She is an old woman, and a peddler. Her wagon is loaded with leather and cloth, small steel tools, and in the back, under a box covered by a blanket are a few potions, her own brew, guaranteed to cure whatever it is you might have. Her name is Wuda, and she lives in a small cottage in the shadow of the walls of the fortress at Castletown, but today she is on the road. She has dressed in dark wool skirts, and she wears a vest that is green and trimmed with rabbit fur. Her once golden brown hair has been grey for many long years and she wears it rolled up on the top of her head and under a small yellow felt hat with a wide brim. If it were true that when she was young she was a beauty for all me to behold, she has forgotten it, or perhaps she never really believed them anyway, but now, she is old. Her face is wrinkled, but she is not gaunt, no not like she was a few years ago. She eats well now, and she feels better than she has in years, that is to say only that she began the day feeling well.
Wuda’s brown eyes are bloodshot, her arms ached and her back was sore, and by hell or high water she was going to get her wagon back on the road, even if that dumb animal of hers had ideas otherwise. She pulled on the yoke over her donkey’s neck and cursed the beast with every second pull. But it was not going to move. Its feet were stuck in the mud, and it seemed, as donkey’s go, that this one was completely okay with the idea of being stuck in the mud.
Two men, Alodoan soldiers, approached Wuda on horseback. One of the men was a man of great size, and he rode a horse that was at least four hands larger than the horse the other fellow rode.
“Good woman,” the large man called down to Wuda, who was struggling in the ditch beside of the road to try and force her donkey to get up and pull a small wagon back onto the road from where it must have slid.
Wuda heaved a heavy sigh, and turned around to address the men, the very handsome and strong men.
“Whadda ya want,” she began before she saw the square set jaw of the large man and his pleasant smile below sky blue eyes and wavy brown hair, “I mean, yes, what can I help you with, sir,” she went on with a curtsey.
“Can we help you? Thomas, find a long tree branch, something we can use as a lever,” the large man said as he dismounted from his horse. “Madam my name is Geoffrey Borderman, and my friend here is Thomas Spinner, and as soldiers of Alodoan it is our duty to assist people in need, and you look as though you are in need,” he laughed a friendly laugh.
“Oh, thank you, kind sirs, thank you. My stup – I mean my poor donkey was startled by a fox that ran across the road, and I ended up stuck here in the mud. I could definitely use some help,” Wuda was talking as she climbed up the side of the ditch beside the road and reached out for the large man’s hand. When he took her hand, in both of his, for extra security, she reached out and felt the muscle in his forearm and could not help but gasp. “My but you are a strong boy.”
“haha, yes, well, I tend to eat more than I should, but the local cooking is beyond my ability to resist. Now, while Thomas finds us something to help get you back on the road, can you tell me where you are headed this day?”
“Woodbridge, kind sir,” Wuda said as she swiped at the mud on her skirts and tried to make herself look more presentable.
“Woodbridge? I can’t say I know the place. Is it far?”
“Yes, it is a bit, about twenty more miles down this road, well it doesn’t stay a road for very much longer, but it is a good twenty miles none the less. Through Sandy meadow, and then you skirt to the east of Fennimen’s Quagmire, and then just through a mile or so of the Willows, and then right there along the Lorisaine, is the village of Woodbridge. You’ve never heard of it?”
The large man, Geoffrey, turned and looked east, where he could see, not far in the distance, the river the locals called the Lorisaine. “You mean it is along that winding river there, to the south?”
“Yes,” Wuda answered examining the man’s clothing. He wore fine cotton trousers, and a shirt made from linen, the sleeves of which were visible under the heavy leather and ring armor the man wore.
“No, sorry, can’t say I know the place.”
“Let me tell you about it.”
“Woodbridge is a quiet little village of farmers and sheep herders. About four hundred people live there, on a little island in the middle of a narrow oxbow lake that is still connected to the Lorisaine. Oh the village has been there for years and years, my sister once lived there, but she moved after her husband died, up to Castletown, where I’m from myself now.'
“They make a good, decent amount of coin on the crops they grow and the wool from their animals, and though they are not by far people of wealth, they are willing to spend their money on the goods I bring them every few months.”
“Now you see,” Wuda said as she began counting out on her fingers, “there’s the village man, Connor O’Lehig, a good man, a very good man, and his wife L’sbirr, and they have at least a dozen children, last time I was counting. And there is Mr. Panforey, he is the local priest, and another good man. Then there’s The Ballinig’s, the Foregan’s, the O’Narro’s and the Galihan’s, all right good families, and ones I can count on for a slae every time, then there’s some assorted Maetaur folk, they live just outside the village proper, and a small group of them Nog, uh, Narga,” she struggled for a moment.
