either?"

Whatever the answer, Haddon asks for some suitable scent traces of the children. Objects small enough to fit into vials would be ideal, but most such items wouldn't carry a scent. Worst-case, they can be bundled in canvas to protect their scents.

Then it will be about time for Haddon and Ashur to take their leave. "We shall do our utmost to retrieve your children, madam. I have encountered goblins before, and while larcenous and stubborn, they are not inclined to fight when they can hide or chase their foes away." That's usually true, at least.

Still, nothing says 'don't mess with me' like force of arms. This doesn't sound like a job that should be done without backup. The inn would be a sensible place to look, in addition to finally getting that meal he'd promised Ashur. Indeed, if memory serves, the innkeeper here was a formidable warrior in his day.

With that plan in mind, the pair walk past the well to the Old Boar.

In The Common Room
A slight bloom had crept over Lady Jastian’s cheeks while she listened to the others’ tales.  Her movements careful and controlled, she poured another half cup of mulled wine and took a cautious sip, savoring the spices’ flavor.  Her speech was also slower, her expression thoughtful, as if the locals’ anecdotes and the spiced drink had summoned forth troubling memories.  The lady rose to her feet, raising her ceramic cup as if she planned a toast.  Her left hand clenched the back of her chair, steadying her as she spoke.  “Should any of Sir Braford’s ill-starred band yet tarry among the living, it would be no kindness to have them bide longer for succor!  Let us venture forth on the morrow, our steeds caparisoned and ready ere dawn’s first light.”

Gazing around the room, she saw enthusiasm on a few faces, but others looked more reserved.  Winthrop’s uneasy reaction particularly caught the noblewoman’s eye.  Jastian’s tone grew more grim, her plea more impassioned.  “Some of you may think me in my cups, a woman driven by whim or caprice.  Others may be afeared that I know naught of the goblin-kindred, or that I would serve my followers ill, leading them into the goblins’ traps like coneys caught in a hunter’s snares.  Banish such unworthy phantasms from your minds!  ‘Tis not I who bargained with the subhuman wretches, bringing woe upon my house!  Know you not that such creatures lack a true soul, hungering only to deceive and steal?  Commerce with such brutes can only bode ill!

“I am the Wyverntongue, and I have not yet met the one who could master me!  Of a surety, no goblin ever shall!  Familiar am I with the treacheries of goblin-kind, for I have studied their ways and even mastered their uncouth tongue.  If  it is fitting that I do so, I may treat with the wretched creatures, but ‘tis more like that fire and sword shall purge them from their hidden lairs.  Let you of stout heart venture forth with me, discovering what we may of Sir Braford’s fate.  If ‘tis as dark as I fear, may the gods grant that we bring justice to those who wronged him.”  Raising her cup, the lady saluted the others in the chamber, then gulped down the remaining wine.  

Turning toward the stairs, Lady Jastian’s measured steps were almost steady.  “We ride at dawn!” she intoned as she mounted the narrow stairway.  

Arriving with maids in tow to the last scene Cudberct wanted, he stares discouraged at his noble guest's speech filled with bravado. Ysmeina starts to shake from suppressed sobs at "ill-starred band yet tarry among the living..." that he gently guides the poor lass to a quieter corner as he pushes Merewyn to help his wife. Standing between her and the rest of the room so as to maintain the maid's grief in private, he thinks (Not again! We don't need another hero.)

But now was not the time to insult a well-intentioned guest in the throws of virtue. Besides, having voiced the worst is likely no greater than Ysmeina's self-torturing imagination. It's still insensitive, however one cannot fault a newcomer's blasé assessment; Lady Jastian may not know but means well. Besides, a proprietor gets used to the vicissitude of guests.

And yet... she knows goblin language? And a veteran of their tactics? Useful if true. The cavalier attitude and preaching will likely be risky. And it'd possibly spoil peaceful goblin negotiations if Sir Braford's band still live. Honestly, being captured by ravine goblins and negotiating ransom would be a blessing compared to the other dangers in that ravine -- a hope best not dwelt upon.

Crap, she's ending her speech and off to bed! I admit something must be done, but at least have an evening to discuss logistics and tactics. Whatever, the wine likely made planning tonight with her off the table. *sigh* That leaves me, Dern Nacre, and Sgt Llewellyn to tidy up her impetuousness. Those made the shortest-lived leaders, and if truly careless troops as well, in Cudberct's experience. Yet she still lives, so perhaps...

And now I'm left consoling a heartbroken girl after being chastised by a stranger for us buying life-saving fruit from the "impure and unwashed." This'll be a disaster without a few more level heads. Where the hell are those two? Giving Ysmeina a moment to compose herself, Cudberct and her joins the evening meal with noticeable weight upon their mind.

While Haddon is no friend of the ravine goblins, arriving at the inn to seek aid for a rescue mission only to hear through the door a stranger raving about "soulless subhuman wretches" rather touches a nerve. His annoyance grows to anger when he pushes open the door and sees the discomfort and sorrow of so many at the callous stranger's words, who strides cavalierly away to enjoy the comforts of the town she's just finished verbally striking down.

Ashur tense at his side, he calls testily to the retreating woman, "It's lucky there are no inhuman wretches here now. Indeed, what audacity the townsfolk show, buying lifesaving magic from people who have risen above the stereotypes of their race to engage in civilized trade. Such a marvel for 'soulless' creatures!"

Haddon then pointedly ignores the noblewoman and turns to Cudberct. Fighting to keep his tone in check, he says, "I am here for a rescue mission, to find the Hucrele children and return them to Oakhurst. I had hoped there would be some here who could aid me in this endeavour. I have had dealing with these goblins, and it is unlike them to kill when they need not. You may not remember me, sir, but could you," turning to the room at large, he adds "or anyone, lend some aid in bringing them home safely?"

OOC: Sorry about this, but Lady Jastian was SO asking for it. Not trying to split the party before it even forms, here, I promise.

Winthrop looks from face to face uneasily.  He easily recognizes Cudberct's concealed unrest, bordering on anger - he's seen it before in their years of friendship.  The Lady's bold proclamation, and the arrival of the stranger, have resulted in a room with a considerably darker mood than moments before. Rising to his feet, he makes a placating gesture toward the gnome.

In hurried, only slightly broken gnomish, he says "The good lady has been on a hard quest, and nears the end of it. She has had perhaps a bit too much to drink, but her heart is in the right place."

Switching back to english, he raises his voice slightly, so the whole room can hear him.  "You are in luck, an expedition is already being readied to rescue the erstwhile youngsters.  We were just waiting on the local head of the guard before we finalized our plans."  He turns to the obviously distraught girls, winks, and says "But have no fear, they will return alive and unharmed.  Why it's just like the time we had to save two young lads who were kidnapped by wyvern-riding bandits..."

OOC: Winthrop would like to attempt to cheer up the distraught and calm the room down by telling a (probably wildly fabricated) story about some heroic mission that he may or may not have been a part of, which resulted in the villains being slain, and the kidnappees returning entirely unharmed.  I'm not sure if you would like a Perform check or not.  If a check is required, on a failure I think it would be most excellent if my story has the opposite effect, demoralizing those listening, al a Order of the Stick Elan's motivational speeches.

In the middle of taking to his chair Cudberct freezes upon the synchronicity of the scenes. The gnome tracker Haddon arriving at such a time, and on a mission similar? It is too much, obviously the fates have spoken. A soldier who survives knows when he's a pawn of greater powers, mortal and not.

Resign, and a bit relieved, that the choice is out of his hands he straightens to greet the new guest. "Haddon, your memory still remains among our humble town. Welcome, enjoy our fire, and if you have any requests don't hesitate to ask." Cudberct moves an empty smaller seat towards the fire for his new visitor.

Returning to the meal table, "Forgive me if I take a moment to eat with my work family. It's been a long day and they must be hungry. We'll be ready to serve afterwards." Perking up Cudberct adds, "My hound Patita and steed Buñuelo are much older now, no longer pup or colt, but they must remember a friend like you, Haddon. They are in the stable currently, along with several new faces, if you find yourself in the mood to meet old acquaintances."

Now that the stars command we must go forth, might as well relax and flow with the coming chaos of battle. All that is left to add is the return of a few more tacticians, a half-decent plan, and a little luck and maybe we all might return alive. Thankfully Ermengilda has been through this madness before; she'll man the fort, er, inn while we're away.

OOC: I like this. Sir Wulf floored the gas pedal and things get interesting. As long as we all don't run headlong into certain death, it's been fun.

Haddon is relieved that his outburst apparently didn't result in anything worse than his own embarrassment. Is was exactly that sort of impulse that got him removed from his post as a guard in Wheathill 7 years back. He had been tired of that job, but has only just returned to Oakhurst!

He offers a quiet word of thanks in Gnomish to Winthrop, respecting the man's desire to not make a scene.

To Cudberct, he replies, "Of course, I should not wish to keep you and yours from your meal. We have, after all, arrived rather late. I shall make sure to see Patita and Buñuelo again after these years, though I would like to get Ashur," gesturing as he says the name, "situated first. He has not inherited his mother's way with horses, and I should not wish to unnerve them. I imagine you remember Mala's– but I am keeping you. Thank you, a warm fire is just what we need."

After a brief argument with Ashur about the prolonged lack of food, Haddon gets the wolf settled and quietly begins unburdening them both of their armour and baggage, listening to Winthrop's tale as he does so.

Quote from: Warclam;600253It's a hope, at least. "And neither of these itinerant warriors has returned either?"

Kerowyn shakes her head. "Everyone fears the worst. I fear the worst."

Quote from: Warclam;600253Whatever the answer, Haddon asks for some suitable scent traces of the children. Objects small enough to fit into vials would be ideal, but most such items wouldn't carry a scent. Worst-case, they can be bundled in canvas to protect their scents.

Kerowyn gives you a pair of scarves made from amaranthine silk, one worked in ruby thread and the other in emerald. "They wore these nearly every day. Left them behind because they didn't want to spoil them. Nothing'll bear their scent so clearly."

Quote from: Warclam;600253Then it will be about time for Haddon and Ashur to take their leave. "We shall do our utmost to retrieve your children, madam. I have encountered goblins before, and while larcenous and stubborn, they are not inclined to fight when they can hide or chase their foes away." That's usually true, at least.

Although she's clearly in pain, you can see the keen business sense you've come to expect from the bloodsworn assert itself. She confirms your contract: 250 gp for each of her children alive; half that if you can at least return their signet ring.

And then she does something unexpected: She extends the same reward to anyone you can convince to go with you. This wasn't part of the contract. She's offering it from her own pocket. "If they're not inclined to fight, then chase them down. And bring back my kin."

Quote from: josh;600400ooc: Winthrop would like to attempt to cheer up the distraught and calm the room down by telling a (probably wildly fabricated) story about some heroic mission that he may or may not have been a part of, which resulted in the villains being slain, and the kidnappees returning entirely unharmed.

PERFORM CHECK = 11

OOC: With the outstanding circumstances, that's a complete face-plant of a failure as far as the girls are concerned. The rest of the room is largely unimpressed. Run with that as you will.

Quote from: Justin Alexander;600524PERFORM CHECK = 11

OOC: With the outstanding circumstances, that's a complete face-plant of a failure as far as the girls are concerned. The rest of the room is largely unimpressed. Run with that as you will.

OOC: Hurray!

Winthrop's tale is rambing, and more than a little confusing.  At first, he appears to be telling a story of his own adventures, speaking of a daring mission where he, Kerowyn Hucrele, and a wizened wizard named Randall set forth to rescue two young lovers from the Windstinger Gang.  It soon becomes apparent that he is obviously confusing parts of the story with the epic Tragedy of Darien and Julianne, especially around the point that Kerowyn Hucrele (known by the town to be quite alive) dies from a horrific infection obtained from a werebadger bite.

"...as Randall revealed himself to be the scion of Rthelyaptiocth, his true power came over him, washing over the doomed companions. Darien, who looked full upon Randalythca's horrible visage, cried out in madness, releasing his hold on the cliff. He plummetted down into the black waters of the lake, where his body was devoured by Locathah."

"Seeing the love of her life fall, Julianne drew forth at last Hatedrinker, her blessed blade of holiness, and plunged it into the cackling wizard's chest, screaming her anguish, loss, and devotion to Darien as she did.  The resulting clash of forces shook the mountain, buried the Blood Lake, and sent the wyvern riders to the north, from whence they have yet to return."

Withrop nods in satisfaction.  He glances around at the common room, who sit facing him in stunned silence, which is broken only by the muffled sobs of the two girls racing up the stairs.  He looks confusedly at Cudberct.  Then he spies the food, and grabs a biscuit, munching happily.

OOC: Cudberct, hope you don't mind me briefly dictating the girl's actions.  It seemed appropriate.

Ermengilda blinks a few times, smiles wryly while standing, and reaches for both maids' plates, "Why that was a most moving story Don Winthrop. Forgive our maids as they are still young at heart and such storytelling may leave a deep impression." She moves to place the plates back on the credenza (sill) open to the kitchen and covers them with clean kitchen towels.

