Glancing at the dead man's map, Vladimir answers, "Hard to say. No telling exactly how old this map is, and it only gives geographical features at that. No mention of any denizens."
"That being said, this close to the Brevoy border, we should keep a wary eye out for bandits, formerly allied with the Stag Lord or not."
"Hm. And other creatures of the wood, I would suppose," says Marisol lightly. "Nevertheless, in spite of the cold, it's a lovely day among the trees. I wonder how long it has been since people have lost trod here? Some bandit a week ago? Some expedition a century gone?"
"At the very least I would say that our dead friend in the river was here. Just not sure how recently." Vladimir comments before adding, "I imagine Durielle might have something to say about that."
Realizing what he has suggested, he quickly turns his attention to the oracle, "That was not a suggestion that you stress yourself by focusing your powers, but you have been known to have random visions."
"Balter, any sign of any tracks of more recent vintage?" the swordsman asks, making idle conversation before turning to Nico.
"You are a learned man, have you heard any tales of the region you could share?" he asks, trying to break the wizard out of his shell.
"Nothing that really stands out," Balter replies, peering at the dirt from atop Owlbear. He turns his attention back to the map, noting their planned route. "Just the odd animal here and there. Most of them know not to stray too far from the woods."
"If the bandits were smart, they'd get the hell out of dodge. Go to the River Kingdoms, or something. But knowing them, they'll either crawl to Dovan or gods forbid, declare themselves the new Stag Lord or something."
Marisol rolls her eyes and makes an aggrieved sound at Balter's notion of bandits declaring themselves new Stag Lords, and says, "Fortunately I doubt there are any out there who can shoot a bow as well as the old Stag Lord did."
Nico travels most of the morning in silence. A glance or two in his direction shows he has a sort of faraway look, though whether it's because he's tired, having some internal dialogue, or just in the rhythm of travel you can't really tell.
Vladimir's question seems to snap him out of it, but he stares blankly for a few seconds--perhaps replaying it in his head--before answering. "Me? I'm afraid we're, uh, on the wrong side of the country for that." He turns back to looking straight ahead, staring off into the distance ... or as much of the distance as the trees allow. Somewhat cryptically, he says, "I, um, wanted a change, you know? It's odd, but I enjoy not knowing what's ahead. And then finding out."
Marisol's mail armor rustles as she turns in the saddle to hear Nico's reply. "The excitement of the unknown?" she says. "Certainly it can be a welcome change from day after day with the same listless routine." She gives a quirky smile and tugs for a moment at the reins to guide Prancer around a stubby knot of roots. "Of course, with Durielle along with us, we get some... shall we say, sneak peeks of what's to come? But it's still a thrill."
"Listless routine is something I know well," he says, still staring off in to the distance. "I hadn't realized how restless I'd become. But there's a lot of time to think out here. Without the, uh, interruptions of city living."
He looks over to Marisol, trusting his summoned steed to keep a safe and steady pace. "I worked a lot of different jobs over the years. It only recently occurred to me that I always found some excuse to move on to the next thing. But those excuses were literally excuses for what I really felt, which, um, was ... an anxiousness to move on. To find something else. To find the right thing." He shrugs and says, "Maybe all of that led to here."
"No kidding," Balter remarks, rubbing the spot on his chest that the Stag Lord's arrow had pierced. Were the bandit ruler sober, things might not have gone so well for them. "Still, I didn't say they'd be very good Stag Lords."
He looks over at Nico, scrutinizing him. "Maybe. Unless you end up finding an excuse to leave here too," he says with a teasing smirk.
Vladimir chuckles, hearing Balter's teasing remark.
"Let's hope that Nico has found his calling here with us." he says, before turning to Nico. "If I can guarantee you one thing, my friend, you will not stay bored too long out here in the Greenbelt. It seems this land and the people in it are full of surprises...not always the nicest"
Vladimir glances toward Marisol, and with a wink adds, "On the other hand some of those surprises can turn out to be rather pleasant."
Nico shifts his weight on his horse, and he seems, perhaps, a little uncomfortable being the focus of the conversation. "It's possible, I suppose, Balter. I don't know the future. But ... Alseta opened this door; I opened the others."
He turns again to watch the path ahead of them. "Surprises or not, good or not ... " He lets that trail off, then says, "I, um, turn 30 next year. That may not mean much to anyone here ... except perhaps Vladimir. For a human, that is a long time to have lived without a purpose."
Durielle looks embarrassed as both Vlad and Marisol allude to her abilities.
"I'm not really sure anything I've seen has ever really been of much value..."
She leans forward and strokes Whisper's mane and neck.
"On the contrary, I often feel as if I bring confusion to what might be an otherwise straight forward decision."