“You mean the Gymnaga people?” Geoffrey said, now looking more intently to the south.
“Yes, them’s the folk I mean, good, but a bit strange, and make fine belts don’t you know, with colors I can’t reproduce no matter how many times I’ve tried. They’re grand, just grand.”
Thomas approached, leading his horse with one hand while with the other he was dragging a long straight tree limb.
“Will this do, Geoffrey?” Thomas asked.
“Oh, yes, perfect,” Geoffrey said as he leapt down next to the wagon, and held out his hand for Thomas to hand him the limb.
“Good madam, tell me,” Geoffrey said as he began raising the side of the wagon up out of the mud and motioned with his head for Thomas to get behind the wagon and push. Standing right next to the wagon, Geoffrey could now smell the unmistakable scent of Apple Cider, and peering toward the front of the wagon he spied an open jug. “Tell me, if you don’t mind, may we ride with you to Woodbridg? I would love to meet the people, and if that’s the famous Castletown cider I smell, I don’t know how I can take no for an answer.”
Wuda struggled and slipped back down into the ditch with spryness in her steps that defied her years, and retrieved the jug quickly. She held it out to Geoffrey as the wagon lunged forward and the donkey bolted, with the help of Thomas pushing from the rear, back up to the road pulling the small wagon, and Thomas, with him.
Geoffrey took the jug, slid it onto his forearm, as he had learned by watching the locals, and took a deep draught from the jug. He then wiped his mouth with his sleeve, ran up the embankment and helped Thomas back onto his feet, from where he had fallen after the donkey pulled the wagon to the road.
Geoffrey handed the jug to Thomas, who had to handle it with both hands, but took as deep a drink as he could from the sweet alcoholic nectar, and then turned and smiled at Wuda, waiting for her answer.
“It’d be a pleasure, boys, and good buys that you are. There is a festival, not a big to do, just a blessing over the planting, in just three days, we should make it there in two, to be sure. It will be grand. Do you need to ride back to your homes and pick up any supplies for the trip?”
“No, good lady, who hasn’t even told us her name, which I’m sure is as beautiful as the sun on the lake in the morning. We ride with a week’s rations, and aren’t expected back for at least that long. Thomas and I were sent out to take in the land and report back what we learn, so, we would be happy to keep your company to Woodbridge.”
Wuda climbed up onto the seat at the front of the wagon, took the jug back from Thomas, when he offered it, and picked up the reins, “Oh, yer a charmer, and a winning lad, you are. My name is Wuda, and damned I’d be if my name didn’t in fact mean, sun on the water, so here’s to a safe journey, and new friends, and the pleasure of the company of the folks of Woodbridge.”
Welcome to the game thread for the Woodbridge campaign that will be called, “How Big is Your World”.
It is late winter, in Woodbridge, the last week before spring, and a cold fog and morning rain still fall nearly every day. The village is alive with activity. A small stage is being assembled in the center of the village proper in the shade of an enormous Larch, the leaves of which are beginning to fill in. The air is filled nearly all the day with the smell of backing goods, pies and breads, because Torry Onahugh had just rode back from Castletown a week ago with nine large sacks of the finest wheat you’d ever seen, beaten from the husks and ready to mill. They call it Winter Wheat, and it only grows on the hills near Castletown. (The ground in Woodbridge is fertile, yes, but a bit on the moist side for early grain. Once the summer comes, the fields around Woodbridge will turn to wheat and oats, after the vegetables have been grown).
It is cool this time of year, with high temperatures only in the upper forties. The day has about nine hours of sunshine. Sunrise is around eight thirty, and sunset around five, but you have no way of keeping track of time that accurately. It rains most days, but only briefly. When the sun is out, the air is filled with the smell of green growing things, trees (the woods around Woodbridge are filled with trees , Oak, Maple, Birch, Larch, Willow, and others), small shrubs and creeping vines, and wild flowers of every kind.
People dress in Wool, mostly, and the men are as likely to be wearing a long woolen kilt, as they are to be wearing trousers.
You can begin posting whatever you like, and there should be enough names to help you begin to interact with other villagers, or each other, if you wish.
I will try to work on a concise list of NPC(s) and their roles to be included in the campaign info thread as soon as I can. Good luck, have fun, and
Play like you don’t need to win!
Dieredon woke early, as was his custom. He enjoyed being up with the dawn. He looked forward with anticipation to the upcoming Planting Festival. It meant that people would gather, and that meant he could earn some coin as a Hunting Guide as the game became more prevalent in the mating season.
Dieredon dresses in his brown and green woolen clothes before heading out to the center of town to check-in for breakfast at the Bread and Board.