Returning with another place setting Cudberct's wife continues, "Forgive my husband's rudeness Señor Haddon, we normally welcome our honored guests with offers of food at least, particularly those we haven't seen in so long. Since we have invited Doña Nacre to join our meal, and as we've been so blessed with your rare presence, it would be an honor for you to join as well. I simply cannot let you refuse."

Placing the new setting next to the empty one at the table, Ermengilda takes this opportunity to discreetly move the basket of biscuits closer to Mr. Winthrop's seat. (The man is obviously hungry for home comforts. Alone in his hills, he must miss the warmth of a lively hearth. I must remember to remind Cudberct to invite him over for a meal another day.)

Turning to return to her seat, conveniently near the kitchen entrance as if planned, she pauses, "Señor Haddon, what can we do for your companion Ashur? Ah, we have chicken and pork scraps for soup tomorrow. I shall go add potato and egg to it and cook up your friend a quick mejunje (big ol' mess, mix of ingredients). It will be no problem at all." She proceeds to the kitchen with determination.

OOC: Thanks for asking Josh, but it's no problem at all. These are all NPCs, and if we're very unlucky, our replacements. As long as the spirit of their behavior seems true, and they aren't used as metagame fodder, I'm fine.

Haddon listens with growing bafflement to Winthrop's story. Could the current Kerowyn Hucrele be this one's daughter, perhaps? No, that doesn't sound right... Why have Winthrop himself, and his wizard companion, seemingly vanished from the story? Who are these characters introduced partway through, and why do their names sound familiar?

Is every guest at the inn already drunk?

He is taken from his reverie by Ermengilda's voice. Belatedly, for she has already begun placing the setting, he manages to say "I would be honoured my lady, thank you." Haddon has never quite understood human titles (or age), and commonly refers to any human female at least twice his height as 'my lady'.

He rapidly gathers the leather plates and lamellae and stuffs them into a sack and then into Ashur's saddlebags. Ashur himself shows a marked reluctance to leave the fire, but is immensely cheered by the promise of a meal. He emits the frendliest noise he is capable of, a sort of short crooning howl, and takes the saddlebags in his mouth.

Haddon laughs. "And Ashur is most grateful as well. We traveled long and hard on the last of the roads to make Oakhurst before nightfall, and I suppose now we are feeling it." In a maneuver born of long practice, he hops onto the (to him) high-seated chair and sits on his ankles to get enough height to rise comfortably over the tabletop and stirs his sleepy mind toward proper conversation.

Sorry about the delay, for some reason I had a terrible time producing suitable dialogue. Haddon's charisma, alas, is much higher than my own.

"Certh, could you please pass the deviled whipped potatoes?" Cudberct busies himself scooping a side of snap beans seasoned in pork tidbits. 'Snaps 'n bits' has been a comfort food and one of the few dishes he could easily whip up. But his wife figured out the recipe while watching him ages ago. Now both know she's better at it, though the original has less garlic and spice. He won't openly admit it as it's the harmless little games that keeps their love fresh.

Certh on the other hand is a man who definitely knows his way around a kitchen. It's a tragedy he's had to restart his life from scratch. The man needs his own oven again. (Here we can't make the same large roasts like one can in a baker's oven, let alone help the local farms with their crocks and tureens.) With greater time and fuel loss, it's been a community hardship overall. (We still need a trained potter, not just for oven quality glazed tiles but on kiln and oven repair!)

Sadly his time here at the inn might have given him the adventuring fever, too. (The least I can do is get the man back on his feet, but that requires me to keep him alive first. And while at his wages it will take forever to raise enough money a month at a time, doesn't he know the community will gladly eat the cost? Soon after we find those Hucrele boys we better send out for a master potter.)

Thinking about the Hucrele rescue mission brings Cudberct back. Accepting the deviled whipped potatoes he then asks, "Well, it's an aired topic and eating in peace won't happen until we talk about it: what should we know about this rescue of the Hucrele kids, Haddon?" Dollops potatoes on his plate continuing, "Two weeks is long enough to wait, but we might as well discuss plans all night before we rush in."

Glances at the door, (Where the hell are those two, Nacre & Llewellyn?), passes the potatoes to Haddon, and starts eating.

Winthrop listens with mild curiousity to any conversation at the table, but does not chime in much.  He's more interested in the adventure than in the planning details.  He finishes the delicious repast, focusing primarily on the pastries, pies, and other baked goods.  Rising to his feet and stretching, he collects his haversack and axe belt.

"Well, I'm not sure if the Sergeant will be making an appearance tonight, I wonder what's keeping him.  No matter.  There's still a bit of dusk left, I may have time to catch a brace of quail for the road.  Could you tell your lady that I will meet await her at the south gate at dawn?"

He smiles and nods at Cudberct and his wife.  "Good to see you again, old friend.  Are you certain we can't convince you to join us?"

To Ms. Scroppings, Gileus, and Haddon, he makes a low bow.  "And well met, new friends.  I look forward to our adventure.  See that the old bore doesn't keep you up all night talking stategy."

He turns towards the door.

OOC: I'm assuming that a frontier-town's inn would be using wooden cutlery instead of something pricy like metal.

@Cudberct: After the long ride and several delays in obtaining a meal, Haddon allows himself to eat well. It's not as though filling his belly will noticeably alter the level of the dishes.

Happy to have a topic presented, he gives the question its due gravity. "It would be difficult, after that time, to find or follow their path directly. I have obtained scent traces of both children and Ashur will be keeping a wary nose, but we shall most likely need to find where the group first went in order to pick up their trail. This means, most likely, diplomatic contact with the ravine goblins. There I fear our skills will be of little help."

He hesitates briefly, and then continues quietly. "In addition, the Lady Hucrele has offered a great reward, 5 pounds of gold, for each of her children returned alive to each person who follows me. I confess, I am uncertain how to figure it since I am instead joining an expedition lead by another. I do not think Lady Hucrele would begrudge payment on such a happy occasion, but all the same I would not wish to have her generosity abused..."

@Winthrop: "Not to worry sir, Ashur never fails to tell me when bed-time has fallen. We shall be able to discuss more while traveling, with the addition of your counsel." A quick glance confirms that despite Winthrop's peculiar tale, his stride is quite steady. "To tomorrow, then."

Striding into the common room, Llewellyn briefly takes in the room, noting the assembled peoples ready to venture forth to discover the secrets behind the Sunless Citadel.  Hopefully, the price of learning would not be too high.

"Greetings, all!  My apologies for the lateness of my arrival, there was a small incident at Tercen Jondra's farm that required my attention..."  Signalling the barkeep for the usual pint of ale, he makes his way to the hearth to take some of the chill off.

Mug of ale in hand, and back to the fireplace, Sgt Ghorat Llewellyn takes the measure of each volunteer in turn.  "Tell me of the plans you have laid, that we may settle matters and be off at first light."

Winthrope's stories are often a bit unusual, but this one barely had a passing association with logic. Still, Hasor enjoyed listening to it. The sudden and late arrival of Sgt. Llewellyn causes a small stir through the common room. Hasor is the most visibly glad to see him; with his authority now behind the venture, Hasor is no just doubt showing what everyone else is feeling.

Having just missed Llewellyn's arrival, Winthrop stops to gather Barnaby from the inn's stable.  Barnaby, a dappled, crotchety warhorse with no discernible colour and a grumpy temperament, whinnies his annoyance at being woken by Winthrop, until he is placated by an apple pulled from Winthrop's haversack.

Winthrop doesn't bother properly saddling Barnaby; since they aren't going far, a jog would be nice to clear his head from all the rich food. He heads to the south gate, Barnaby begrudgingly trotting along beside him.

As he runs, he muses on the sudden adventure.  While a part of him cannot wait to be back on the trail, stalwart companions at his side, another part of him also remembers those companions that didn't return. And the citadel - there was something about that place that made him uncomfortable.  He did not relish the idea of charging in there blind.

Reaching the south of town, he begins to set up a small camp, pulling bedroll, cooking pot and feed from his improbably small backpack.  The night looks clear enough, so he does not bother with the tent.  He knows that Cudberct would have been happy to give him a room in the inn, but the man had given enough charity for one night, and Winthrop's coin purse was a little light for such luxuries.  Besides, there were few places where he was more comfortable than under the open sky.

Camp set and Barnaby appropriately settled, Winthrop set off to hunt.  So near the town, the chances of bandits were slim, and Barnaby barely tolerated Winthrop - he would tear apart any would-be horse thieves.  Heading into the gathering dusk, Winthrop hoped to find something tasty to speed the party on their way in the morning.

Ermengilda waves Cudberct to remain seated as she breaks from preparing Ashur's meal to get Sgt. Llewellyn his ale. "May everything be well with the Jondras now. Nothing serious I hope. You must have had a long day." Pouring a draught with a good head, Ermengilda pushes the ale to Llewellyn across the bar, "Maybe Tercen had you over for dinner afterwards, but if you still hunger just let me know. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

Cudberct smiles as the sergeant goes about his routine somewhat oblivious and speaking blithely. The familiarity brings a welcome contrast to the evening's earlier events. Well, there's no time like the present to bring him up to speed...

Speaking of previous events, the inn owner brings up the latest ravine related events. The summary ends with three prime different motivations: raid the goblins so they scatter away, find the Hucrele kids from Sir Braford's party, and explore the ravine and citadel for curiosity and profit.

"Obviously finding the Hucrele kin is first priority as it is the most time sensitive. They've been gone for two weeks, and while I've been out for longer than that in hostile territory, I usually was with a company and supply lines. It's a priority to Haddon as he's tasked by the Hucrele family directly, and, as a responsibility to my maids, also a priority of mine."

"Oh by the way, you must have noticed Haddon's companion near your feet, Ashur, if even perhaps you missed our rare visitor friend here at my table." Cudberct nods towards the large wolf sharing the fireplace. "It's been too long, I'm sure."

Ermengilda exits with the steaming pile of mejunje smelling far too good for mere scraps. Bringing the casserole dish to Haddon she asks, "I hope your friend enjoys this as I added a touch of home. It's usually spicier, but I toned it down just in case. Ashur doesn't know me, so excuse me as I leave you to offer this." Leaving towards the bar, "It goes best with small beer (light 2% beer). I get another bowl, it is no trouble."

"Maybe Tercen had you over for dinner afterwards, but if you still hunger just let me know. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

"Aye, had I accepted his offer, I would still be there!  They put out a feast every night, it's amazing any of them can still move about!" Llewellyn chuckles as he takes up the ale and leaves a few silver on the bar.  "I could only excuse myself after enjoying a small plate, or I would have been here in time to meet this fellowship as they arrived.  If you can, a plate of cold roast boar would settle me for the night."

Speaking of previous events, the inn owner brings up the latest ravine related events. The summary ends with three prime different motivations: raid the goblins so they scatter away, find the Hucrele kids from Sir Braford's party, and explore the ravine and citadel for curiosity and profit.

"Obviously finding the Hucrele kin is first priority as it is the most time sensitive. They've been gone for two weeks, and while I've been out for longer than that in hostile territory, I usually was with a company and supply lines. It's a priority to Haddon as he's tasked by the Hucrele family directly, and, as a responsibility to my maids, also a priority of mine."

"I fear two weeks has perhaps sealed the fate of those poor children, but we will find them nonetheless and bring justice to any who brought ill upon them."  Llewellyn thinks about the previous week, piecing together any information he has gathered about their whereabouts [Insert additional DM supplied information here :) ]

"Oh by the way, you must have noticed Haddon's companion near your feet, Ashur, if even perhaps you missed our rare visitor friend here at my table." Cudberct nods towards the large wolf sharing the fireplace. "It's been too long, I'm sure."

"Too long, indeed!  I hope the weather has not put our old friend in a less than pleasant mood..."

Distracted a moment from his thoughts, Llewellyn stoops to scratch between Ashur's ears and resumes his place by the fire.

"Are we all present, then?  I would lay plans and assure our supplies are laid in as well before the morrow.  We must leave by first light so we do not arrive too late at the ravine to begin preliminary investigations.  We will need to assign watch and determine the best order for us to ride to assure greatest safety for the party."  Thoughtfully taking a draught from his ale, Llewellyn sets the mug back down to await his meal.  While not often affected by ale, this is not the night to test his mettle against the alcohol.  "The village has some stores I can provide for official business such as this, if anyone has last minute needs, and Uleth can be rousted for any general provisions before we set out."

@Ermengilda: "Many thanks my lady, it smells like quite the best meal he has had for many weeks on the road." Haddon only struggles somewhat with the full-sized dish, mostly due to a slight numbness in his feet from sitting on them. Ashur, for his part, stays put only by long-drilled practice on how to behave among company. The instant the mejunje is put before him he begins eating enthusiastically.

<>

Ashur doesn't dignify that with a response, but does slow his pace fractionally.

