"Sounds good your worshipfullness .... thank you your worshipfullness."
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Arlok spends moments drinking in all that is happening the map and the questions being asked. He then approaches the devil.
"So your a Komm? Arlok know you are devil and you call Baalzebul master. Arlok like you. Arlok not devil but son of Ballzebul. Imp tell Arlok to come meet Komm. Baalzebul say Arlok destined. Arlok weapon against goat demon. Arlok will follow Komm as Komm is a servant of father. When Arlok find tunnel and kill guard things, how far do Arlok go in tunnel? Komm just want know tunnel is there and connect to goat head dungeon? Arlok will clean tunnel for Komm. Would Komm like to come see when tunnel is clear? Komm can move places at will right? Does Komm have way for Arlok to let him know way is clear, or should Arlok clear tunnel and come back. Does Komm have drink to share with Arlok? Imp stopped Arlok from drinking. Arlok drink with friends. Arlok now friends with Komm."
He slaps the devil on the should and smiles at him.
"I care nothing what you do to those bandits. Just stay alive. Your purpose here is not to exterminate them but to remove them as a threat. " Komm replies to the duergar. "Perhaps they can be...reasoned with?"
Komm looks over each of you closely, a small smile playing on his face. "A leader? You wish me to pick a leader. In my experience, leaders don't need to be picked. Leaders will show to others they ARE leaders!"
As the half-ogre approaches the devil, there is a blinding flash of light and the smell of brimstone fills the office before Arlok can touch him. As you look around you see Komm on the other side of the office. Then a voice echoes in Arlok's mind.
"Careful, son of Balzebuul. Your lineage does not impress me as you may like. You must earn my respect first...and you KNOW how to do that!"
"Hahaha... Komm funny. Arlok not care about whatever that "L" word you say in Arlok's brain. Arlok care about being strong. Komm will be Arlok's friend. Komm will see. You not tell Arlok if he come back or contact you. So Arlok come back when way is clear."
He shoots the devil a smile.
"Arlok ready to go. Will do what Komm wants so Komm have a drink with Arlok. All you ready?"
Hearing that Komm has no plans on appointing a leader, Raaz Al'Zuul starts moving out with a perplexed expression on his face:
This is strange... How are we going to coordinate our actions without a leader to make sure we are not working in cross purposes.
He will walk back towards Korrigan's Bar and asks a barmaid for a quiet place for the team to meet and discuss. Once everyone gathers he will start by sharing,
"The Mission is clear although somewhat ambiguous on scope and direct objectives. It seems our first task is to get to the Mouth of Doom attracting the least amount of attention. Commander Komm suggested we take the Coast Road north and then head west through the forest. Do any of you have knowledge of this area and can be our guide?"
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Once back at the tavern, Varg listens to Raaz and shakes his head:
I come from south. Never travel road north. We do need one skilled in wild as a guide.
He then looks about the group.
Many different types make this group. A giant. Two goblins. A dragon? A shadow man? An orc. One with devil blood. And a dwarf.
He pauses and takes a drink of the ale, finding he rather enjoys it, and not being use to such loquaciousness:
But, what can you do? I fight with fists and can wrestle. One time a day, I can disappear and grow big. He looks over at Arlok. Much bigger than the giant. He takes another drink of his ale. But only for a short time.
With that, and still standing and looking more and more like a statue than a living person, he looks about the gathered group awaiting, and expecting, answers from the others.
Chugs bows deeply to the devil, then scurries out of the room as fast as he can without seeming rude. Oh dear gods I need a drink. He rushes back to the bar, and orders another cup of mead before joining the others.
Chugs takes a deep drink before speaking to Razz. "I'm afraid, good sir, that I too come from a more southern location. This is the farthest North I've ever been."
He then turns to the dwarf, and takes another swig of watery mead. "Well, I may not be able to do much of anything physical, but if things turn out well I may very well not have to. My specialties lie in magic, particularly of the defensive type, and I can ward myself and others from harm."
With the others taking leave of the devil, Keil's blackened teeth peer through the curl of his lips as he smiles mischievously. Bowing his head enough for the brim of his hat to obscure his face, the fetchling unfolds his arms and departs the chamber.