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"What I wouldn't give for a dry mid-summer day", Brother Phineas muttered to himself as drops of moisture from the damp, early morning fog rolled down off his hat and onto his face. "Gods preserve us but does rain so here." The town square was a beehive of activity. The stage near the Gathering Tree was coming along nicely. He gave a brief nod to Sean Foregan who was supervising the construction of the platform again this year. Phineas and Sean were classmates before, but what different paths they'd taken since their formal education ended. Now the Foregan lad was growing up in his father's carpentry business and Phineas was apprenticed to the town priest, Mr Panforey. "Mr Panforey!", he thought startling himself from his reverie, "he'll tan my hide if I don't get a move on down to the lakefront to look for them mushrooms he's wantin' for the Festival. Gotta find em' in the boggy area past the bridge he said. Then gotta get him good and dried out for the soup he's wantin' for Festival Day's dinner. (Although I'm not sure how anythin'll ever dry in this accused damp.) Mr Panforey's homemade mushrooom soup sure is one of my favorites...".
Speaking of favorites, he could smell the bacon frying at the town tavern, the Bread and Board as he passed and was thinking about breakfast and decided to hurry this little chore along. Picking up his pace, Phineas nearly bumped square into a strange-looking, tall, and well-muscled elf who's shoulder length silver hair was quite a contrast to Phineas' own flaming red locks."'Xuse me, good sir", Phineas said brushing past the fellow and going on his way to the lakefront. "He sure was a strange one, that fella. Not sure I'm ever gonna get used to the sight o' them funny looking ears and whatnot. Sure wonder where he and the others came from all o'sudden like?".
Soon he was at the picking place and filling his cassock pockets with little morels as instructed by his mentor. He practiced his prayers and rehearsed the little homily he was to give at the Festival this year --the first chance he'd have to give a public blessing. The last few days had been filled with many strange events and some statling revelations about his own relationship with the Intercesor. He pondered these and other things as he hunted, and listened to the hammering and sawing in the square and the other usual sounds as the Woodbridge came awake.
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Dieredon made his way across the bridge in route to the Bread and Board.
I need to talk with Oscar and Lulu about posting some bills advertising my Guide skills for those visiting the Planting Festival...
Deep in thought, he nearly runs into a flame-haired human who greets him warmly as he shoulders by. He sort of mumbles a response as he quickens his pace to the Bread and Board.
Well met, sir...
Dieredon smiles to himself as he thinks,
These Humans were certainly difficult to get used to upon my arrival. Their lack of civility and acknowledgement of personal space was quite vexing, but maybe I have begun to grow accustomed?
Dieredon opens the doors to the Bread and Board, and the faint scents of cooking bacon that he smelled on his walk with his heightened senses now materialized full blast as his mouth began to water for the excellent, yet quaint, fare.
”Good Morning, Mister Dee ata rye see’n,” Lulu, the wife of the Tavern Keeper Oscar, says loudly, in a sing song voice trying her best to pronounce the Elf’s name, as he enters the tavern. There is something about Lulu that draws people to her. She is friendly, warm, quick with a hug or a gently hand on the cheek (a traditional Woodbridge greeting is to touch your friend’s cheek with an open hand or, for closer ties, touch cheeks together). She is thirty eight years old. Lulu is a short woman, barely four foot eleven, but she carries herself like she is six feet tall. He head is always up, and a smile is always on her round face. She prefers to wear a bonnet, dyed blue with yellow stitching in the pattern of a creeping vine. She has short blond hair that shows just a little around her face when it gets out from under her bonnet. She is setting out baskets of soft rolls at the five small tables (each with only two stools) around the open floor of the tavern that she and her husband run.
The Bread and Board is a small but solidly built two story structure (one of four such buildings clustered close together at what could be called the “center” of the village). These four buildings are unusual in that the first floor of each is built of stone, and the second floor is a timber structure with walls of wattle and daub and high peaked roofs that still use wooden shingles. The first floor of the Bread and Board has four windows, two on the front of the building, the side that faces east (one on each side of the wide maple door) and one on each wall north and south. The two front windows have fitted colored glass set in iron, and the other windows are larger, have no glass and are currently shuttered.
“I’ve got a message for you, sir,” Lulu goes on to say after she places the last basket. “Margie Toolwoad was by very early this morning, she was hoping you would be coming by and wanted to talk to you herself, but she had to be off when the egg girl came along, anyway, Margie says she has it on good ears that Wuda the peddler is coming to the village for the festival and will be bringing some soft leather hides to sell. Now Margie says she is going to try and buy the lot, and wants to make fine lined vests for sale in her shop, and she wanted to ask you if you could trap some beavers from up river for her. She said to tell you she’d pay nine silvers for each square foot of undamaged pelt you could have for her by a week from this Saturday. Can I get you something to eat this morning, Sir?”