@Llewellyn: "It is good to see you again, as well. We have traveled hard, but it is difficult to be ill-natured when in such fine comfort and company."

Haddon starts when the Sergeant reaches to pet Ashur, but the wolf is too engrossed in his meal to even react, much less stare or growl. He is more genial even than he was three months ago. At this rate, I shall have to worry more about him losing his wild spirit than causing problems with other people.

"There are others who intend to travel with us, as I recall. A lady strange to me, who retired not long ago, and a local woodsman whose name esc– no, it was Winthrop I believe. Enough, I hope, that the ravine goblins will be inclined to talk rather than play at silence. How has the situation been these past years? Have they kept mostly to their own land since we dispersed their camp?"

Aminda, who had been so still she was half-forgotten, stirs and arises from the seat she found near the fire. You can't tell if it is the chair that is creaking or her old bones. She makes her way to the table with the others...

"Good eve. It appears m'lady will have many riding out with her on the morn. Knowing m'lady finding the Hucrele boys will be of greatest import. In that vein where can I purchase some yards of canvas for a stretcher? It may be needed if the boys are hurt." She sits herself down, looks to Cudberct and says "You appear to know the area we'll be heading to. Is there sapling or wood there that can easily be crafted into poles or should I be looking to purchase some of those as well?"

"I'll be needing enough rations for myself and my two companion for the journey and enough extra for the boys' group when we find them." She looks at each of those assembled and wags her finger "And I'll be checking before we leave that the rest of you have enough rations too."

"Will you have enough here at the inn Master Cudberct or should I make my way to another shop before sunrise?" she jabs Cudberct in the ribs with a bony finger "And will you be joining us? I have a feeling your experience will be needed."

"Right. Now then. Tell me more of the troubles these Hucrele boys might have run into..."

"Well Doña Aminda, my dear husband is prone to caution, so don't be surprised about him bringing a cart and donkey to carry any wounded. If it's like previous times he'll like to bring a few extra people to maintain a safe camp, too," Ermengilda addresses the elder lady while dining. "And no Eadric, you may not go with them this time!" she turns seriously to the errand boy.

"Besides, you're needed here to help Johannes defend the maids and I in this inn," Ermengilda nods with a smile, while conscientiously serving Dern Nacre's place setting with food. Looking up, speaking to the ceiling, she adds, "And the light is much better by the fire if you plan to do any needlework." Ysmeina rushes head down embarrassed toward the fire with her embroidery gear. "A good brave man looks to care for those around them first before galavanting about," she scoops some last bits upon the plate, then leans in to Eadric and whispers,"and the maids could use a strong shoulder now."

Turning to Aminda and handing her the recently laden plate of food, "Since you sound like you are familiar with tending the wounded and maintaining a bivouac," grasping Aminda's arm with affection and gesturing with the other to eat, "I would be indebted to you if you could keep a safe camp by the ravine with others." Rises to the bar to refill her mulled wine glass and returns with a second for Aminda, "If and when the healer Doña Nacre comes we can talk with her to determine arrangements. Otherwise I have a healing stash of my own and together we can work on bivouac essentials."

"With Haddon and Aminda, I feel good with just Certh and Hasor assisting," Cudberct says. "Knowing you'll want some field experience naturally I won't expect you all to linger alone by camp. I'd like to leave at least one veteran with you during any major forays, though." Cudberct then suggests, "If we are all heavily invested in one delve though, it might be best to hire a few extra people to populate our camp to at least secure the horses and supplies."

"Why do you want to bring so many people this time when you and your war buddies went out with less?" blurts in Eadric, the evening's plans leaving him almost vibrating with excitement. A mere lad of 16 he's already above average in size for his age; farm food and regular labor has been good to him recently. But a few lean years on his home farm led to his current live-in arrangement. Several of his other siblings still work the farm, but being older were more likely to survive those years of hardship.

"Well, part of it has to with just plain ol' life experience, as we're all veterans of far less pleasant times in Garland Emerald," Cudberct starts, "But it also as to do with our familiarity with each other as a group." "When you already know the strengths and weaknesses of your companions, and where you fit in to complement those strengths and weaknesses," Cudberct polishes off a last bite from his plate, "you can begin to take more risks in preparation."

"However it's a bad habit that has cost more than a few lives. Legends and lore provide imperfect knowledge at best. And having backup is rarely a bad idea, even if it seems costly at first." Cudberct takes a mouth cleaning swig of ale and continues, "Now with a new crew, especially newly acquainted and of unknown capabilities, it's downright foolhardy to not take every advantage you can with coin." Laughing, "It's not like resurrection is cheap and easy, and available for you! That's stuff for those legends and lore that so many thoughtlessly trust their lives to!"

Gileus has been sitting quietly, still somewhat bewildered that their expedition has suddenly increased three fold.  Still, he would be a fool to not welcome his new companions, especially as some seem well acquainted with their destination.

"It seems this is not the first journey into the ravine for some of you.  Can you tell me what me other difficulties we might find there, or in the strange citadel?"

"Alas, I have been neither past nor below the ruins of the Old Road bridge over the ravine. I too would like to know what we must expect. In particular, I do hope there is a path down that does not require descending sheer cliffs."

Quote from: StormBringer;601850"I fear two weeks has perhaps sealed the fate of those poor children, but we will find them nonetheless and bring justice to any who brought ill upon them."  Llewellyn thinks about the previous week, piecing together any information he has gathered about their whereabouts [Insert additional DM supplied information here :) ]

OOC: I've tossed some additional information in the OOC character thread. For the kids: You're familiar with basically the same information as Kerowyn. A little over two weeks ago, the goblins stole the seedlings that had been planted from the magic apple.

Shortly thereafter, a knight named Sir Braford rode into town with another fellow named Karakas. Braford had a glowing sword and was in the common room almost every night telling tales. Karakas only put in the rare appearance.

Braford and Karakas recruited Talgren and Sharwyn and headed off down the Old Road to "find the goblins". Really no question about where they were going, but nobody has head from them since.

SEQUENCE 2: THE VILLAGE GREEN AT MISTY MORN

It's a late dawn in Oakhurst, the sun finally capping the high, mounded hills that rise to the east. In the early light, thick mist still clings to the air -- roiling through the deep, still-shadowed curves of the hills.

Lady Jastian and her company, emerging from the Ol' Boar, see Sgt. Llewellyn waiting for them. He's chatting with Hasor, who has already led several of the horses out of the stable.

Winthrop is riding in from the outskirts of town, patting Barnaby with absent-minded care on the neck.

OOC: If there's anything you feel you need to wrap in the Ol' Boar last night, go ahead. But let's wrap it up quick and move forward. Feel free to introduce yourself into this sequence at your leisure.

I'm going to give this scene on the village green until Wednesday; the primary goal being to get some connection between PCs who missed each other in the Ol' Boar last night.

Priority: Establish what your route/method of travel to the goblin portion of the ravine will be.

During the Night

As happened nearly every night, Jastian woke from her nightmare with a stifled gasp, yanking her dirk from its sheath.  Jastian’s free hand grabbed out into the darkness, still grasping the nightmare’s shadowy foe.  Her darkness-blinded gaze darted back and forth, trying to make out the chamber’s shadowy forms, struggling to spot unseen enemies.  

With a slow exhalation, Jastian recognized her surroundings, sensing the vague shadow of the side table with its pitcher, washbasin, and towels, her armor propped across the foldstool in the corner.  Judging from her fatigue and the awkwardness lingering from last night’s drink, Jastian suspected that several hours remained before dawn.  The sharp scent of last night’s illness wafted from her covered chamberpot, but at least her head had cleared.  

Should she return to sleep?  Jastian wondered.  She needed more rest, but the nightmares… She wasn’t ready to face her dead again:  So many dead.  The uncanny sight of her brother’s dead lips whispering the family’s curse, his voice the dust-filled muttering of a long-dead witch… Loren’s clawed body… a dozen other fallen allies…

It was too early to drink more.  What would the others think of her if she stumbled out besotted in the morning, like some drunken fishwife or slatternly southern courtesan?

Blindly stumbling across the darkened chamber, Jastian found her guisarme.  Her slender fingers fumbled at the oiled rags that shrouded its blade, finally managing to unfasten the cloth and expose the weapon’s comforting golden light.  She poured herself a goblet of water to wash the night’s foul taste from her mouth.  Spitting it out into the washbasin, she began her morning ablutions.  Goose pimples rose on her skin as Jastian sponged herself with the frigid water.  She considered waking a servant to warm a pot for her, but considering the way the locals had reacted to her words last night, she had best not coddle herself this morn.  She would be warm enough once she was done giving Paladin an extra brushing.  The sturdy bay would enjoy the extra attention.

Ambling into town, three roasted rabbits cooling on a line hanging from his saddle, Winthrop stretches and smiles.  It will be good to be on the road again.  Seeing the assembling company, Winthrop waves and calls out a greeting, then hoists the brace of rabbits.  "Anybody interested in a bite before we hit the trail? My own secret seasoning recipe."

As he dismounts, he considers the route ahead of him, his long years as scout and trail guide immediately taking over.  Were he alone, he would consider the direct route, heading straight to the ravine and lowering himself down on ropes.  It would be quicker, and might give him some element of surprise on the goblins.

But, surveying the rest of the party, he realizes that such an attempt would be foolish, and perhaps deadly.  Hasor was a great kid, but it was doubtful the boy could climb a ten foot ladder, let alone a rope.  And those weedy aides of the lady didn't seem much sturdier.  No, better to take the extra day or two, and take the safe route to the west.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Winthrop walks over to Llewellyn, nodding respectfully. "Glad to have you aboard, Sergeant."

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Winthrop walks over to Llewellyn, nodding respectfully. "Glad to have you aboard, Sergeant."

"Winthrop!  By the gods, we will eat hearty for this trip!" Offering his hand, Llewellyn greets the scout warmly, "I did not see you at the gathering last night, so I was unaware of our good fortune on this expedition.  I had despaired of leaving the horses and clambering down the ravine on foot, but I am sure you can find us a shorter way to take the horses with us.  Time is of the essence, and perhaps getting back as well..."

Hasor is used to waking early to tend the stables, but today was different. Too excited to sleep well, he rose several hours ago. With particular care, each horse has been fed, brushed, and led outside.

In total, the beasts make quite the herd on their own. His own Notos looks small even in comparison to Winthrop's trusty Barnaby, but is truly dwarfed by the Lady and Sergeant's heavier warhorses, Paladin and Justice. Still, Cudberct's pair of donkeys and trio of smaller warhorses would outnumber them all once Hasor had finished bringing them out from the stables. He remembered to give an extra apple to Aminda's donkey as well, recalling her stern request from the evening prior.


OOC: I'm working under the assumption that we'll be using Cudberct's cart and all available horses to mount the party. If anyone has another mount that I missed, let me know, otherwise at least one of us is riding in the cart.

Lady Jastian tried to keep a confident look on her face as she straightened her surcoat.  She raised her voice slightly to address the would-be adventurers and well-wishers slowly assembling in the inn’s courtyard.  “Good morn, worthy villagers!  A fortnight ago, the noble Sir Braford sallied forth beneath the ill-omened light of the moon Tiamat.  Under his banner traveled several young folk of this town, pure-hearted souls seeking adventure in a just cause.  These worthies have vanished out of all knowledge.  

“I am called Jastian, the Lady of Wyverntongue.   This day we ride, a mighty company called together in the name of a cause most worthy.  Together, our host shall face the wilderland, seeking to discover what fate befell Sir Braford’s band.”  Jastian’s tone grew more somber.  “With the guidance of those who know these lands, and the favor of the gods, we shall prevail over all adversity.”

She gestured toward the forester Winthrop. “Goodman Winthrop, your wood-wisdom should prove most helpful in choosing a path.  Would you guide our journey?”

Noting the gleaming mithral of Llewellyn's mail shirt, she strode toward him.  “Good Sergeant, I see from your gear that you will accompany our band.  You know more surely than I which of our company is most hardy and venturesome:  Surely you could best set who should stand at our van, flanks, and rear, that our stoutest veterans bear the brunt of any attack.  We shall not go seeking strife, yet we shall ever be ready should any offer us battle.”

Quote from: Tanthius;602494OOC: I'm working under the assumption that we'll be using Cudberct's cart and all available horses to mount the party. If anyone has another mount that I missed, let me know, otherwise at least one of us is riding in the cart.

OOC: Last night Aminda would have argued against the cart as we can move faster without the cart. And the boys went down the Old Road which would necessitate climbing down into the ravine. Cart (and steeds... eep) couldn't follow us anyways. If we aren't going to follow the boys directly and go the long way around into the ravine then speed is even more of the essence. So again no cart (but at least we'd be able to keep the mounts nearby). (We can go back and argue about this IC if desired)

OOC: If we are short a steed as Tanthius says Aminda would be willing to spot the gold for another donkey to be taken out of the recipients reward upon return. (Sorry for the long OOC!)