Following the group back to Korrigan's bar, Keil lags behind as he wonders how long Raaz and Varg intend to discuss matters. Clearly Komm is an impatient sort, The sooner we get started, the better.
Keil does not sit, but stands with his arms folded as he listens to the discussion. The sun has probably set by now... The fetchling shuts his eyes and he breaks his silence with a sigh. His raspy voice interrupts, One's skills are best revealed when called for. But if it is a scout you require, that one looks the type. Keil points a gloved hand to the goblin named Brok, Unless I am mistaken, his garb suggests comfort with the outdoors. My skills are similar, but they excel in shadow. While I can assist, time is wasting. And I think I am not alone in my preference for working in the dark. I suggest we take the shortest route to Zelkor's Ferry; crossing the Wild Edge River someplace other than the bridge if possible. It is likely a favorite spot for an ambush.
Brok looks at the odd being with the rough voice in the hat and thinks "really? This guy is volunteering me to go first? This worse than being back at the tribe...."
He grimmaces (but can you tell? Goblin facial expressions are a science all their own)
"I can scout the way. I'm better underground and in the dark, but i'll make do in the woods." he says to the group.
"Are the rest of you comfortable traveling by night? There's probably less chance of trouble in the darkness."
"I agree that this bridge is probably watched or guarded, but I'd rather take my chances sneaking across there instead of swimming a big river filled with fish monsters."
"I come from the northern fjordlands. I know little about this area. I defer to the expertise of our scouts. What I bring is divine guidence, and the tongue of a diplomat. However, I am, after all, an Orc, so if need be I can also crack skulls just fine."
"I am ready to go then. We follow Brok as our guide. I am fine with traveling at night. Anyone needs supplies?"
Raaz Al'Zuul gets up and collects a large backpack from the Dorm. He waits for the rest to get ready and checks his gear and weapons.
Now that the group looks to be moving out, Keil approaches the goblin Brok and in the same raspy voice switches to common, Underground huh. The shadowy man's breath is foul and the goblin can see his face is covered in charcoal grit, No matter. Stay close and we'll combine our talents this night.
Turning to Varg and Arlok, the hilts of several weapons flash as the fetchling adjusts two black straps to a backpack tucked under his cloak. Evidently, the shadowy figure does not trust leaving his belongings unattended. Switching back to infernal Keil asks, What say you, bridge or river?
"We can all see in the dark. Night makes clearest sense."
"The bridge may be patrolled, which would be a fine way of testing our mettle as a group."
"Arlok think plan sound good. Arlok not worry about ambush, Arlok kill any that ambush. Arlok ready to go."
You too? Hmph, bridge it is.
Not bothering to wait for someone to say "go", Keil leaves Korrigan's and makes for the surface. Once outside, the fetchling moves as silently as he can without holding up the group too much.
Raaz Al'Zuul will stay alert at the back of the group.
No.
After gathering up your supplies, you head out of Mitchrod as the sun sinks into the western sky. Making your way northeast towards the road you pass through several copses of trees and scrub grass, dotted with some rolling hills. You realize this part of the area is not all that suitable for farming as there are only a few farmsteads dotted along the Coast Road.
It is pushing midnight before you finally reach the road where the pace of your travels pick up. Electing to stay just off the main road you travel silently knowing while the occasional merchant caravan and bandit would be hunkered down at this time, there are others dangers lurking which are nocturnal like yourselves.
You manage to reach the Wild edge river and the bridge crossing it just as dawn starts to break. So far your journey has been uneventful.
Brok is more than a little concerned about wandering about on the surface as he's really got no experience with it. He doesn't want to show it in front of the others though.
"What was it they used to talk about in those stories about the surface ?" he thinks to himself. "Something called bears? and something called mountain lions? and dogs .... they definitely talked about dogs"
He does his best to keep his eyes and ears open as he and the shadow man lead the party down the trail.
Outside of Mitchrod, Keil's dark figure all but vanishes in the dim evening light leaving only two glowing yellow eyes. Although it is clear the fetchling is there, his ratty black cloak and hat seem to blend with the surroundings making it difficult to pinpoint his exact location.