Meanwhile, out near the bridge where Brother Phineas is gathering mushrooms, two village boys, Lorre Holman, and Tram Mitterson are crossing the bridge and see him on the banks of the lake. Lorre calls out to Brother Phineas, “Hey, Phineas!” he says down toward the young man, he is loud but there is no sense of urgency in his tone, ”You better come quick, there’s something going on at O’lehig’s place.”
Tram is smaller than Lorre, both boys are no more than fourteen, and they are always together. Tram leans over the railing of the bridge kicking his feet as he adds, “We were watching the men build the stage when we saw Mister Panforey hurrying up the way toward the house, and he said we should find you here and tell you to get up there quick.”[/b]
Connor O’lehig’s house is one of six larger, one story, and newer built houses in the village proper situated about a hundred yards from the village center, on a flat part of the island called “Riverside” since it is on the north, and higher side of the island close to the river side of the oxbow lake.
Out on the part of the village the locals call “Lakeside”, where the sheep and goats are kept in fenced fields and the homes are not so clustered together, other villagers are doing morning chores, and for some reason, Auria the One Handed, is out in this part of the village (her home is on the southern, low side of the island, just to the west of the bridge in a stand of Willow trees) and she is talking to Mitchell Flynn, at the fence in front of the Flynn house.
Good morning, Lulu, well met this fine day!
Dieredon slides to a table near the end of the Bread and Board, taking a seat that will place his back closest to the wall and provide a view of the room.
That is fine news indeed. I will gladly take up Miss Tollwoad on her offer. I will set out by sundown to set the traps. Do you perhaps know where I may find Miss Tollwoad to confirm my services?
I would love some eggs and bacon, if you have any available? I also wanted to ask you if I could post some bills on your wall advertising my Hunting, Guide and Trapping services now that the season is turning? Word of mouth has been working splendidly, but with the Planting Festival a few days away, I thought that I would formalize my dealings. Where are those boys of yours working today - at the gathering Tree?
”Well, Sean is fetching ropes for some kind of fighting ring that’s to be set up next to the stage, so he’s down at Mulligan’s, and I’m sure that Roan is out helping Elizabeth Goodwell chase sheep, or,” she says with a wink in Dieredon’s direction, ”chasing miss Goodwell, I’m certain. Eggs and bacon it is, but that’s the last of it, unless famer Roarke decides to slaughter his last two pigs, which I don’t see him doing till that sow takes to litter again. Misses Toolwoad’s place is Lakeside, not far from where you are, to the west and just behind Farmer Roarkes’ place.
What do I owe you, Lulu, for the meal? Any feelings on posting a few bills of advertisement on the wall here?
Dieredon digs into his meal, happy that he made it in time before it there was none remaining. He begins to ponder the Beaver Traps that he will set this afternoon, and he realizes that he will need to purchase some clamps and clips for their creation. before long, he notices that the plate is nearly empty.
Oh, Lulu, one more thing? Would you happen to know where I may purchase some small metal clamps and clips of the sort that I would need for the crafting of some delicate Beaver snares?
He smiles broadly at the woman as he finishes off his plate and reaches to his belt pouch for payment.
Thank you...that was delicious, as usual.
Lulu tries to smile, but her affable nature and expressive eyes give her true feelings away, and she knows it in the expression she sees on Dieredon’s face.
”Oscar doesn’t like to let folks put posting up inside, but you’re welcome to hang anything that you think will survive the fog on the walls outside by the door. You’ll be wanting to meet Marcus Dale, he is the son of the local smith, and a fine craftsmen in his own right. He’s got good hands, and can make anything you need. Now the Dale house is Riverside, that means it’s here on the island, and it is south of them new houses just to the east of us. You can’t miss it. There’s a large hammer hanging on a pole by the fence outside the house. The shop is in the rear, but most folk want you to come to the front door the first time you visit, then you should be fine just going round back any time you need to find them. That’ll be two pennies for the eggs and bacon. Oh, and if you do trap any beaver, for the pelts, I’ll give you a silver for the meat, if you are looking to sell it.”
Like everyday, Marcus gets up about half hour before sunrise. He washes up in the lake, making himself ready for a long days work at the irons. Once Lulu's opens up, Marcus will stop by for a quick bite of breakfast. He will have a few pieces of toast and a glass of fresh milk, from one of the local cows.
Howdy Miss Lulu, hope everything is going well of late. Are you excited for the upcoming festival? I am looking forward to a day or two of being able to relax a bit, not work my fingers to the bone. My father however, might think otherwise Marcus says with a slight chuckle in his voice.
Thank you for the meal Miss, I better get going before I am late. I take it the usual 2 cents for the breakfast?
