Yar! It smells like somethin's on fire th'taint supposed to be.
Rammellorn becomes very concerned.Vatilda, Kalim, I wonder if there is a village nearby. Kind of smells like somethin's on fire that ain't supposed t'be.I already said that didn't I?
"Ain't no village, couple farms though 'bout 2 miles up yonder."
Thinkin' someone might be tryin to burn the forest down and us in it. Rammellorn states as he carefully and slowly readies his longaxe.
I think perhaps we should check it out. Folks may be needin' our help. Course, could be a trap as well. What do you think about it, Vatilda?
"Reconnaissance only. Is this a threat to us? If not, it is not of our concern."
Zzzz… Zzzz… Z… *Snort* Zzzz… Zzzz… Z… *Snort*
"Two of us should investigate and the other stay here. Any sign of trouble, scream like demons."
The other guard on duty comments, "that appears to be some distance away...couple miles at least, don't right believe we could hear at that distance." He pauses, "then there's lots of scary things out at night." He grips his poleax with two hands
"Then I propose we wait for now and see if it approaches."
Doesn't anyone have a horn or instrument or something? Surely the caravan could spare such an item for the protection of all.
"It makes no matter. We were hired to protect this caravan. Until the fires are a threat to said caravan, they are out of our purview. Worse yet, leaving this caravan would mean dereliction."
I suppose it would do us no good to get scattered and then attacked, leaving the caravan defenseless. Rammellorn comes to reasoning, but his innate nature to help others in trouble really gnaws at him as he waits for anyone willing to check it out so he can accompany them.
He shrugs, "I ain't got one, do you?" he says sort nasty. "Suppose I could wake the sergeant up, see if he's got one." He stands there a few moments waiting for direction, like he not looking forward to waking up the sergeant.
"Precisely. And I do not mean we should ignore it ...we should watch it. We don't even know from whence it came."
How about a spyglass? Rammellorn asks the guard, Do you got one o those. Seems unwise of a caravan to travel without one. He mentions hoping by adding his opinion, it will automatically be available.
He shrugs, "Sarg may have one...or the merchant Che-apskin, but I'm just scratchn' a livin' here." he looks around the sleeping members, "Besides nearly d'end of me watch.
When the time approaches for the second shift the guard will go and wake up the others. He nudges his crew along with Nibb and Karnog. he would let the next round know about the smoke.
Nibb would cheerfully great Rammellorn, Kalim and Vatilda, "It's a sweltering evening, reminds me of the time I was swimming across the Sellen River in Galt."
"Why did I take second watch? Getting in and out of this armor is a pain in the arse..."
Karnog grumbles as he gets himself bolted, strapped, and otherwise situated into his plate.
"Anything untoward, other than the smoke scent, transpiring?"
perception, as necessary
No lights or unusual shapes and shadows that you can see. The smoke continues and the breeze is still light and the smell continues. It's a burning fresh wood, that has not been cured, scent but it has a strange paint pigmentation aroma layered within.
"Burning fresh wood and paint. Where have I encountered that before? A wagon set alight, or a boat? Something manmade and relatively new, or my beard is false."
"For now, it seems to not be of our concern. Wake me if it poses a threat to us." With that, the Rahadoumi goes to bed.
Shift 2:
*Snort*....tankards of honey mead....*snort* as Argrim peacefully sleeps.
----
Shift 3:
Other than the smell the second shift goes by uneventfully. The caravan guards on duty wake the last shift for their watch. Again mentioning the smoke smell.
Argrim and Varl are on duty for the last 2 hours. The sky only has a few clouds but there is a thin haze that has seeped into the area, carrying that distinctive odor.
"Varl, what is that damn smell? Does it smell like a fresh torch to you? How big do you think that fire is for us to smell it? Which way do you think it's coming from?" Argrim asks after his daily calisthenics and breakfast. He is obviously uncomfortable by that smell. One thing good about dwarven mines, they don't catch on fire. No fuel but rocks and stones.
Argrim , you can tell that the smell is coming from Southwest. Generally in the direction the road is heading.
"Well, seems the fires haven't abated overnight. We should definitely keep a close eye out for ambushes and enemies today."
"ZZZ... zzz... ZZZ..."
As the sunrises the camp begins to stir to life. Even with the sun the haze hangs on the air. Cooking fires are stoked, the animals are cared for and the team is assembled. Within two hours the caravan is on the road.
Rolling hills and copse of trees begin to dominate the terrain. At the top of the first hill you can the cause of the smoke, there is a small farm burning itself out about a half a mile off the road in the valley.
As soon Nibb wakes up and ready his field outfit (armor included) he is going to look for a spot inside the wagon from he can observe the road smoothly.