Aminda returns to the inn shortly before dawn hauling her new supplies with her. She nods approval to Hasor for assembling the horses and begins apportioning the supplies between the mounts to distributed the weight evenly.

She would go help Lady Jastian finish preparing in a moment and had hoped the lady would have had a good night's rest for once. But when she checked in before purchasing supplies it sadly did not appear to have been the case.

... And best make sure Gileus actually arose when she knocked 'pon his door... She sighed to herself as she tightened another strap.

Despite the late night, Haddon wakes at dawn as ever, to meditate and regain his focus for the day. He lost his temper last night, and regrets it even more after a night's rest. He resolves to be keep his peace in the face of mere annoyance, believing in friends old and new of the Lady Jastian's good intentions. He resolves to be sure Ashur retains his ability to thrive in the wild, for a wolf who forgets his true self is no wolf. The familiar ritual of analyzing his own actions and making plans for the better is soothing, and soon enough he is able to look forward to today.

Mindful of the day's goals, he sets Ashur out to hunt, cautioning him not to take too long or stray too far. So freed, Haddon keeps his promise in visiting the stables. He never feels the same connection with animals he cannot speak and listen to, but enjoys their company all the same. Hasor seems preoccupied and Haddon cannot even reach a horse's body, much less know how to tend it, but he offers what aid he can anyway.

Winthrop nudges Llewellyn with his elbow, gesturing discretely at Lady Jastian.  In a low tone, he murmurs "have you had a chance to meet our dear leader? She does go on, doesn't she? Doesn't she know brevity is the soul of wit?"

He is completely unaware of the hypocrisy in his statement.

OOC: Cudberct would agree that time is of the essence. However he finds using the ropes to go down and isolating the party from a cart and reserves to be madness. If they ever recover the lost party of Sir Braford, carrying the wounded or dead up the ravine on ropes in potential hostile territory is just asking for trouble.

Cudberct would plea talking to the ravine goblins first. His suggestion would be to race a parley group of the fastest steeds to the ravine with the cart following  apace. If diplo-party can call the goblins out of their ravine to talk they can get clues to Sir Braford's party whereabouts or understand how much damage they've done to relations. Either way the cart of supplies should arrive near enough to: a) provide a safe point to survive and regroup if goblins are hostile, b) prep going around & riding into the ravine to carry any wounded and dead safely.

As the morning preparations continue, Cudberct steals a moment alone with his wife. Looking down to Ermengilda as if scrying her eyes' depths (so dark, hard to read, but how have I relied on her reassuring mystery), "I know you will take care of everybody while we're gone. But I'll try make this foray as fast as we can." Caressing her cheek subconsciously, "This is a rescue mission to me first. We need to bring people back alive before we worry about mysteries, lore, and wealth. I know what is worth living for."

His wife's eyes glisten, but she recovers by smiling impishly and replying, "Besides what sort of inn would we be if our fame comes from filling our guests with stories of adventure that lead to their death?" Taking an opportunity to turn away before crying, "We have appearances to keep, the hospitality of a town to maintain. Oh, go eat breakfast now, I have much to pack for you in the meanwhile"

Embracing her back, Cudberct rests his lips in a kiss upon the crown of her head, "I will be back." Closing his eyes he breathes in the scent of her hair, (ahh, her... and lavender?) pulls away reluctantly and heads downstairs for breakfast. (There's so much I want to say. But the time for heavy words is past. I must focus or risk not coming back.)

OOC: Cudberct will send for at least two additional hirelings to guard the caravan, willing to cover the cost himself. He knows Hasor and Certh want to get a little "action" in and having them stuck guarding the caravan donkeys might be the fastest way to spoil their spirits. Besides, Aminda as healer and Haddon as 'the friendly goblin translator' and tracker, have greater responsibilities than being another swordsman guarding the van. Cudberct needs success in this mission, too much in the town depends on it.

"Thank you for that inspiring speech, Lady Jastian! Our cause is just, people depend on us! We work now as one to bring back all!" Changing tone, Cudberct adds, "Before we place our lives in each other's hands I ask one thing of you all: honesty.

"I don't need to know your intimate secrets. But as we work together, we all will need to know each other's feelings. Speak when things are too hard; speak when your talents know the answer; speak when your guts fear. Without sharing as a team and reacting instinctually as one we will surely die when danger strikes. What little travel time we have requires openness.

"When you are ready, stand in a line beside me for revue. Sgt. and our Lady will inspect us and our gear before we ride. There will be no casualties due to sloppiness!" Stands at parade rest, eyes forward, in his courtyard and waits.

Aminda comes up alongside Cudberct leading Ol' Frisky her mule.

"I hope everyone brought at least the twenty days worth of rations I recommended. We don't want to spend time foraging out there."

Lady Jastian stepped behind Aminda, her actions strangely furtive.  Jastian's voice lowered to a whisper.  "I can bestow but a few sovereigns toward the cost of supplies.  Make the best of them, for our purse grows most light!  Should we fare ill, 'tis like that long weeks of bare gruel and the meager comforts of the dusty ground be all our coffers shall afford.  Pray the gods soon favor us with some treasure!"

Jastian passed her a small pouch bulging with coins.  "Here is half of our current fortune, gold and silver worth 23 sovereigns or somesuch amount.  I trust not the foreign gold we received before we crossed that last river:  It had the taste of lead-tainted coin when I had leisure to check it."

“From what I hear of this canyon, t’would be wisest to traverse along its length, ensuring our retreat remains clear. While the journey may prove longer, this may allow our band to bring the horses, which may prove needful should we wish to evacuate wounded allies or survivors from the first expedition. Should we encounter an overwhelming force, ‘tis certain that a retreat on horseback would be preferable to clambering up a rope while suffering the slingstones or arrows of wrathful goblins.”

Lady Jastian’s jaw tightened as she examined the villagers’ zealous preparations.  “You know your land better than I, but this gorge’s terrain:  Is it such that a waggon would not slow us overmuch?  Should we be separate overmuch from our baggage train, I fear that we should lose more stout lads to the wild’s perils.  A pair of hardy pack mules would better suffice, if local forage be adequate to support all our mounts.  Such beasts readily traverse the rocks and scarps of a wilderness, while a waggon might force us to wield my trusty polearm as the pruning hook from which its type descended!”

Noting the shabby condition of some of the nearby cottages, Lady Jastian had an idea.  "Have you a fence nearby, one no longer vital for any purpose?  Were we to load a few stout pickets on each animal, we could carry enow wood to build a partial fence or stake barrier when we make our camp."

Leaning down, she traced out the shape of a stake barricade in the dust.

Cudberct replies to Lady Jastian conversationally, moving only his eyes while remaining in formation, "I don't want to make the party presume we'll be going at the speed of our slowest donkey. I just want you, the Sgt., possibly Haddon as another goblin translator -- in case they try to hide things from us in parley we'll need all the ears we can -- and Winthrop as guiding scout to ride SW to the ravine bridge. That way we can follow up on our only real lead as soon as possible, while having a nearer supply base on the Old Road."

Breaking into a smile, "I'll gladly go in the forward parley party if you want, but I'm flexible and don't mind guarding the 'forward base.' Twenty miles is too long to push the horses in a day to ride back safely in an emergency. Besides, it'd be night if you do attempt it all today." Nodding his head towards the animals, "Given a full day however, our cart should easily be close enough by morning for you to parley and return safely to our camp. And also it will remain far enough to stay relatively safe from any angry goblins, while keeping a less aggressive posture. If their scouts have any reservations about our cart, say plainly that we're preparing transport of any wounded from the previous party.

"If we get our lost back at the broken bridge, a medic camp halfway would be best in case of any casualties. If we need to go into the ravine proper, we'll have a base to reassess the threat and plan accordingly. The Ashen Plain's terrain is just as dangerous a threat on our retreat as any monster, and it's a relentless one regardless of the type of pack animals we take."

Looks down unhappy at the thought, "At that point it'd be a rough slog through for survival; we'd have to think about supply trains. Twenty miles West of here is the easiest slope to get animals down into the ravine. Then another twenty or so miles South to get to the point of ravine's broken bridge. That's a choice of 40 miles through a dusty ravine and barren wasteland. Or we can take our chances with a sheer cliff only passable by old, broken, or goblin made, ropes."  Cudberct's sad eyes meets Lady Jastian's, "Neither's a choice I'd prefer with such a green crew. I think you already see how the terrain is against us."

Smiling, he adds, "Let's pray that this goes the easy way, then."

Mika and Maggie choose this moment to lead the cart from around the back of the Ol' Boar. As it grinds to a halt, Maggie reaches over the side and plucks out the short sword she was issued as a member of the volunteer militia. Mika is already wearing his and Maggie straps hers on as she strides over to Cudberct with a jaunty smile.

"I don't think Jordan will be joining us. The missus has him milking the goats. But we'll take our seven day wages and the money you promised us for rations and wine."

Mika turns to the rest of you. "Load 'em up, boys!"

OOC: These are the two hirelings Cudberct wanted. They're members of the town militia. Pay is 3 sp per day and they want seven days pay up front and they want money for rations and a few waterskins each. 4 gp, 2 sp total for their seven day wages. And if you go with Aminda's recommendation of 20 days of rations, they'll each want 15 gp more for rations and wineskins. They can probably ride in the cart unless it gets heavily filled. Otherwise, we'll also need to talk mounts for them.

Once paid, Mika and Maggie head towards Hucrele's general store, tossing their coinpurses in the air with a jolly air about them.

Previously in the morning, Cudberct gives staff instructions

"Eadric, go to the Hucrele compound and ask for any hired guards interested in a small job. If you can, report them and any militia locals interested to the inn."

----------

"Certh, rations can be expensive. Their prime advantage is their lightweight in the face of hard travel. I want to reserve those for any Ashen Plain travel.

Go to the market and get us some real food for the early part of this trip. Perishables make for better eating at the beginning, and might befriend us a hungry goblin or two. In fact, keep in mind some goblin favorite foods as potential bribes. The less combat the better. I trust your cooking talents here.

----------

"Hasor, I trust you to supply the feed for the animals in the cart. Thankfully donkeys are hardy and keep feed supply issues down. Put saddlebags into the cart as well just in case we plan to switch up our pack formation. Bring Buñuelo's leather barding just in case as well."

----------

(during last night) "Johannes, I entrust to you the greatest of tasks, guarding my family from violent travelers and tavern drinkers. As an experienced farmer, yours is a watchful eye and keen judgment to nip problems in the bud before bloom. Eadric's a big lad and can help, but he needs to know how a mature man's talk can stave off even more."

---------

"Ysmeina and Merewyn, while away listen to Ermengilda in all things. She's familiar with large homes before and has seen to my defense during perilous times. She won't admit to it, but she's heavily pregnant now and needs helping hands to enact her better judgment. She's capable in a crisis. Oh, and do rest your troubles as we will be successful."
;)

"Excellent to see you Mika and Maggie! Worry not about rations and water, it will be covered, for do I not run an inn? Certh was at our pantry and market busy gathering perishables, which saves money and preserves rations in case we face the real danger of travel in the Ashen Plain and cut off by the ravine bottom. I'll provide two weeks worth of dry rations, but we will have at least a week of regular perishable food."

OOC: (Naturally, I'm not profiting off myself here. Don't know how you'll class it JA, but perishable good/common meals per day wouldn't be at cost.)

"We'll be bringing at least one barrel of water and another of small beer (1~2%), which works well as compact food and drink. Liquid bread for the road we call it! And not as much alcohol as wine to get so dehydrated. We shall all share this as it will cut down on personal costs and our faithful mounts' loads during forays. You won't need but one or two wineskins. As long as we don't overload the cart, about a ton, the donkeys will be alright."

Winthrop nudges Llewellyn with his elbow, gesturing discretely at Lady Jastian.  In a low tone, he murmurs "have you had a chance to meet our dear leader? She does go on, doesn't she? Doesn't she know brevity is the soul of wit?"

He is completely unaware of the hypocrisy in his statement.
Chuckling softly, Llewellyn mutters back, "I think all 'officers' are like that on their first few expeditions.  One must exercise patience with children, small dogs, and newly minted leaders..." finishing with a broad wink to his compatriot.

Cudberct replies to Lady Jastian conversationally, moving only his eyes while remaining in formation, "I don't want to make the party presume we'll be going at the speed of our slowest donkey. I just want you, the Sgt., possibly Haddon as another goblin translator -- in case they try to hide things from us in parley we'll need all the ears we can -- and Winthrop as guiding scout to ride SW to the ravine bridge. That way we can follow up on our only real lead as soon as possible, while having a nearer supply base on the Old Road."



Smiling, he adds, "Let's pray that this goes the easy way, then."
"If I may interject, milady...  This seems like the best plan.  As much as I would normally advise against dividing the...", Llewellyn glances about the group searching for the right word,  "platoon under normal circumstances, I would also very much advise against leaving the horses hobbled with minimal guard while we explore the ravine and possibly beyond.  As well, bringing a number of adults and children whose health we do not know with us on our return with only horses would be a near impossibility.  Wouldn't you agree?"  Llewellyn carefully words the plan as a suggestion to allow Lady Jastian the appearance of decision, while using inflection to emphasize the importance of agreeing; the rest of the group will put their faith in her if she is seen making important decisions.