Marcus will leave 3 cents on the counter for Lulu for the meal
Dieredon places two copper pennies on the bar and nods to Lulu.
I understand. Maybe I will place one outside. Thanks for the meal, Lulu, and the information. I will certainly bring that meat to you should I fare well enough.
He leaves the Bread and Board with a wave and heads to the Dale House to the southeast in search of Marcus Dale.
Assuming you go in through the front door as per Lulu's instructions...also according to craft rules it costs 1/3 in SP to craft something/ So does that mean the fair market value is 6 SP to charge? Just want to get the baseline down before I start to role-play it out.
You walk through the front door with the hammer sign beside you. Upon entering you immediately smell smoke and fire enveloping your senses. Not so strong as to choke you, but rather as a fragrance upon a woman's blouse. You see all sort of various tools used to craft a variety of goods and gear: hammers, billows, anvils among others.
Behind a counter you see a young Human male, of no immediate stature at 5'6" tall and weighing in at 115 lbs (soaking wet). He has dusty brown hair, slightly matted down due to the working conditions. He looks up from a patch of leather he was working on.
Howdy, how can I help you today? Interested in fine crafted leather by any chance? Marcus says with a warm smile.
Poseus got up about an hour after sunrise and slithered from the part of the MacNorra Ruins that his family called home.
"Overslept" he grumbles as he his sister Jellika greeted him with a cheery "Good morning", he made his way to his spears, usually he was hunting about now near the woods, hoping to catch a rabbit or even a stray deer.
He wasn't the only one who provided food here, some of the other Gymnaga even had small gardens with vegetables and grains, but to his family he was one of the main sources of fresh fish and meat, his parents tending to one of the gardens as his younger sister baby-sitted his little brother Revano.
Next to his skills as a fisherman he often dove up some freshwater pearls or glistening pebbles where his sister would make simple jewelry of. Small things that the river carried away with it.
This day was an important one, for the coming festival in Woodbridge would need some fresh meat and fish, such an opportunity to get a good trade would not present itself for a while.
He quickly stuffed some dried fish in his mouth and continued on to collect his few remaining gear; a backpack and his knife.
Off to fishing then, better hunt around nightfall for deer or rabbit
Dieredon walks into the front door of the building described by Lulu. He notices the finely crafted items, and he figures that this would certainly be the place.
Actually, no, but I am in need of a few small items that you seem quite capable of crafting. I am Dieredon, a Hunter, Guide and Trapper from the Lakeside area. I need to craft three beaver snares for a client, and I require the small metal clasps and clamps necessary to hold the hempen netting together. Would you have anything like that?
Marcus and anyone else interested in the way goods and services are traded, please take a peek over at the discussion thread for a little bit I wrote on what I think will work and let me know if you have any input or ideas to flesh it out.
Fish caught: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 101d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 71d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 181d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 61d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 191d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 161d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 101d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
So that's four bluegills, four small perches, three brook trout, and two salmons; 7-pounder and 9-pounder. I like variation.
Totalling: about 2 gp and 12 sp if my calculations are correct
can you give me the same thing for hunting in the afternoon? perhaps even include a feral animal at a natural 1 just for the reality of it
His fishing trip gone well today, Poseus dropped off the batch of fish at his house, intent on trying his luck near the forest around sunset. After half an hour he spotted a rabbit, knowing he couldn't catch it by hand, he slithered on the ground as close as he could. At reasonable close range, he hurled one of his spears at the little critter, a dead-on hit. The fur would be probably useless, but it was the meat he was after.
Satisfied with the kill, though he would have preferred a deer, he set out for home again. try his luck in the morning for hopefully a second kill to trade in Woodbridge.
Nice to meet you Dieredon, the name is Marcus. And yes I am able to craft those clamps you require. For materials and labor it will be 3 silver pieces and I can have it done for you in a couple hours time, if that would be acceptable? If so, then we require half payment now and the rest when you come to pick up your finished product. Marcus replies a smile.
Don't what what craft check or DC you would llike but if it is a craft I don't have then I assume my father has masterwork tools I can use
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
That will work just fine, Marcus. Here are two silvers up front, and I will bring another two by in a couple of hours for the finished product. I would like to speak to you about some fine-tuning of my armor in the future for a sizeable commission. I will see you this afternoon.
Dieredon places two silvers on the counter and smiles broadly before leaving. Dieredon then focuses his attention on returning to his home to work on the three snares, but first he would need to see Margie Tollwoad.