She rests her gaze on Vlad. "Sometimes the obvious choice is better without knowing the pain of a more difficult path." Then her luminescent silver eyes turn to regard the wilds around them, but what she actually sees there is unknown.
"I know my interferences have cost us time and energy we could have used to continue exploring. If-if I hadn't been so insistent with some of the bandits..." Durielle shakes her head.
"I feel like I often hold you back from things that would be easier for you because my own conscience can't abide the ease such decisions can come to be accepted. I fear my simple villager sensibilities have frequently been more burdensome than helpful in a place like this." The elf waves her hand to encompass the wilderness around them. "Maybe sometimes...I..."
Durielle begins to cough violently, but it abates if not quite as quickly as usual. She falls silent for a moment after then says, "I'm sorry. I fear I have depressed everyone's mood again. Please don't worry about me. For my part, I-I'm glad I am here in this place...with all of you."
Vladimir nods. "Nico, while it is true that thirty years is a long time for our kind, and Balter's for that matter, gods willing you will still have far longer than that to carry out your purpose."
Hearing Durielle's words, Vladimir responds, "Nonsense. You simply sought what you felt was a better way of dealing with repentant bandits. I doubt anyone here faults you for that in the least."
"And I suspect you will have to try harder than that to dampen our spirits today, m'lady. Pleasant weather, at least for the season, for a ride after a good night's rest is pretty hard to overcome." Vladimir adds with a smile.
Unable to shake an odd feeling following the oracle's gaze, he says, "I am not sure I follow your comment about obvious choices and more difficult paths. Perhaps we can talk a bit more about it later tonight once we are done exploring for the day."
"As you wish, but I admit my meaning is probably much simpler than you're imagining," Durielle reassures.
She smiles at the cavalier.
"I'm grateful for your words. I truly do not wish to ruin anyone's day. Let us enjoy this moment together."
Despite coming from a Seer, everyone strongly suspects Durielle means nothing unusual despite her emphasis.
"There's that name again," Balter remarks with a chuckle. "Alseta. Can't say I know of her. But then again, I've never paid a great deal of attention to the gods."
Overhearing Vladimir and Durielle's conversation, the half-elf smirks yet again.
"At least she isn't speaking in riddles. But sounding cryptic even when you don't mean to be must come with the territory." For a few moments he rides in silence before continuing. "The alternative would have been to just kill all of those bandits. I don't think any of you would have been very happy with that. So the extra work must have been worth it, yeah?"
"Quite worth it," chimes in Marisol in agreement. "It's good to see people taking a chance to change their lives for the better." She takes a hand of the reins for a moment to tug her hood slightly forward and keep it from falling away, then resumes her guidance of Prancer.
"I for one am glad for all of you, as this team has proven not only effective, but a strong social group. It's good to have friends and family who can rely on each other."
Durielle definitely brightens as her concerns are easily dismissed by her friends. As the ride progresses, she can be heard humming a song likely to have been one a mother would sing to her infant child.
After a little more consideration, Marisol says, "One of the things I was truly missing while I was living by myself back home was having other people's points of view, their experiences of the world... not arguing, I mean, but just interacting with people whose words and actions open your eyes to seeing events in a different way. Whether insightful, or aggressive, or conciliatory, having all of these around is like having entire other worlds around!"
Nico smiles slightly, and idly fiddles with the reins in his hand. "Alseta is the goddess of doors and transitions. Doors both literal and metaphorical. I don't mean to preach, or to imply that my being here is some, uh, divine intervention," he says, then pauses for a moment to think of his next words. "When you choose to follow a deity, it puts you in a ... mindset. You see opportunities and connections more clearly. So when I say Alseta opened this door, what I mean is, I was not looking for this opportunity. It came to me, and my faith helped me recognize something that I might otherwise have ignored."
He listens as the conversations blend together, and then to the soft tune that Durielle hums. "Um ... I want to say that I am honored to be a part of such a close-knit group of friends. And, uh, grateful for how welcoming you have been. It can be ... intimidating stepping in to a circle of friends like yours. And I, uh, don't find it easy to make friends. It is hard work. Has always been. So, thank you.
"And for whatever this is worth, I am glad you chose not to kill all of the bandits you captured. I have done enough of that, already." You hear just a hint of bitterness when he says, "Restov was eager to make examples of people. It is far easier than just making people into better examples."
This northern part of the Narlmarches is dominated by evergreens. This particular portion - in your first few hours of exploration - is less dense than most of the woods you have explored so far. There are grassy portions, areas thick with wildflowers and weeds, and a few muddy clearings with reedy ground cover - chest height if you were to be on foot.
You spot rusty metal in the weeds a moment before Owlbear steps onto it. An armed bear trap.