(EDIT:  I don't know if this next bit was before or after the previous discussion; I think it was in a later post, however.  Whichever of these two parts needs to come first, I will edit to re-arrange)

"We'll be bringing at least one barrel of water and another of small beer (1~2%), which works well as compact food and drink. Liquid bread for the road we call it! And not as much alcohol as wine to get so dehydrated. We shall all share this as it will cut down on personal costs and our faithful mounts' loads during forays. You won't need but one or two wineskins. As long as we don't overload the cart, about a ton, the donkeys will be alright."
"As this concerns village business, there will be no problem for the village to pay for it.  I have some reserves for such expenditures, and the success of this effort is critical.  Obtain what victuals you deem necessary, and charge them to my office" Llewellyn instructs Cudberct, "I can think of no better reasons to open the coffers than the safety and well being of our citizens, after all."

Done with the other mounts, Hasor makes a final trip to bring Gileus' mule outside. Another double check of Cudberct's barding is in order as well, then to bring out the extra saddlebags. As he finishes up, Hasor does another quick head count: enough mounts for everyone except Mika and Maggie, and two donkeys left over to pull the cart, or carry supplies on their saddles.

"Mika! Please tell me you put the barrels on the cart before you wheeled it all the way out here. I don't relish the idea of lugging them both out by hand."

OOC: I've purchased saddlebags for whichever mounts Winthrop, Aminda, Certh, and Haddon use (they're the only ones without saddlebags on the character sheets already). Full details in the other thread.

Winthrop watches the furor of the assembling party with amusement. This notion of baggage carts and supply lines is foreign to him.  Why travel with such burdens when the land provides such things in plenty? He is impatient to depart, but as he waits he wanders amidst the group with a cheerful greeting here and an amusing anecdote there, knowing that nothing sours an expedition faster than a poor start.

He supports Cudberct's plan if that is what the other leaders desire, so long as "A stout fellow like you remains with the less experienced guarding the train." He also doesn't stand in parade formation, daring Cudberct to challenge him with a wry smile.

Quote from: StormBringer;602973Smiling, he adds, "Let's pray that this goes the easy way, then."[/COLOR]
"If I may interject, milady...  This seems like the best plan.  As much as I would normally advise against dividing the...", Llewellyn glances about the group searching for the right word,  "platoon under normal circumstances, I would also very much advise against leaving the horses hobbled with minimal guard while we explore the ravine and possibly beyond.  As well, bringing a number of adults and children whose health we do not know with us on our return with only horses would be a near impossibility.  Wouldn't you agree?"  Llewellyn carefully words the plan as a suggestion to allow Lady Jastian the appearance of decision, while using inflection to emphasize the importance of agreeing; the rest of the group will put their faith in her if she is seen making important decisions.

"M'lady never suggested splitting the party or hobbling horses lad. She said we'd leave the cart and ride around. Awfully similar to Cudberct's plan but without a cart. Without a cart it would be a day to get down to parley, 3 days, maybe a bit more, to circle around into the ravine and then 3 days back ta town. Well maybe more coming back if stretchers for the wounded slow us down. That is 7 days of travel time instead of 12.

But do not be concerned I am sure the boys can wait for us." Aminda gives the Llewellyn a broad smile of full of crooked teeth but it doesn't reach her eyes.

OOC: DonEstaban's character sheet had a saddlebag, Tanthius, so Aminda won't be needing one. Thanks though.

Just turning his neck in the general direction of Sgt & healer, Cudberct says, "Ahh, then it must have been my misunderstanding, Aminda. I'm sure Lady Jastian has the best intentions for us. It just has been a rather squished time frame to get everyone marching together. That and, well, this expedition has been overdue -- it seems a lot of nervous energy is being released. My apologies."

"And thank you Sgt., I will take you up on that offer to help cover provisions. Perhaps the militia could use more saddlebags anyway, but I'll pay for at least two to cover my staff's horses (Certh & Hasor). I see no reason to tap town reserves for something I might need in the future." Smiling, "We'll have time to talk expense details on our return. Ermengilda and your deputy can hash out a receipt for it while we're away."

"Shoulders back, Winthrop." Wry smile slowly follows a sideways look, "It's good for your posture."

Haddon is long-accustomed to hunting for food with his companion, but those assembled are quite insistent on bringing rations and there may be little game so close to the Ashen Plain. If Cudberct is providing them himself, there is no reason to refuse.

Haddon is a little uncomfortable in the large group without Ashur. He does his best to speak and plan with the others, but is noticeably more at-ease when Ashur returns, smelling of fresh blood.

Gileus stands quietly aside while the others talk strategy and tactics.  Best to leave that to the experts.  He fidgets nervously, and checks his pack for the umpteenth time.  He's learned little about the ravine, and nothing about the citadel, and it makes him uneasy heading into the unknown.

"M'lady never suggested splitting the party or hobbling horses lad. She  said we'd leave the cart and ride around. Awfully similar to Cudberct's  plan but without a cart. Without a cart it would be a day to get down to  parley, 3 days, maybe a bit more, to circle around into the ravine and  then 3 days back ta town. Well maybe more coming back if stretchers for  the wounded slow us down. That is 7 days of travel time instead of 12.
Llewellyn faces away from Lady Jastian and addresses Aminda directly so his words do not carry, "And I would rather not have the options seem worthy to her, lest her inexperience draws her to a less than optimal conclusion.  Without the cart, getting even the children back would be nigh impossible, let alone the whole party, unless they are in perfect health."

Glancing to the side at the sound of his name, Llewellyn turns to Cudberct and smiles at the doughty tavern owner.

"And thank you Sgt., I will take you up on that offer to help cover provisions. Perhaps the militia could use more saddlebags anyway, but I'll pay for at least two to cover my staff's horses (Certh & Hasor). I see no reason to tap town reserves for something I might need in the future." Smiling, "We'll have time to talk expense details on our return. Ermengilda and your deputy can hash out a receipt for it while we're away."
"I have no doubts that your wife is as honest and shrewd as yourself, good innkeep!  I will take her word on the details of the provisioning." Llewellyn smiles as he gives Cudberct a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and lowers his voice somewhat, "Besides, I would not want to face her wrath if all she had to do was worry about your return while we were gone!"

Watching as the others prepared, Lady Jastian tried to keep her frustration to herself.  These rustics clearly had little experience with nobility.  She must be patient with their thoughtless slights and petty argument:  Until she had proven her worth, they doubtless regarded her as little better than the feckless knight-errant who had led their sons to doom.  

Gileus seemed ill-at-ease as well, likely as bewildered as Jastian by the villagers’ chaotic preparation.  Perhaps a distraction would lay his mind at ease.  “Scholar Gileus, coulds’t thou bring Nanny Scroppings some of the bread and honey butter I saw in the inn?  ‘Tis like she has not broken her fast this morn, laboring like a dwarf chiselmaster in the last hours of a masterwork.”

Winthrop looks around the green nervously. Already he sees strife. The sergeant and Aminda make an almost comical pair, he a tower of muscle speaking to such a tiny old woman in low, heated tones.  Cudberct, trying once again to impose his military aesthetic on the free spirited others - Winthrop included, the woodsman was forced to admit.  And where he had seen Jastian's exuberance last night as the sign of a natural leader, in the morning it looked more like inexperience, and dare he say, drunkenness?  Something had to be done.

Raising his voice, he called out "so it's settled then? One group on horse to parley, one with the wagon for supplies? Then we should set off, with haste, the morning is wasting.  Could the parley expedition follow me? I will leave trail markers for the other group, Cudberct knows what to look for."

He mounts Barnaby, and slowly makes for the south gate, hoping the others will follow. He will turn back to collect the party if necessary, but knows from years of experience that often the only thing necessary to galvanize a party is for someone to take the first step.

Inwardly, Winthrop dislikes the idea of splitting the group already. But his desire to get on the road easily overrides his willingness to stay and argue.

Quote from: StormBringer;603436"And I would rather not have the options seem worthy to her, lest her inexperience draws her to a less than optimal conclusion."

Aminda genuinely smiles at this, places her hand on his forearm and, in equally hushed tones, says "You should realize that I support the cartless plan, lad. I feel that if there is any hope for these boys it is in getting to them quickly so we can dig them out of the trouble they are in before it worsens or treat their wounds before it is too late. I think, as I originally stated, that stretchers will work for transporting wounded. I fear the cart will only arrive late enough to carry their corpses home."

"But I can tell you young lads won't listen to an old lady. And I hope you prove me wrong. But you should carry away at least this, Lady Jastian is not as inexperienced as you may believe."

After taking a moment to adjust Paladin's girth, Lady Jastian confidently swung up into her saddle.  "To your mounts!  Lead party, fall into file behind Winthrop!"

Seating her polearm into its place, the noblewoman quickly checked her weapons, ensuring each could be readily drawn.  Her trained eye noted that Winthrop's gear seemed well-arranged.  The man was clearly an experienced traveler.

Nanny Scroppins also seemed ready to travel.  "Kind Aminda, thinkest thou that thy mount may keep apace with these steeds?  Thy healing skills may prove helpful afore the waggon reaches the gorge."

Lady Jastian reached down to scratch Paladin behind his ears.  She cared deeply for her brave destrier, but knew she would feel less charitable toward the trail's end, after a day of his bone-jarring gait had left her sore and weary.  

Quote from: Fenyx4;603576If ( mention of a first rescue party wasn't in error )

OOC: No previous rescue party. To clear this up, there's one group missing: Sir Braford, Karakas, Talgren Hucrele, and Sharwyn Hucrele. Talgren's a guy. Sharwyn's a girl. They're both teenagers who have been trained in a bloodsworn academy. They both have girlfriends.

Lady Jastian swings up into her saddle and with great bravado rides off, catching up to Winthrop only a short distance down the Old Road. Sergeant Llewellyn gives a final squeeze to Cudberct's shoulder, swings up into Justice's saddle, and follows with only a slight rolling of his eyes.

Despite their training, the horses shy and start a little as Haddon comes riding up on the back of his wolf -- the fur around its mouth still damp with the blood of a recent kill. But with a wink, the gnome gives a little whistle and the horses settle. One even even taps its head companionably against the wolf's flank as if they were old friends.

ROLL 13 + HANDLE ANIMAL 9 = 21

As the near the edge of Oakhurst, Winthrop can see that Lady Jastian is preparing to spur for speed, but he holds up his hand. "A moment, please. There's something else we should consider. About three miles north of where the collapsed bridge is, there's a narrow gulch that slopes down into the ravine -- too narrow for the cart, but wide enough for our horses to pass with relative ease."

Llewellyn shakes his head. "I've never heard of anything like that."

"The top of the gulch is in a large copse of trees, so not easily spotted. And the bottom is obscured by a patch of thick overgrowth, too. I don't think anyone knows of it. Not even the goblins. It would probably add an hour or so to our riding, but we wouldn't need to worry about climbing down the cliff walls at the bridge. And we'd have our horses with us for a quick escape."


OOC: Per instructions, I'm extending this scene to let people respond to Winthrop's information.

Meanwhile, back at the village green... The haggling over supplies continued.

Aminda genuinely smiles at this, places her hand on his forearm and, in equally hushed tones, says "You should realize that I support the cartless plan, lad. I feel that if there is any hope for these boys it is in getting to them quickly so we can dig them out of the trouble they are in before it worsens or treat their wounds before it is too late. I think, as I originally stated, that stretchers will work for transporting wounded. I fear the cart will only arrive late enough to carry their corpses home."
"Dragging them 20 miles on stretchers almost guarantees we would have corpses before we got back," Llewellyn pauses momentarily from tying his saddlebags down, "we could scarcely drive the horses at better than a walk, which would take twice as long getting back or more."

Llewellyn resumes packing up, "The van will extract the group and stabilize injuries while the others catch up with the cart with additional supplies to insure their safety and survival on the return trip.  It offers the best odds for a successful return."

"But I can tell you young lads won't listen to an old lady. And I hope you prove me wrong. But you should carry away at least this, Lady Jastian is not as inexperienced as you may believe."
"I pray you are correct."  Llewellyn frowns to himself for a moment, "Impatience is not a good sign; rushing ahead often brings unwanted consequences, and the margin for error is slim enough already."

Lady Jastian was overjoyed at the news.  "A hidden path into the gorge?  I had hoped the gods would show us such a way!  'Tis too much to hope that any such route would lie hid from the place's inhabitants, but t'will save us hours of vain search.

"I scorned the others' fear that we needs must travel a dozen leagues from our route if we were to enter the chasm, but was sore afrighted that our cavalcade would raise alarm among the goblin-kin as we searched for a better path."