Then, he draws his journal notebook and begin to take notes.
"Expedition to Rappan Athuk. Day 1:
We have started the road to the ancient ruins of Rappan Athuk. In order to procure safety for my trip, I've joined a recognition group hired by Walther Featherton (what a plain, uninteresting name for a fellow gnome!), a local guide and cartographer.
So far, the recognition group is formed by a bunch of rude, unpolite dwarves (as the vast majority of that ancient race) and two humans... one of them so secretive that it seems it cannot be trusted. Anyway, a woman called Vatilda (the other human) has proven useful for gathering information and local rumors from the caravan's crew (she can make a fine secretary!).
Maybe, I must compare notes with her, since those rumors could contain any true hints about Rappan Athuk."
As Nibb jots his notes a tall lanky human walks next to the wagon he is in, in a dull slowed tone, "Hullo," His nose is running and it doesn't seem to be bothering him, as his tongue flicks out it wipes away the wetness. "you f..f..f.fu...un...un..unny llllokin'g,he stutters. 'W..w..wun..ddd'r what they are ccookkin' innnnn the valley."
Argrim stands up in the wagon, "By Magrim's beard! That was the smoke we smelled last night!" He will gauge the pace of the caravan and jump off the wagon to run toward the farm to minimize his sprint without looking back.
Roused from his sleep near one of the campfires, Varl pushes himself up to his stubby feet. Sniffing the air, the dwarf nods to Argrim. Aye, it smells of smoke, and not like the stuff from a blacksmith, this smells more like something burning.
Watching Argrim jump off the wagon, Varl nods decisively. This is what they should have done last night. Turning to the rest of the "short swords" Varl gives a snort. Well? Varl huffs. Get ya gear. Time da get started. Varl mutters at the lay-a-bouts and academics, before picking up his own weapon and shield. Quickly turning to the caravan master Varl gives a nod. We be going. Stay if you can, but go if ya can't.
In the morning Vatilda sticks to her routine as much as possible; light food and meditation, followed by the rest of her breakfast. She finds her meditation difficult with the smell of smoke, and the resulting anxious dread she could not shake.
As the caravan comes within view of the burning farm, Vatilda grabs her loaded pack and hustles toward the fire, as well. She tries to quiet her mind... unable to fully prepare herself for the unexpected.
As the members begin to hustle away from the caravan, you can hear the merchant direct the caravan master not to stop. "Keep it moving let 'em handle it, we got a schedule to keep." There's murmuring through the wagoners but they comply to their order.
"Cooking? What are you talking about?"
Then Nibb sniffs in the air in an effort to understand the man's chatter.
Upon hearing the dwarf, Nibb rushes towards them.
"Where are you going? Hey, wait for me!"
Nibbfir you hear the man giggling as he watches you run away from the caravan. "L..l..llittt...tttle man run...aaaa..way." He begins to clap.
"What in hells are you doing? STOP! DO NOT RUN OFF! We stay together. We are protecting a caravan, not inviting bandits by walking into traps. YOU!" He turns to the new man. "Who are you? Where did you come from?" He brandishes his spear defensively and glares at the newcomer.
Finally, when Nibb manages to catch up the dwarf:
"Why...uf... were you running like that? Weren't we supposed to be alongside... ah... the caravan until we reach Rap... I mean, our destination?"
Then he realizes, in shock, what happened to the farms...
"Oh goodness... that's terrible! Do you think there was any survivors?"
The stuttering man has a blank look on his face as Kalim approaches. "I...I...I dddon't mmmake 'da dddecisions."
The caravan master, on the lead wagon, looks back to his employer and shrugs. "Bossman don't want us to stop...we don't stop. You're free to go check out the situation but the boss has his schedule. If you want to catch back up you can." Clearly, he has a pained look on his face, that he is not calling the shots.
I'll assume everyone eventually follows the dwarves towards the the smouldering farm. As you approach much of the fire is out but you see the obvious signs of a raid on the small farm.
Here is the an initial map as you approach.
FARMHOUSE MAP
Kalim grumbles as he follows his compatriots.
Nibb is going to look after any survivors...
Varl's actions comforted Argrim knowing he wasn't alone, but the smoldering farmhouse caused him deep pain. Someone would pay for this destruction.
He tried to ignore that other Human's idiotic question and attempt at orders. We would need to get our short swords aligned sooner rather than later, but it can wait until after this. he thought to himself.
"By the beard! We should've investigated last night. Curse my lazy bones, these villagers' blood is on my hands."
Karnog swears profusely in dwarven as he tromps after his brethren.
Drawing his hammer and shield as he nears the devastated village, he peers around for ambushes, traps, or survivors.
"Be on your guard. Whoever or whatever did this may still be around."
perception