When the group stops for a light meal, Marisol picks several wildflowers and deftly weaves them into a bouquet to wear atop her cloak's hood.
With a grimace Balter tugs hard on Owlbear's reins, bringing the stubborn steed to a sudden stop. "Hold on, don't go any further."
He takes a quick look at the ground next to him before dismounting, immersing himself in the tall weeds. The ranger carefully wades through ahead of the group, before stopping to push back a bushel of wildflowers, exposing the rusty bear trap.
"Bear trap, still armed by the look of it," he reports, leaning down near the contraption. He gives it a look of clear disdain. "No idea how long it must have been out here for."
Looking at the bear trap pointed out by Balter, Vladimir comments, "Judging by the rust it has been out here a while." while looking for a downed branch or long stick suitable for triggering the trap.
"I would suspect there are others in the area. We should be careful."
"Ugh. If we find more, it also means we should probably be on the lookout for mean bears," says Marisol, wrinkling her face with displeasure.
"What?" Durielle blinks, while pulling back on Whisper's reins to encourage the mare to take a few steps back. "You think there are more than just one?"
The oracle glances around at the surrounding wilderness nervously. "I do not want to risk Whisper's health! Should we backtrack and take another path?"
"The alternative is that the bear-traps are designed to catch something else, like... I don't know, ogres or owlbears," says Marisol. "Who would just leave bear traps scattered about?"
"There could be more," Balter agrees with a frown. "As for what they're here to trap... hard to say. Usually one would pick a more strategic spot if they were planning on catching specific prey. Not that I'd ever use one."
"We could proceed on foot, make sure we at least have a clear route through the area before taking the horses through," he suggests when he hears Durielle's concerns. "In any case, we can't just leave these things lying around."
"Well, a lot can happen in a few centuries. Not that I’d know,” he says finally, slowly picking the plate on the table clean.
"When you talk like that, you don't sound so different from m- well, the rest of us. Asides from the future visions, I mean," he adds quickly. "Even with them, you have no idea what you're doing here. So what makes it so hard to live in the present?"
"Can you disable them?" asks Marisol.
Balter shrugs. "Well, I could poke it with a stick. Can't get much simpler with these things."
The jaws of the trap slam shut.
You spot human tracks near the trap as well as several other traps in the area. The tracks go to each of the traps, and lead away from the area south into the woods.
"Do I..do I really seem like I am so different than the rest of you?" Her voice is delicate and fragile. Balter can clearly see his statement has really struck something in the sickly elf as she lowers herself back into her seat. She turns her face away from Balter to stare out into the darkness past the bonfire in the courtyard her expression mysterious.
Nico flinches at the sound of the trap snapping shut. "Maybe someone is, uh, trying to discourage company."
Balter repeats his "method," deliberately triggering each and every trap he can find.
"You might be right," Balter says finally, nodding to Nico. "What's more, these things must have been set recently. There're still tracks here from whoever set them." He points southward. "They lead over there, back in the woods."
Durielle reaches up and wipes at her eyes. Is that the twinkling of tears?
"I..I don't really know how to answer your question. Living in the present is all I want to do. Seeing the possibilities of all your futures...they are like a plague worse than the Omenstar's Promise has ever been." Durielle's eyes come around to meet Balter's for the barest instant and in them he sees an agonizing hurt laid bare.
Her whisper has an edge, a wound opened and now gushing. "Do you know how may times I have had to watch all of you die?"
Durielle's gaze drops to the table as tears stream down her gaunt and pale cheeks.
"In the futures I can see so much happiness, but...also so much sorrow."
She rubs at her eyes trying to stem the tide. "I-I'm sorry...I..." The elf takes a breath looking more thin and ethereal than Balter has ever seen her. Her golden hair stirs in a night breeze. The strands float seeming to thin out into nothing, the darkness trying to take her away bit by bit.
Durielle stands abruptly. "I think I should retire for the night."
She makes a slashing motion with one slender hand. The firelight appears to make the bones inside visible to the naked eye. Surely a trick of the light.
"Balter...just forget what I said. You needn't be party to the burden of my curse...none of you need to suffer as I do. Some are not made for it. I will choose to find the best possible future, the best possible outcome for the happiness of my friends...regardless of what it means for me. No one else, not anyone, needs to know..."
"Might as well follow the trail to see who set the traps and more importantly find out why." Vladimir comments.
The rest of the words never make it out of his mouth. When he meets Durielle's gaze he sees a familiar sight that makes him recoil. As the tears start falling, he struggles to find something, anything to say that might comfort her. As her last words sink in however, the effort is ceased. Something about them apparently strikes a nerve.