Quote from: Justin Alexander;603764Despite their training, the horses shy and start a little as Haddon comes riding up on the back of his wolf -- the fur around its mouth still damp with the blood of a recent kill. But with a wink, the gnome gives a little whistle and the horses settle. One even even taps its head companionably against the wolf's flank as if they were old friends.

Hah, slick. Wish I had thought of that; I need to keep in mind I can use HA on other animals too.

"If this gulch is so well-hidden, I suppose there would be no merit in looking for signs of the previous band's passage. Still, I would like to have Ashur search thoroughly before we leave the road, and again when we reach the canyon if possible. It is unlikely that usable traces remain near Oakhurst, but if they were forced to take a slower route they may have reached goblin territory only recently.

"It seems we will arrive much sooner than I had anticipated. Perhaps we ought to discuss... diplomatic strategies?" Haddon tries to mask his uncertainty as to the fate of negotiations, concerned about Lady Jastian's apparent zealotry. As he sees it, peaceful negotiation is still the best chance for everybody to come back safely.

As the near the edge of Oakhurst, Winthrop can see that Lady Jastian is preparing to spur for speed, but he holds up his hand. "A moment, please. There's something else we should consider. About three miles north of where the collapsed bridge is, there's a narrow gulch that slopes down into the ravine -- too narrow for the cart, but wide enough for our horses to pass with relative ease."

Llewellyn shakes his head. "I've never heard of anything like that."

"The top of the gulch is in a large copse of trees, so not easily spotted. And the bottom is obscured by a patch of thick overgrowth, too. I don't think anyone knows of it. Not even the goblins. It would probably add an hour or so to our riding, but we wouldn't need to worry about climbing down the cliff walls at the bridge. And we'd have our horses with us for a quick escape."

"An hour's time seems like a good investment to investigate this route.  It could be the difference between success and failure."  Llewellyn scratches his chin thoughtfully, "Do you recall if the copse was large enough to perhaps hide the cart?  I would very much like to reduce the temptation to passersby, if at all possible."

"The top of the gully is a sizable copse of trees, it might hide a wagon.  I had the sense that our dear friend Cudberct had a mind to drive that damned wagon of his into the middle of the damned goblin camp, though."  Winthrop is startled by the heat in his own words.  Maybe the bickering of the morning had affected him more than he thought.

"I don't suppose one of you would mind keeping an eye on Barnaby for a while?  Don't worry, he'll follow you without much fuss, although I can't guarantee he won't bite.  I have a mind to stretch my legs and maybe look for tracks our quarry might have left behind."

"A secret way to the ravine that saves several days of travel? I think I would have liked that more than another story of legend around dinner, Winthrop." Cudberct says with an eyebrow raised. "Either way though our primary focus is recovering Sir Braford's party."

"We shouldn't reveal this secret pass earlier than we need to, though. I still think following up on our ravine goblin lead is best. With an honest conversation, and Patita and Ashur sniffing about, we should figure out if they're telling the truth and how cold the trail is."

"If all is easy we get them back and don't even have to go into the ravine. Otherwise we can have a forward party use the secret pass to scout the ravine for tracks. That way we can then talk how to best continue the search." Cudberct thinks, "If they're not with the ravine goblins, and not in the ravine itself, I guess they'd be with where the goblins hide their special fruit trees. Sir Braford said he wanted to find it. Who knows where that can be?"

Ooc: a quick note. Cudberct and the cart party are completely unaware of the secret pass. Winthrop specifically delayed mentioning it until after the parley party had departed, knowing that it would cause nothing but more arguing, which he really wants to avoid. He didn't even remember the pass until this morning.

Also, I'm okay with a jump to the tracking/arriving at the gorge.

Quote from: Josh;604014Ooc: a quick note. Cudberct and the cart party are completely unaware of the secret pass.

OOC: Just quoting that to confirm that Josh is correct: The parley group (Jastian, Llewellyn, Haddon, and Winthrop) rode off, then the discussion happened. Everyone else is still back at the cart.

QuoteAlso, I'm okay with a jump to the tracking/arriving at the gorge.

OOC: That's my plan. Little bit delayed at the moment because I've run into some headaches installing new hard drives in my computer. (I'm also hoping that the currently-completely-empty-but-possibly-with-two-barrels-no-one-has-paid-for cart will be stocked up so that I can kick both groups down the road.) Late this evening at the latest, though, we'll be re-framing to sequence 3 unless something goes seriously awry.

Haddon volunteers to watch Barnaby. The party has begun fragmenting alarmingly, but it seems Winthrop wishes some time to calm himself after the morning's unpleasantness. Haddon would feel frankly hypocritical to stop him, today.

OOC: Just took a look at the stats for horses. My, but a heavy warhorse is a fearsome beast.

Sensing Haddon's unease, Winthrop smiles reassuringly as he swings down from Barnaby's saddle. "Don't worry, I won't go far."  Winthrop proceeds to trot alongside the horses at a surprisingly quick pace, the rise and falls of the hills not bothering his experienced legs one bit.  As he travels, he watches for tracks that might indicate the doomed expedition passed this way. He doesn't expect to find anything after so many days on a well travelled road, and so he doesn't slow his pace at all, but he keeps his eyes open.

(Cudberct, Certh, Hasor, Gileus, Aminda, Mika, & Maggie are left as the cart party)

"Well Gileus and Aminda, no time like the present. Everybody, if we're ready we should go." Gets atop Buñuelo, and Patita (the rascal) hops into the cart. Turning again to Gileus and Aminda, "I'm afraid we have the advantage of familiarity with each other, living in town and working in the militia. But I hope we get to know each other today, and hopefully be friends, as shared strength shall bring us success.

"I know these men have stout hearts and some training. But I do have the most experience here among them. Certh can fight as well as manage camp food supplies, Hasor is learned as well as an animal handler, Maggie and Mika are good with a sword." Like a proud parent, Cudberct looks over his trained crew, "However, I don't know how experienced are the both of you."

As the group starts upon the Old Road from Dern Nacre's healer house, Cudberct explains, "Obviously if you have traveled with Lady Jastian this far to the edge of civilization, let alone fought with her in large campaigns against goblins as she says, then you both must be very skilled adventurers." Tilts his head and gets to the heart of the matter, "If you had to say which of you two were the more experienced battle veteran, who would it be? And what talents do you feel you bring to our part of the group?"

With a genuine openness he requests, "If you could share your stories with us it will help us bond and learn how we can work together, as well as pass the long hours of road travel."

Quote from: Justin Alexander;604058OOC: That's my plan. Little bit delayed at the moment because I've run into some headaches installing new hard drives in my computer. Late this evening at the latest, though, we'll be re-framing to sequence 3 unless something goes seriously awry.

OOC: Okay. I'm wrapping up my computer-induced headaches now, but it's 3:30 AM my time. So "late this evening at the latest" has, regrettably, become "tomorrow".

Sorry, folks!

Quote from: Opaopajr;604347"If you had to say which of you two were the more experienced battle veteran, who would it be? And what talents do you feel you bring to our part of the group?"

With a genuine openness he requests, "If you could share your stories with us it will help us bond and learn how we can work together, as well as pass the long hours of road travel."

Aminda seated upon her donkey, Ol' Frisky, cranes her neck around towards Cudberct. "Battle veteran? M'lady is a noble of Wyverntongue and a trained warrior. I am just an old nanny and a midwife. We left home many years ago and when it comes to battle m'lady is much more experienced than I.

I doubt an old lady like me would have any interesting stories for you. I merely tend the camp and patch up the wounded their return. I doubt you'd be very interested in hearing how I prepare her meals. I'm not even a very good cook. Now back home we had such fine foods..." she continues rambling on about different dishes served at the feasts at the Wyverntongue's ancestral home as she and the caravan ride out of town.

Nodding while serious, Cudberct wears his listening face and punctuates a pause here or there with a "Mmhmm?," or "Hmm." Letting Aminda enjoy a rambling reminisce for awhile, Cudberct interrupts before she gets too lost, "Wow, what a time it must have been back home. Maybe you and Certh should work together and see if you can recreate a memorable dish or two."

Changing the subject, "But to go back to your experience in the field, if I may, was your camp ever attacked? I've heard the rules of nobility in other lands kept the fighting away from non-combatants, like encampments and nearby farmers. Unfortunately it's not a thing I'm too familiar with from my homeland; we went through some unpleasant times some years ago." Drawing this last bit into silence his eyes start to slip into staring off in space.

Shaking his head after an uncomfortable silence, he continues while looking away, "Sorry, a not-as-pleasant memory of home." Scratches his head, "Well, it's good to know with you and bright Hasor here we have learned hands to care for us in case we come to harm. But I'm also glad I brought a tower shield now." Looking brighter he beams to the group, "With cart and tower shield we can make nice barriers in case our camp's ever attacked. Keep these two safe in battle guys, they're our safeguard from lasting harm!"

"And how about you Gileus? You seem well armed. I expect you know more than a thing or two about those weapons. Probably can teach these guys a thing or two." now jerking his smiling head back teasingly to the rest of the militia crew, " That is if these guys ever shaped up and tried to pay attention to orders... Nah, I kid. They're good, they do OK."

Quote from: Opaopajr;604347"If you had to say which of you two were the more experienced battle veteran, who would it be? And what talents do you feel you bring to our part of the group?"

With a genuine openness he requests, "If you could share your stories with us it will help us bond and learn how we can work together, as well as pass the long hours of road travel."

"Battle veteran?  Oh, not I.  I'm more of a scholar than a warrior.  Of course, I have studied Dobringer's manual of the sword extensively, so I have some skill with a rapier.  As for stories, I'm afraid there are none of mine that you would find exciting.  It's not like I've fought the troll kings of Aginbarr or anything!  Although it's interesting; troll king is sort of a misnomer.  They don't inherit the title, rather gain it through combat prowess.  And they rule their land collectively, rather than partition it amongst themselves, so council of warriors might be a better title.  Of course..."  Gileus continues on the fascinating topic of troll society and history for as long as anyone's willing to listen.

OOC:  Hope it's ok if I make up little details like this.

SEQUENCE 3A: ON THE ROAD TO PARLEY
"The top of the gully is a sizable copse of trees, it might hide a wagon. I had the sense that our dear friend Cudberct had a mind to drive that damned wagon of his into the middle of the damned goblin camp, though." Winthrop is startled by the heat in his own words. Maybe the bickering of the morning had affected him more than he thought.

His attention -- and the attentions of the others -- are suddenly arrested, however, as the road turns southwest around a hill. Just beyond this bending, the road passes through the dragon circle surrounding Oakhurst. The horses carry them almost directly under one of the tall, imposing sarsens of gray-black rock that stand at least twice as tall as a man, each twisted into a half-turn as if the hard stone were only soft clay. These here are badly worn and weathered with age, but many of you have seen prouder specimens on which the draconic runes of an elder age can still be seen.

As the stone falls behind them, Winthrop surprisingly swings off his mount. "I don't suppose one of you would mind keeping an eye on Barnaby for a while? Don't worry, he'll follow you without much fuss, although I can't guarantee he won't bite. I have a mind to stretch my legs and maybe look for tracks our quarry might have left behind."

Haddon volunteers to watch Barnaby. The party has begun fragmenting alarmingly, but it seems Winthrop wishes some time to calm himself after the morning's unpleasantness. Haddon would frankly feeling hypocritical trying to stop him.

Sensing Haddon's unease, however, Winthrop smiles reassuringly as he swings down from Barnaby's saddle. "Don't worry, I won't go far." Winthrop proceeds to trot alongside the horses at a surprisingly quick pace, the rise and falls of the hills not bothering his experienced legs one bit as he ranges out at a distance of a hundred feet or so, occasionally stretching the distance to more despite the fast pace set by the riders.

As he travels, he watches for the tracks of the doomed expedition. Given the passage of time, he isn't expecting much and spends much of his time listening to Lady Jastian -- slowly sobering as the heat of the summer sun bakes away her hangover -- instructing the others in a sundry variety of matters: The shifting of bridle straps, the proper stowing of weapons, the tightening of armor rivets.

ROLL 4 + DIPLOMACY 21 = 25

It seems that whatever hurt feelings may have been formed on the green, Lady Jastian is successfully smoothing them away with each mile of road passed.

ROLL 15 + SURVIVAL 13 = 28

But around mid-morning, after clearing the immediate traffic of the farms near Oakhurst, Winthrop is suddenly gladdened: It quickly becomes clear that the further reaches of the Old Road are seldom, if ever used. Shortly thereafter, he picks up clear signs of a party of four riding horseback. It's not long before he's identified the distinctive notch in the edge of one of the horses' shoes. And given the regularity with which he's finding signs, he's fairly confident that he'll know if the previous party turned aside from the road.

But the rest of the morning passes with the trail staying true to the road. And, after a brief halting for lunch, that remains true through much of the early afternoon. As the sun begins westering, Winthrop puts on a burst of speed and is soon out of sight from the others. But after only a few minutes he returns.