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Wiscara sat cross-legged on the grass outside their home. It was a small place. Just enough for the two of them to be comfortable. One bedroom with their mattresses for sleeping. One main room for everything else and one for storage. There was a garden three-score feet away. Producing much of their food. The rest they sold in the village market each month. A worn dirt path several hundred feet long led to the river where they would wash and clean. Her mother sat in front of her. Leading their meditation session on this early morning. It always was the same, close your eyes, imagine a flame inside you and focus on that and only that. Feed it with everything in you until you are empty. Still. Calm. In control. It was not as easy as one might think. Cara often struggled, even though she had been practising for many years. She wished it to be as easy as it was for her mother. A druid must do this everyday if they wanted to become one with nature. You cannot be impatient. Patience was something she still learned. Her mother claimed this also but Cara did not believe her. She was one of the most patient beings she knew. Why would she still need to learn?
The ceremony would be soon. In two days she would become a druid just like her mother. The elder Maetaur had approved her initiation and told her to return to them in one week with those she wanted to witness. She would only want her mother to be there. Besides, everyone was too busy preparing for the festival. There was much to be done. They would be there, as every year. Donating their extra produce for the feast.
The grass flowed with the breeze, she could sense it against her face. Almost as if she was the grass, the bend of the stalks, the release of the seeds to float through the air. Producing the next generation of flowers. Such a simple life, and easy. She felt like this when she managed to become the flame inside. She breathed in and out. They opened their eyes at the same moment. Their meditation complete, they arose and ate. A meager amount of fruit, water and nuts this morning. It would be a good day. The sun was rising...
Phineas listened to the boys tale about Mr Panforey and the O'Lehig's. He jumped to, mushrooms scattering all about, as he began to hurridly scramble out of the marshy spots and back toward the road. Suddenly, he stopped and eyed the boys with an eyebrow raised,"Say, you wouldn't be fooling poor Brother Phineas today would ya now? I remember the last time you pulled a fast one on me about that cow and it's calf with 2 heads. You rascals laughed about that for a week. Now, tell true, is Mr Panforey really lookin' for me?"
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
Normally, Phineas was a pretty keen judge of character, but something about these boys made him nervous and he had a hard time telling pranks from truth with them."Oh well, think I've picked enough 'shrooms today anyway. No harm in heading over Riverside to see if Mr Panforey is really needin' me," he thought.
"Guess I'm done picking here anyway, so I'll head back to town. You two watch yourselves now...and don't forget to say your prayers at night," he added as a quick afterthought. "Never too late to start shepherdin' the flock," he thought. "That bit about the prayers, was really quite clever." He smiled to himself, and picked up the pace down the road to Riverside.
On the way into town square where preparations where still underway, Phineas saw ahead of him a herd of sheep being let out into the meadow to graze. "Maybe it's Lizzie's flock, sure hope so,"he thought to himself and unconsciously ran a hand throught his bright red, unruly mop. Sure enough, he saw fair Elizabeth Goodwell out driving the sheep, but to his horror, there she was holding hands with Roan, the innkeepers' son.
Trying to keep his composure and act naturally, Phineas passed the couple and nodded sagely. "Mornin' Lizzie..., i mean Miss Elizabeth. Mornin' Roan. Off to do the Lame God's work, it's always somethin'"..
Trying to keep his hammering heart in his chest, Phineas picked up speed approaching the Gathering Tree and the newly erected stage which was in the finishing stages. "Now why is the prettiest girl in the village holding hands with that rogue, Roan? And why doesn't she ever notice me? I'll be sure to ask her to dance at the Festival. If I only knew how....
He strode briskly the last few yards to the O'Lehig's place and began to look about for any sign of the priest, his mentor.
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
But his mind was only half on Mr Panforey and half on Lizzie Goodwell, dancing, the Festival, and her bright smile when he held her in his arms for the first time.
The rising sun gave little warmth and the morning breeze took even that away. Still Cara took her daily bath/swim with no hesitation or acknowledgement of the near freezing water. It was a short one though. She had things needing doing. The cow they had purchased last year greeted her with a satisfied grunt. "Missed me yesterday didn't you girl." Cara rubbed her belly while milking her just as Tunip liked.
"Go into the village for me please Cara. I need these scissors sharpened again." She was in vain trying to cut strips of colourful cloth for the skirt she was making for the festival. "Ok. Sure. I'll be back in a few hours." She would have some time to see her friends while the blacksmith repaired the scissors, if he did them first.
As she entered the blacksmiths through the back as she always did, she saw Markus working on something else as she approached. "Morning Markus. You're probably busy as usual, but would you be able to sharpen these here scissors for me. Well for my mother actually," she explained, "Umm, she forgot to give me any coin, but she will be coming through later and will pay you then if that's ok?" She flashed him her best innocent looking smile.
Or maybe you ran off too quickly Cara...
Feel free to ignore and react however you want. You know you always get paid promptly by them and this rarely happens.