Leaping frogging positions with Brok, the two stealthy figures manage to lead the group away from any dangers and, most importantly, avoid detection. With talk of striking camp, Keil's eye's narrow and his upper lip curls in disgust. He hates camping - always has.
If we must. Find something suitable. I'll keep watch.
As the group begins scouting around for shelter of some kind, Keil paces around the perimeter, keeping his eyes peeled for signs of early caravaners and other things - like bears... and, dogs.
Grey looked around at the group and used his heavy skull-topped staff to scratch a few initials into the dirt in sequence, thinking, and rearranging things every so often.
"We have enough of us for double watches. Here is the list-"
"Malzii and Raaz."
"Brok and Arlok.
"Vargrenz and Keil."
"Chuggs and Myself."
He pulled a bonewrought hourglass from his pack. "Watches are five turns of the glass."
"When we wake, Brok and Keil will scout the area while Vargrenz and Arlok stand guard and break camp. The rest of us will prepare ourselves in whatever manor our arts demand."
Grey did not speak as a demand or play for authority, he spoke more as someone who was solving a puzzle and displaying the results.
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Varg nods in understanding. He did not really understand the out of doors, but also did not know which of his new companions were capable, and which might be pretenders. Well, time would tell.
Survival:
Having spent his entire life indoors, he is not very skilled in the wild.
Varg has normal darkvision, but does not have sunlight sensitivity.
Raaz Al'Zuul nods as the half-Orc solves the Watch puzzle. He helps set camp although it is clear his slaves usually handle these things.
During his watch Raaz Al'Zuul will circle the camp slowly:
A pair of yellow eyes roll menacingly as the grey witch finishes marking the ground. Muttering in common, Keil turns to Brok, Worms and their books, then spits and continues his vigil.
"Arlok tired now, so Arlok take nap. You wake Arlok when Arloks turn to watch."
Arlok pulls out his bedroll and finds a nice spot to put it down.
Brok will spend his shift up a tree with a loaded crossbow.
Once you arrive at the bridge spanning the Wild Edge river a cursory glance shows it being a sturdy stone bridge, designed to support the weight of a couple of heavily loaded wagons weight. After crossing the bridge that spans the river you all move off the road a fair distance and look for a suitable camping site.
Brok and Malzii find a spot near a copse of trees which is fairly defensible and also allows you to hide yourselves from any passersby. Once settled in you rest throughout the day.
The day passes uneventfully and soon evening falls. The clouds have moved on and the night promises to be a brisk one indeed...
Brok takes up a stick from the ground and does a fairly horrible job of reproducing the map from Komm's chambers back at Mitchrod.
He waves the group in to see his less than stellar reproduction.
"It seems like we want to make sure we're back under cover before the sun comes up again. I'm thinking we head west until we reach the edge of that forest. Then we skirt up the edge of the woods headed north-west straight towards Zelkor's Ferry." he suggests.
If there's no other or better ideas, he rubs out the crudely drawn map, does his best to conceal their campsite, and leads the band west.
The fetchling rises energetically. With the sun setting Keil takes up a ratty looking blanket, shakes off the dirt and begins folding the article. It has certainly seen better days. Sometime ago, it had been damaged by moths and discarded by its original owner. That it is now in Keil's possession speaks of his frugality and general disregard for cleanliness. Filled with tiny holes, it has spent more time in the dirt than stored on a clean shelf. The fetchling looks around suspiciously as he goes about his preparations for the coming evening. Stuffing the item back into his pack, Keil retrieves a piece of wandermeal and greedily crams the morsel into his mouth. Washing the meal down with a mouthful of liquid from an old looking hip flask, Keil wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then licks the appendage clean. His face contorts menacingly as his tongue runs over the black powdery skin. For a moment, the fetchling's hand turns a grotesque purple but reverts to a black hue after a few wipes with a black grit covered rag Keil keeps in one of his pouches.
Waiting for the others to finish their preparations, Keil watches Brok as he scribbles in the dirt. Brok's suggestion elicits a shrug. Cutting through the trees, Keil steps forward and uses his foot to draw a diagonal line north west, is shorter. The fetchling's breath, though foul, also carries a hint of whiskey. The river's edge may be less, trouble, but will eat time.