"If we want to take the gulch, we'll turn aside before entering the treeline ahead and circle the forest line to the canyon. But the trail of Sir Braford and the rest continues down the road straight towards the broken bridge."


OOC: I didn't apply the -5 penalty for normal movement to Winthrop's Survival check for tracking because the encumbered horses are only slightly faster than you are when you're moving half speed.

OOC 2: I'll pick up with the cart group once this navigational choice is made by the parley group and the manifest is squared away.

Quote from: Tom;604490OOC:  Hope it's ok if I make up little details like this.

Go for it!

Winthrop looks at his companions. "It seems we have a choice to make. I had not expected to find these tracks, but now that I have, it seems foolish to travel on without at least determining our quarry's route. It might be worth a few hours time to simply follow them to the canyon before turning back to find the gully."

"Alternatively, I suppose Haddon could take his hound and that keen nose of his  to check on the tracks, while I lead the rest of you to the gully.  I'm not fond of the idea of splitting up, though."

"In fact, it may be best to delay first contact with this region's denizens until tomorrow anyways, as they are devils in the night.  I'd rather have the sun up when we treat with them. Taking a detour down the road might not be wasted time at all."

Cudberct looks glassy-eyed at Gileus while politely listening. He's clearly overwhelmed. He desperately tries to follow, but at some point gives up and smiles and nod in an effort to be friendly. As Gileus winds down, Cudberct looks desperately around to see who will rescue the conversation after that lecture.

(Gotta say something polite, gotta say something polite. Oh I wish Ermengilda was here, she'd know what to say! OK, give a compliment and refer Gileus to a like mind who can handle such big ideas. If we have everyone get to know each other, things will work out! Uh... compliment!)

"Wow, you sure are troll smart! I mean, uh, you know lots about those troll monsters. All I know is how to kill them when they try to hurt us." Smiles like he got the best idea ever!, "You should talk to Hasor! He's a really bright kid and he wants to know so much about the world outside Oakhurst." Leans on his horse to yell at Hasor on the other side of the cart, "Hey Hasor, get over here! You should talk to this Gileus fellow. He knows stuff like books and monsters and politics and stuff!"

Cudberct slows Buñuelo to ride parallel with the cart and nearest Maggie/Mika on the spare Warhorse. Hopefully Hasor and Certh will take the social hint to strike up a conversation with both Gileus and Aminda each. They seem like they have things in common. That and Cudberct needs to bring Maggie and Mika abreast of what's going on and then find out how they are doing.

Winthrop looks at his companions. "It seems we have a choice to make. I had not expected to find these tracks, but now that I have, it seems foolish to travel on without at least determining our quarry's route. It might be worth a few hours time to simply follow them to the canyon before turning back to find the gully."

"Alternatively, I suppose Haddon could take his hound and that keen nose of his  to check on the tracks, while I lead the rest of you to the gully.  I'm not fond of the idea of splitting up, though."

"In fact, it may be best to delay first contact with this region's denizens until tomorrow anyways, as they are devils in the night.  I'd rather have the sun up when we treat with them. Taking a detour down the road might not be wasted time at all."
"A few hours to discover their route now instead of a day or more wandering around the ravine trying to see where they went seems like a good use of time." Llewellyn offers, after taking a moment to think.  "If the tracks take us to the gulch, so much the better.  Otherwise, we will have to camp near the opening until the others arrive and make a decision."

Hasor was already listening intently to Gileus' story, and welcomes the opportunity to ride closer.

"I've always been fascinated by the world outside our little town. Life here is so isolated from everywhere else, it can be awfully stifling. That's why I'm trying to save up my wages, so that I can travel the lands and see what's really out there."

A wistful look passes over Hasor's face as he imagines all of the variety and color he knows must be out there.

"Of course, until then, I must quench my thirst with the tales the traders bring through, and those within Winthrop's books. I'd truly like to hear about all of the fantastical sights you've witnessed traveling with the Lady. Why do the trolls value strength over everything else? Surely they've seen what power the magical arts have... I can't believe they'd ignore them entirely..."

As the miles passed toward their objective, Lady Jastian grew more comfortable with her companions of the road.  She shared unlikely yarns of past adventures, her exaggerated tales making desperate struggles sound like youthful hijinks.  Still, the others could sense the noblewoman’s concern.  Her gaze remained alert and wary, even as she described an amusing encounter with a belligerent gnoll piemaker bent on adding human flesh to its dishes.  

 “I am but a newborn babe in these wilderlands,” (1) said Lady Jastian when Winthrop’s scouting brought him nearby. “’Tis like that I would soon lose all direction without your wise counsel.  Within moments of leaving the road, I would be sore bewildered, wandering lost and feckless until I emerged among the trackless wastes of the great desert.  Doubtless, devil-sent visions would haunt me among the sands, illusory taverners offering cool cups of pyment and minted sekanjabin.”

Between colorful anecdotes, Jastian asked her guides about the plants and game beasts of the region, even teasing a bit of information from the ordinarily-reticent Winthrop.  She shared what she had learned from previous battles against goblins (2), but had to admit that what she knew of the creatures' habits and culture came largely from the dusty histories in her father’s library and the chronicles of ancient warriors that she had eagerly devoured as a young girl.  The elvish tutor who had taught Jastian the goblins' language bore a nigh-superstitious fear of the things, merely reiterating the same midnight legends of night-skulking thieves that her father's retainers had already related. (3)  

ROLLS:

1.) ROLL 6 + (UNTRAINED) SURVIVAL -1 = 5
       (Yep, she has no clue in the wilderness…)

2.) ROLL 12 + (UNTRAINED) KNOWLEDGE (LOCAL) +2 = 14
       (Untrained: She only knows DC 10 knowledge about goblins.)

3.) ROLL 15 + KNOWLEDGE (HISTORY) +7 = 22
       (Jastain knows a great deal of historical trivia, such as the reasons for the bloody goblin revolt against Duke Launam 140 years ago, along with the infamous atrocities of hobgoblin warlord Rentanger and his shadow goblin troops.  It remains to be seen whether she knows anything relevant to the adventure…)

@Winthrop: "I hesitate to strike out on our own. Having found the tracks thanks to your expertise, it seems to me that following them is only relevant so as to find where they leave the road."

@Llewellyn: "Your analysis is sound to my ears, Sergeant. I think the additional hours well worth our time."

“Should we grow overeager to discover poor Sir Braford’s fate, we risk meeting it ourselves!  While lost the knight’s trail may lead us to find his party, ‘tis a more wary course to merely extrapolate the lost band’s route.   Let us dismount and lead our steeds.  We may then travel parallel along the path, using what cover we may find to hide our movements.  Thus we may discover any ambush or hidden snare that awaits travelers, yet not ourselves stumble upon such a hazard.”

Looking around, she asked "What think you of this stratagem?"

Winthrop shakes his head. "I don't see what good that would do. To the denizens of the wilderness, two men in armor with great warhorses stumbling through the underbrush is no more hidden than a company riding straight down the road. Besides, the goblins haunt the bottom of the gorge and the far side, not this side. And delaying too long might bring nightfall on us before we reach the cliff."

"I say we ride as a group to the end of this road, and see what the tracks say.  Then if the trail is lost, withdraw to here and camp for the night before trying the gully tomorrow."

Winthrop's argument carried little weight with the Lady.  "Winthrop, you assume too much.  'Tis known that the goblins keep to the depths and the far side of the gorge, but what cause have they?  Other, more puissant threats may bide nearby, ones of which we remain unaware.  Secondly, I know nothing of these goblins' leaders, but were I on their throne, I surely would secret away picquets on this side of the gorge, on watch for further sallies from the townsfolk or their allies.

"Also, whilst goblin-kin may lack the devil-spawned trapmasters of the kobolds, snares, javelin-launchers, and pits are not unknown to them.  Where else would they place such devices, if not on the road?  Where better to lay an ambush, if not that broad path?   Were I their leader, I would have larded the approaches to my domain with hidden bolt-holes and ambush points, nigh invisible to those approaching them.

"Finally, you have the advantage of seeing us as we are:  Few in number and ill-prepared to give chase through the trees and brambles of the wild.  The denizens of this place have not yet seen our approach:  they lack such sure knowledge.  Instead of seeing a tiny band arrogantly plunging into their territory, they would instead hear the movement of brush and the rattle of arms.  Our numbers and weaponry would remain a mystery until they close nigh unto weapons' reach, where they may be forced to offer battle, if such proves needful."

Gileus gives a small chuckle towards Cudberct.  "Sorry about that, I do tend to get carried away sometimes..."

He then turns toward Hasor.  "And I wouldn't say the troll kings completely ignore the arcane arts.  And, of course, they're not representative of all trolls.  Surely you've heard the legend of Asguala and her undead army?  No?  Well, she was a powerful troll sorceress who might have conquered the lands west of the Tildall mountains, had it not been for the valor of a small band of heroes..."  He goes on to tell the complete story, along with remarks on which parts are known to be historical fact and which parts are likely fictional.

Winthrop shrugs. "You are the leader, milady. It will be as you say. But if you don't want to be trapped in the woods at night, we should proceed with haste."

Taking Barnaby's lead he pushes into the undergrowth, experienced eyes scanning to pick out easy trails. He catches Haddon's eye and shakes his head slightly. City Folk.

OOC: I assume this will add to our travel time significantly. Is there any chance of getting back out of the woods before dusk? When would we arrive at the point the road meets the gorge?

"If you think it best, we can keep to rough ground. We must be sure not to take overlong, however. The goal of this group going ahead of the others was to find what trace we could of the young Hucreles. Thus far, we have discovered only that they traveled this road, which is not at all unexpected."

"I would prefer not to spend the next day picking our way through the woods to travel a mile up the road, and I would prefer to know what approaches from the road while we travel.  A surprise from the road is no different than a surprise from the woods, except that we would have more room to manoeuvre on the path... " staring up the road, Llewellyn continues, "besides, we have their trail for now with the tracks on the road.  I trust Winthrop isn't misreading those, so until we arrive at the gulch or the daylight fails us, following their trail is the best plan for finding them."

Lady Jastian considered the road ahead, then turned back to Sergeant Llewellyn.  "Since we lack accord in this regard, I shall not argue further.  In any hap, 'tis unlikely that an ambush would get the better of us.  Let us forge forward along the road in concord!  Sergeant, I place my trust in your alert senses and Winthrop's keen eyes."

Uncorking a flask of wine from her saddlebag, she poured a small amount out as an offering to whatever local spirits ruled here, then offered some to the others.

Winthrop sighs, and trudges back to the road. He happily accepts a swig from Jastian's flask, then calls out "onward" and proceeds down the road, shooting a glance of gratitude at Haddon and Llewellyn as he does.

Re-emerging from the tree line, Winthrop gives a shrug and heads down the road, rapidly out-pacing the horses even as they come freshly back up to a gallop.

WINTHROP ROLL 4 + SURVIVAL 13 = 17
ASHUR ROLL 14 + SURVIVAL 12 - 5 = 21

About a mile further down the road, however, Ashur comes up short and begins to whine -- his nose held to the scent of some track. Haddon swings down off his mount and Winthrop falls back to join him.

What they find is a strange track crossing the road from one side to the other. Small, hard impressions in irregular groupings. Almost as if someone were wearing tiny slippers made from bound twigs or sticks.

Ashur was still whining.

"What is it?" Haddon asks him with a low growl.

*It smells like a moving tree. So unnatural it stings the snout.*

OOC: Quick discussion/decision here. Then we can hopefully get the cart/wagon out of Oakhurst and move both forks forwards.

Haddon is at a loss to imagine what manner of creature could be so described. Fortunately there is someone at hand greater in both imagination and knowledge.

"Sir Winthrop, these tracks appear to Ashur's nose to be those of a tree-beast, one whose unnaturalness is painfully obvious. What such creatures stalk this area? Should we be concerned?"

@Ashur: <>

Ashur snuffles around the road a bit. *Two days olds.*

HADDON ROLL 4 + SURVIVAL 4 = 8

OOC: Sure, that sounds plausible. ;)

Winthrop pulls up short at the sight of the wolf sniffing around anxiously.  "So it seems your friend is a better tracker than me, is he?" he says, jokingly, but he keeps his voice low so as not to carry, aware that tracks could mean enemies.  He listens to Haddon's description, and his brow wrinkles in thought.  He contemplates past adventures, trying to think of creatures that would fit the pattern.  At the same time he looks for signs that the rider's tracks diverted along with those of the creature.

OOC: Can I make a knowledge (nature, maybe?) check to identify the creature from the scent description?  I'm really at a loss myself, outside of a treant, but I'm not super familiar with plant monsters.  Also, I'm not sure if I lost the track of the riders earlier, and if so if I can make a reroll, or if your description states the riders continued down the road.

"Aha!" Winthrop shouts, before realizing that danger still exists, and lowering his voice once more. "Years ago, before man settled in this valley, these woods and hills were ruled by great tree-men called Ents, and their children, the impish and wild entlings, made tracks such as these.  I've heard that even an Entling stood ten foot tall and had the strength of a raging Manticore, and their parents threatened even the dragons of the air.  Why, when Sir Kensington and the Laughing Monk first came to this valley in exploration they..."