Also I like rolling dice.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
As Brother Phineas approaches Connor O’lehig’s house he is immediately troubled. There is a crowd, more than a dozen people are standing in the yard in front of the house. Mister Panforey is among them and when the old priest sees Phineas approaching he moves quickly to meet him.
Mister Panforey reaches out a hand and takes a firm, commanding grip on Phineas’ left forearm, and says in a hushed whisper, “Brother Phineas, go, hurry out to Lakeside and find Auria, the witch, you know her.”
The look on Phineas’ face is questioning (to be certain), and Mister Panforey goes on, explaining as he turns Phineas around and begins walking away from the house, “L’sbbir has fallen ill with some strange affliction, her family, and the Flaherty’s are with her, Connor is by her side, she seems to be out of immediate danger, for the time, but we need her Auria to help us try to identify the ailment, go and find her as quickly as you can, and if you see any of the Mautaur ask one of them to fetch Cicily if she is available.”
suggestion - when addressing your post to a specific Player Character, maybe identify that character by name in Bold to help each other spot and respond to those messages. I am very encouraged by the interaction so far, really making a living village here. If something should challenge Woodbridge, in the future, I can see the whole of you being genuinely concerned for the community.
Phineas is startled by the news and the request for the renowned witch of Woodbridge. "Sir, are you sure you want the Witch for this issue? Repectfully, sir, why? Shouldn't we be doin' all we can an offerin' our prayers to Mithras to intervene on our behalf with the Alara, the Life-ender to spare poor L'sbbir? What does the dark magic of that witch offer that our prayers cannot? Everyone knows she maimed herself in some sacrificial ritual, how will she help now?"
"I will do as you ask, sir, but please explain this to me..."
Phineas stops to face the older man with a questioning look on his face.
Dieredon makes his way back out of town, and as he crosses the bridge, he is deep in thought on where and how to best place the Beaver snares. He also hopes to get some hunting in before nightfall.
When he reaches the Lakeside area, he stops by the home of his friend, the soon to be druid Cara, but he finds that she is not at home, having gone to town earlier in the morning.
Hmmm...must have just miss crossing her path. Wished that I could have been by earlier to catch a glimpse of her during her daily bathing routine from afar.
He smiled broadly to himself as he thought of Cara. He knew that she could never know of his observations. She would no doubt take offense to such an intrusion, and he did not want to damage their growing friendship. Nonetheless, Dieredon is able to pleasantly inquire with her mother as to the residence of Miss Tollwoad. As it turns out, the home was just a stone's throw from his very own, and he was sure that he had seen her in the past, but simply did not know her name. he approached the front door, but stopped several feet from it.
Good morning, and hail the house! It is I, Dieredon D'atarisian, Hunter and Trapper, come from Lulu at the Bread and Board. I seek Miss Tollwoad.
After agreeing to job to be done, Marcus sees Dieredon out. Upon leaving, Marcus gets right to work on the clamps for his client. He searches through his various molds he has for similar items. Marcus settles on what he feels should work, then grabs enough iron ore to make his order.
Marcus get the fire going real hot, as sweat drop from his brow. Marcus melts the ore the pours the molten liquid into a mold and secures all opens isn't so no liquid escapes. To ensure that when tempered in the water, the clamps will hold shape and not be cracked.
The first snare part comes out perfect, so Marcus just repeats the process a few more times. Marcus, much to even his surprise creates 3 flawless snares for Dieredon. Marcus, being pleased with his work, and knowing his client will approve as well, cleans up the mess he made. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he cleans the molds out so they are ready should they be needed again, then cleans the ladels and other tools he used.
The nearest forest is in the north right?
During the day between fishing and hunting in the woods, Poseus returns with his fishing haul to the small Gymnaga village. Some faces stare at him as he slides past, looking with approval at his catch.
"Jellika, mom, dad! I've got supper with me"
His mother and sister coming out of the living room area, look in amazement. "That's the biggest haul you have ever had", his sister said. "At the least in some time, Jellika. Welcome back Poseus, your father is still busy in the gardens, but he will certainly appreciate the evening meal"
"With such a good haul, I'd share the biggest salmon from today with the rest of the village. The other I'll trade in Woodbridge tomorrow"
He looked rather edgy as he looked at the sun about to set, clearly the day was almost over.
"I'm going to hunt near the forest, save me some dinner okay?"
His mother just nodded, Jellika on the other hand hugged him tightly "Just be careful big bro" He smiled at her before he grabbed his spears and knife again, made sure his belt was put on right and went out again.
Deciding to swim to Woodbridge in the river instead of slithering, he dove into the water, spears tied to his back. A sight many in Woodbridge had seen before, most of them didn't pay any attention to him as he swam through the village.