"Fine. Have it your way," he replies indignantly, refusing further eye contact. There are other things he wants to say, but he is either unwilling or incapable. He just doesn't understand, and it frustrated him to no end. "But I didn't come here in search of happiness. So if you're looking for a happy future for everyone, then don't expect to find me there."
Balter takes a last, long draught of ale and then stands, his defensive instinct compelling him to get the last word in before fleeing. In a way, it was almost childish. "You should probably find better company to keep."
Balter nods. "Sounds good to me. It'll be hard to settle the area if someone keeps laying down traps all over."
Balter leads you through the woods tripping traps along the way. After a half-hour, a weathered cabin comes into view. A scrawny red-haired youth is busy tinkering with some contraption atop a table on the porch. He looks to be in his mid teens.
"Ho there! Got nothin to rob me of if that's your thought." His tone is defiant, but he drops his tools and raises his hands in surrender.
"Have no fears of that." Vladimir says to the youth while trying to get a better look at whatever the boy was tinkering with.
"There are quite a few bear traps out there. Are those your father's doing?"
Balter stares at the cabin for a few moments with an inscrutable expression, before diverting his attention to the youth. "So are you hunting for bears? Or just trying to keep people off your lawn?"
"Yeah... you know him?" He picks up his tools again - he appears to be coiling a metal rod around a thicker one to make a spring. "Haven't seen him for a while... eight months or so. Figure something took out the mean ol' buzzard."
He shrugs in response to Balter "Oh whatever... goblins, bandits, brush dogs.... Don't see much of any of em these days, but I still go out to check em. And yeah.. I s'pose it helps to keep folks outta our woods. Father always said setting traps about is like how dogs mark their territory." He jerks a thumb southwestward.. "Mostly traps for small game and fey are that way, but some are for whatever comes along. Father gets a kick outta gettin all creative with his traps."
Also...
"Is your father a man named Breeg?" Vladimir says slowly approaching the cabin. "Seems like your traps are not quite providing for you in manner in which you would like. Can we interest you in a bit of food?"
"Aye yeah.. that's him... Breeg Orlivanch. My name is Jank." After a light nervous chuckle "I do alright, but yeah. That'd be good.. thank you, sir."
Nico leans over to Durielle and whispers, quietly, "Who's Breeg?"
Durielle looks at the youth in concern. How strange it is to find such a young one in this perilous wilderness.
"Oh my," the oracle breathes softly recognizing the signs of improper nutrition.
To Nico, she responds quietly, "I'm afraid I do not know. Someone Vladimir encountered before I arrived, it would seem."
The oracle hears the clank of his now empty tankard as Balter places it on the table. She remains standing as his light footsteps fade until he's located his room for the night. As his door shuts behind him, Durielle's legs feel shaky and ready to give out, but rather than fight them, she sinks to her knees kneeling in the light of the waning bonfire.
"It's better this way..." she whispers in the dark. "It must be. Whether they will it or not, I shall find their happiness in all the possible futures that exist."
Her cheeks continue to be wet.
"What else can I do? Why else am I here?"
Durielle turns her gaze to the heavens. The stars do not answer her. The moon's face looks back but also chooses to remain quiet. The oracle's silver eyes glint brightly even in the dark, her tears an offering to whoever or whatever had made her into what she has become. If that being had any concern for her, they do not make it known to her...not this night.
The pale, sickly elf cries alone in the fading firelight, visions of life and death dancing before her as they always do. How long she remains there is lost to her as time has long become difficult to discern when she is unanchored by the presence of another. Gentle hands shake her shoulders. Svetlana has come to replenish the bonfire, and the kind woman guides Durielle to bed. What she must think of Durielle kneeling in the night's chill, the fire dying beside her. Soon sleep takes the elf, a blessedly dreamless unconsciousness devoid of the future visions which so often plague her.
All too soon the next day dawns...
"Do you have a stove and cooking ware in your home? We have a rather accomplished cook with us," Durielle indicates Marisol. "With her help, I believe I can find just the right food you need to become as strong a man as this wilderness requires."
She calmly approaches the boy with a smile. "Do you mind if I have a good look at you? It helps me learn all about the right food to make for such a resourceful boy." the sickly but comely elf pulls her head back so the boy can see her face clearly.
"Breeg, beyond being this boy's father, is the brother of Bokken, an alchemist that lives a bit east of Oleg's." Vladimir says before more solemnly turning back to Jank.
"I am afraid your instincts are correct, Jank, your father has met an ill fate, having provoked the wrong fey too many times. My condolences."
Marisol nods at Durielle's suggestion, then turns to Vlad and says, "What should we do? We can't leave the poor boy to starve without his father."
the sickly but comely elf pulls her head back so the boy can see her face clearly.
The sickly but comely elf pulls her hood back so the boy can see her face clearly.