Having expressed his opinion, Keil awaits the rest of the group to come to a decision. Then, following Brok's lead, Keil once again blends into the night. Scouting alongside the goblin, Keil's piercing yellow eyes dart left and right looking for unwanted guests.
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Varg makes his rounds during his watch quietly, only speaking to the dark shadowy man when passing to acknowledge the man. In the morning, he quietly helps Arlok break down the camp, enjoying the physical exertion and the feeling of accomplishing something. When the party is finished, he straps on his backpack and sets forth at the front of the main group, keeping an eye on the scouts to make sure that the group does not get split up.
Grey did little during his watch. He was patient by nature and not prone to distraction. In truth, he enjoyed watch duty. It was peaceful and quiet and left him much time to plan and contemplate.
In the morning he took his mask off and hung it on a tree, invoking his goddess in a silent prayer and making a shallow cut on his hand. Dozens of them in various stages of healing criss crossed his palm.
He smeared his blood across the skull side of the mask and put it back on. With a final word of thanks to his goddess, he was ready for the day.
After his watch Raaz Al'Zuul will rest and tries to sleep through the day despite the sunlight, birds and animal sounds and the apprehension of sleeping in the outdoors without his legion comrades protecting his back.
As the sun sets he gets up and puts on his armor. Then he moves slightly away from the group and meditates and communes with the Lord of Flies.
He listens to both Brok the thin Goblin and Keil the Fletchling. He shrugs his shoulders at both suggestions and says, "The shorter the route the better, however Commander Komm said to avoid the areas that have not been explored by his spies. It may be more prudent to follow the river and skirt around the forest. I will however follow the decision the group chooses to make."
He then proceeds to re-pack his gear and gets ready to move out.
Brok takes up a stick from the ground and does a fairly horrible job of reproducing the map from Komm's chambers back at Mitchrod.
He waves the group in to see his less than stellar reproduction.
Grey quietly made a few key corrections to make sure that they didn't need to backtrack or end up in a bog.
"Lead the way."
After finishing striking up camp and obscuring any traces of your passage you continue along the Coast Road trying to put as many miles behind you as possible. As the sun finishes its descent, the clear moonlit sky shines down upon you as the air turns brisk. You can tell the temperature will dip towards the freezing point, rather unusual on these late spring nights and causing those unused to the cold to wrap themselves up tighter in their clothing.
.
After traveling up the road for a couple of hours, You all hear off in the distance the sound of an eerie howling, perhaps a wolf? The sounds echoes over the hills off to the east then silence falls again.
Grey whispered an invocation and hardened the skin beneath his robes.
Brok keeps his crossbow loaded and focuses his overlarge ears on the howling.
dogs ..... he mutters to himself.
"Arlok hear doggy. Make circle. Protect each other. Doggy hunt in group. Ogre tribe keep doggy. Arlok not good with doggy. Doggy bite Arlok."
Arlok grabs his glaive and falls back to the group to form a fortified position.
Raaz Al'Zuul nods in agreement with Arlok's plan, grabs his longspear and takes up position directly opposite the half-ogre in the circle, "Arlok is right, wolves attack in packs and will try and surround us, many of them ganging up on one of us. Stay close and do not allow them to get behind you. They fear fire so if one of you casters has any flashy magics that will be useful."
"We should keep this defensive circle but keep moving until we find a good campsite to shelter in through the day." Brok says over his shoulder as he focuses on listening for sounds of creatures in the night.
"We don't want to end up out in the open when the sun comes up." he finishes.
Hearing the cry of wolves, Keil's eye's narrow as they scan the surroundings. Staining his ears to hear more, the fetchling whispers a raspy reply, Likely wolves. The shadowy figure's words leave a cloudy trail in the cool evening air. Gnashing his teeth together he adds, Or hunting dogs. Turning his head, Keil notices that the others have stopped and are forming up. Cursing under his breath he snaps his fingers to get Brok's attention, The others stop. Motioning for the goblin to back track and join the group, Keil shakes his head in frustration.
As he nears the group Keil puts his arms up as though to ask, "what?" then points east to the hills, The hills are still a few miles away. Brok is right, keep moving.