He trails off, realizing that the middle of a road where such fearsome creatures so recently passed is perhaps not the best place for one of his outlandish stories.  "Ahem.  It seems they have returned to this land.  What portents this bodes, I cannot say.  If they passed two days ago, they are surely no threat to us now, but they may have interfered with the previous party.  What say you?  Investigate these creatures, or press on to the gorge?"

OOC: Bad rolls are way more fun to roleplay than good ones.

Aminda hangs her head an places her face in her hands, "You have a wagon?" she sighs heavily, taking a moment and then looks up appearing more composed. She strides over to Hasor pulling a rod from her sleeve.

"Take this. It can summon an unseen servant to aid you. Perhaps it can help you hitch up the wagon faster. If not just have it help with the loading and unloading." she speaks louder so everyone can hear "Anyone else who is good with animals help with hitching the wagon, unhitching the cart or stabling the donkeys. Everyone else let's start moving the supplies."

OOC: I was hesitant to post anything. Everything else I've done to try to move things along has backfired. I apologize for that and hope y'all don't hate me.

Lady Jastian smiled at the suggestion. "But a short while agone, you counselled we needs must keep to the road, yet now you would have us venture amid the trees in search of tree-entings and their sires?  'Tis certain that MY stomach for adventure seeks not so large a feast."

Dismounting from Paladin, she walked over to examine the trail that Haddon's wolf had discovered. (1) "These footprints seem a trifle... tiny for the behemoths you described.  Of course, it may hap that the forest spirits of your land are not so robust as the creatures of which I've heard.

"In any case, I know little of the spirits inhabiting these wilds, but should the creatures prove shy of us, it may hap that such searches squander precious hours.  'Tis wiser to stay our course, keeping to Sir Breford's trail while it may yet be deciphered."  

Rolls:

1.) ROLL 17 + SPOT +9 = 26 (When shown the track, she notices that it resembled the tracks of someone "wearing tiny slippers made from bound twigs or sticks"  Assuming a DC of 10 or lower, Survival could work as well. )

"Before, you advocated running off into the woods for no good reason.  Now we have tracks, and if these ents dragged off our frends before they even got to the valley, it may be best to go after them.  Haddon, can your pup tell if our quarry's scent left the road here or continues further toward the gorge?"

OOC: Sir Wulf... are you rolling and adjudicating the results of the rolls for yourself?  I didn't think that was how it worked.  Or does Justin have the ability to edit our posts?

Looking at how the gathered supplies fill the cart to bursting, Hasor scratches his head for a moment. Calculating weights and measures has never been his strong suit: since he can manage so much less than most, he tends to overestimate appropriate loads.

"Of course, miss Scroppings. I must admit... I don't have much familiarity with that spell. Perhaps you could give me a few pointers to get the phantasm started? Mika, Maggie, let's get the wagon hooked up and out here first, then we can just transfer the goods over and move the cart back inside."

OOC: Fenyx, I'm all for just getting us moving again too. I'd rather be in the gorge than still in town, and I think we're probably all set with the supplies now too. Onward ho!

"If they passed two days ago, they are surely no threat to us now, but they may have interfered with the previous party.  What say you?  Investigate these creatures, or press on to the gorge?"
"Nay, the previous party passed here nigh on two weeks ago, what made these tracks have aught to do with them, I should think."  Considering the new information carefully, Llewellyn arrives at a possible conclusion, "I daresay these tracks are less likely the return of legendary Tree-Men, and more the cunning of a goblin raiding party concealing their number or their intent.  If the tracks cross the path and continue to the woods, I suspect they may have their own gorge secreted away from the eyes of men.  Mark this place, we may have need to return if our other searches come to naught."

Haddon is not especially reassured by the sentiments. "Neither tree-men nor goblin trickery should be so unnatural that their scents would burn Ashur's nose..."

He hesitates briefly.

"...But then, hunting down twig-shod aberrations is not our goal. I agree, we should press onward. Still, I am concerned that some... some strange force is coming from the wastelands, and... well, I suppose there is nothing for it but to be wary." Haddon falls silent, noticeably sharing Ashur's unease.

Quote from: Josh;606625"Before, you advocated running off into the woods for no good reason.  Now we have tracks, and if these ents dragged off our frends before they even got to the valley, it may be best to go after them.  Haddon, can your pup tell if our quarry's scent left the road here or continues further toward the gorge?"

OOC: To clarify, the tracks you were following still continue down the road. These other tracks are considerably more recent. I'll be back shortly to push both parties further down the road.

SEQUENCE 3B: THE SUPPLY CARAVAN

HASOR ROLL 9 + HANDLE ANIMAL 4 = 13
MIKA ROLL 7 + STRENGTH 3 = 10
MAGGIE ROLL 11 + STRENGTH 0 = 11
HASOR'S CHECK + AID ANOTHER 4 + UNSEEN SERVANT 2 = 19

With Hasor, Mika, and Maggie all working as hard as they can -- and Aminda's poltergeist leaving a faint scent of sulfur in the air as it floats barrels and bags and chests through the air -- it takes the better part of an hour to ready the wagon and transfer everything to it from cart and store. By the time all is made ready, the sun has gained two handsbreadths of sky.

The supply caravan winds its way out of town: Cudberct riding Buñuelo, Certh and Gileus on steeds belonging to the innkeep, Hasor upon Notor, and the others -- Mika, Maggie, and Aminda -- riding in the wagon.

With the work of loading done, a lingering, sullen silence pervades the proceedings for a good many miles. But the wagon is making good time -- faster than they had expected with cart or donkey -- and the mood slowly begins to lighten. A fairly cheerful lunch is held upon fields of rolling green.

A few hours later, the wagon rumbles beneath the boughs of a thick, green-frilled forest, bringing welcome release from the heat of the afternoon sun. But the rare-used road grows rougher, too, and the ride in the wagon grows bumpy and rough.

Mike, on the reins of the wagon, having spent most of the afternoon humming cheerfully breaks out into a round of raucous song. Maggie, knowing the tune, joins him joyfully.

OOC: Feel free to fill the ride, lunch, or anything else with whatever conversation you like.

OOC: I'm going to go with this color for my posts concerning sequence 3B in the hope that it will add a little clarity about which group I'm talking about.

SEQUENCE 4A: AT THE RAVINE

With a few wary glances into the tree line where the strange tracks disappear, the group rides on down the road. Another mile or so carries them back out of the small forest, and then it's only a matter of a few hills before they can look down to where the road ends at the broken bridge.

The ravine is like a gash in the surface of the earth running off to the southeast and growing gradually wider to the northwest. Where the road ends, you can see several broken pillars of stone jutting up from the earth. Two of these pillars stand straight, but many of them lean against the sloped earth.

One similar pillar can be seen standing at an awkward, twisted angle on the opposite side of the ravine. But all the land upon that side of the ravine is a featureless and ashen gray. There are a few gently sloping hills, but nothing green or growing can be seen as far as the horizon.

OOC: I'll let the parley group control their approach to the a ravine / broken bridge.

OOC: Oh gawd no! You bought new light horses and hitched the wagon to them instead of my light warhorses! Dear gawd, why? A warhorse doesn't spook so easily in battle -- that's their point to a wagon! It's also why donkeys are so useful! ... *sigh* and it looks like I have more light horses for my stable.
:(

At lunch Cudberct immediately starts to usher his light warhorses to swap places in pulling the wagon load. "Sorry to remove the fun from you, Certh and Gileus, but it's better the less skittish horses pull the wagon in case of combat." *spits, as if to ward off misfortune* "We're bringing so much, and lives depend on us, we cannot suffer a tragedy like an upturned wagon lost of supplies."

"Thankfully my military saddles will help keep a rider on during distress. It'll help keep you atop in case these new animals spook." Cudberct returns focus to finishing the re-saddling of the new light horses with military saddles.

"There. Now I have a very important question for you both, Gileus and Certh. Which of you is the less experienced horse rider? I'm willing to let one of you ride Buñuelo so as to keep you from coming to harm. He's seen his share of scary situations, so I trust he won't rear or buck dangerously," smiles proudly to his mount. "I'll ride one of the new horses as it is my responsibility to not endanger my guests or staff."

OOC: Still during lunch, but after reassigning the mounts and getting the answer of who's the better rider from Certh or Gileus...

"I know I can be a tiresome worrywart on an adventure. But it's because I care and feel you are all my responsibility. I'd much rather you be frustrated with me now and stay alive than..." looks away without finishing.

"Maybe it's how I came to understand that my sergeant back in Garland Emerald wasn't just being a merciless hard-ass for the fun of it. We left our training wanting to smack him down right there -- and then kick enemy ass. But his routines broke us down into instant reactions which ended up saving our lives."

Looks up with a wan smile, "I never got to say 'thank you, I got why you trained us how you did'. The closest was buying him a few drinks followed by nice silences once us green recruits met him again after a few battles under our belt. And yet, I think by then he already knew the whole of what we wanted to say.

"Bah! A glum mood holds the food down bad! And those who fight first march on their stomachs. Give me farm gossip, Mika and Maggie. Talk to me big dreams, Hasor and Certh. Tell me tales from afar and ago, Aminda and Gileus. Let's have cheer with our lunch!"

OOC: Gileus is the slightly better rider, so I guess Certh can have Buñuelo.

Gileus's mood has improved somewhat.  Whatever difficulties there were deciding the supplies this morning seemed to have been resolved, and it feels good to be on the road instead of waiting around.  And after a good lunch, he begins to relax, listening to Mika and Maggie's song as they travel down the road.

Suddenly though, he stops, pointing towards the trees.  "Do you see that?  Several creatures, some up in the trees."  His hand moves to his pack, ready to grab his crossbow.

Surveying the gorge, Winthrop scans for any signs of movement, or indications of the fate of the previous group, without approaching too close.  Assuming he sees no immediate threats he turns to his companions.

"What say I slip a little closer to the edge of the ravine.  I can see if ropes or bodies or goblin encampments lay on the other side.  But if I shout, come with the might of the gods behind you - ware the edge, though!"

Assuming the others consent to him scouting, Winthrop will move toward the edge with all possible stealth and silence, actively looking for tracks, ropes, or danger.  If all clear, he will wave the others forward.

Quote from: Tom;606934Suddenly though, he stops, pointing towards the trees.  "Do you see that?  Several creatures, some up in the trees."  His hand moves to his pack, ready to grab his crossbow.

At Gileus' warning Aminda reaches over and pulls the healing wand from where it was stowed...

OOC: Justin, assuming we're about to enter combat thought you should know Aminda's general strategy. Try to keep people between her and danger. If the enemy is focusing on her or is about to attack her cast Sanctuary (it only lasts one round at this point so it isn't too useful). Most importantly try to keep people healed. Start with spells (only use Cure Minor Wounds if, well, if it makes sense to only heal one hit point) and then feel free to use the wand.

"I see them too, Gileus. I can't tell how many, but there are some on the ground as well as in the branches. They seem to be moving as a group too, and that implies that they're organized."

Hasor double checks that his sling and stones are within easy reach.

"Are these goblins known for being able to swing between branches easily? It could be a scouting party, or perhaps just some animals. Either way, we should prepare ourselves in case they prove to be violent."

"Are you sure they aren't a rafter of turkeys or conspiracy of ravens?" Cudberct asks obliviously. "Patita doesn't seem to be growling, and Certh seems to be heading straight, thus Buñuelo doesn't seem scared. Whatever it is doesn't seem to be much of a threat. Yet." Looks around obviously not seeing what others are seeing.

"Why don't you call out to it to see if it wants to talk?" he says smiling. "If you want I could yell for you. I have a decent set of lungs on me." Still scans about fruitlessly, but smiling all the same.

Resting her polearm across the saddlebow, Jastian drew a slender wand from within a scabbard in her greave.  She kept her voice low as she spoke with the others.  "I have little talent for magic, but this tool allows its wielder to conjure phantom visions.  If you hear me call out the wand's word of command, have no fear of any odd images that may afterward appear."

Nudging Paladin forward with a gentle touch of her heel, Jastian carefully scanned the terrain ahead of her slowly plodding mount.  If Winthrop found himself beset, she wanted to respond swiftly.  

OOC: She'll try to keep Paladin quiet as she advances, following 90 to 100 feet behind Winthrop, but keeping him in sight as much as the terrain allows.

Paladin the Warhorse slowly clomped forward, alert for the possibility that his rider would finish whatever it was she wanted and head back to town.  While he enjoyed a pleasant ride as much as the next horse, the Lady's apparent obsession with these long journeys grew very tiresome.  They had passed a particularly enticing patch of grass earlier, but she hadn't let him even sample a bit.

Life would be so much simpler if a horse didn't have to put up with the perverse vagaries of their rider.

OOC:  Paladin may be my Rufferto...