He passes the village late in the afternoon, I'm ahead a bit in the day
Mister Panforey lowers his head, and says, “Yes. Yes you have good points,” but then he looks up, right into Phineas’ eyes and continues, “What everyone knows about Auria doesn’t concern me and it shouldn’t concern you either. Gossip is Balisarius handmaiden. No, you are, you make good points and you understand more than many people twice you age, but Phineas, she’s, she’s a good woman, no matter what you might have heard, and she knows things, more than I do, more than you do. The village depends on her, and Cicily, as much they depend on you, even if they don’t take me seriously. Please, Brother Phineas, go, find the witch, be respectful, she will help.”
Meanwhile, across the village, at Lakeside
Tammy Toolwoad comes out of her house, dusting the flour off of her hands with her apron. She is a woman of about thirty five or maybe forty, it is not always for an Alodoan to tell the age of the locals, they tend to look older than their years. She is a pretty woman, slender, and with a sunny face and long brown hair. Her eyes are brown, and large, and she has freckles on her cheeks and across her nose.
“Good morning, Master D’artarisian,” she says, pronouncing your name well, with only a slight hint of her accent. “I heard a voice calling for Miss Tollwoad, and I thought some stranger was calling for me.” She does not leave the space under the porch of the small cottage, and turns and opens the door that had closed behind her, and calls, “Mother, Master D’artarisian is here to see you. He must have got you message from Lulu.”
When her mother comes to the door, she joins her as they walk a few steps across the yard to stand where you are, as Maggie begins to speak, he daughter stares up at you with interest.
“Sir, the name is pronounced tool WHOA ad,” she says kindly, with no malice. “Tool, like a tool you use to do work with, not toll. I don’t know what a toll is, and you stress the Whoa, in the middle. It’s kind of you to come see me. If I can afford it I hope to buy out Wuda of her leather and make summer vest for folk. I’ve been working on an oiling method that might make it very good at shedding water without losing that softness folks are so fond of in that imported leather and with beaver pelt trimming it’ll be grand, just grand. Do you think you can trap me four or five large ones? I need about nine square feet of beaver fur.”
Marcus starts his preparations to open up shop and forge. He is focused on the duties at hand and zoned out, until he hears Cara's voice from behind him.
Slightly startled from the her voice, Oh, it's just you, you scared me little Wiscara. I wasn't expecting anyone so early in the morning, but any possible business and work is good work. I was just finishing up getting ready to open up shop and help out where needed. What brings you to the my father's humble little smith? Marcus says with a smile, while his heart slows down from the sudden shock.
So sorry for the mispronunciation, Mrs. Toolwoad. I will certainly try to recover the skins for you at the price you mentioned to Lulu. I will have the snares ready and set them this afternoon to the north along the river. By Saturday next should certainly not be a problem. I just wanted to confirm that we has a deal, in person, and all.
After straightening things out with Mrs. Toolwoad, Dieredon return to his home to put the snares together and pack his things for a hunting trip after setting the snares. As it turned to afternoon, he stood and stretched. It was past time he returned to Marcus to collect his clips for the snares.
She smiles when sees him startled and frowns when he calls her little. "I'm as tall as my mother actually, I have grown alot the last few years." she corrects him. It is true that she is still shorter than average though, "These scissors, could you sharpen them for us? Mother is trying to make something for the festival and she prefers not to use a knife to cut the special material she bought the other day..." her voice turns quiet and you don't catch the rest of what she said. Her eyes are on some of the tools around the shop. Taking the earth and shaping it to other uses is a mystery to her, as if a part of nature that she doesn't understand. "I don't have payment for you. I will, return with it though. Mother will pay for it." She hands him the scissors.
I meant nothing negative by the "little" comment. Sorry to make you sad. Yes, however to the task at hand. I would be more than happy to sharpen the scissors and won't take longer than 30 minutes if you have the spare time. And your mother can pay us a copper piece whenever she has the chance, I see no issue with that.
Phineas looks hurt when Mr Panforey chastises him about gossip for he knows that his mentor is right. He then recovers and is full of pride when he is complimented on his wisdom, nodding sagely along with the village priest. Finally, he draws himself up and says"Not to worry Mr Panforey, sir, I will find the Witch Auria and bring her here. I will also try to find this Cicily you speak of though I do not know her. You know you can count on me."
With that Phineas turns and half-runs back through the square to the place he began is day --over Lakeside. He remembered briefly seeing the one-handed enchantress there earlier today talking to Mr Flynn.
"I wonder how she really lost her hand. I bet she had to sacrifice it to Belisarius, she certainly is touched by him," he thinks to himself, making the sign of Mithras' protection as he opened her little gate and went up to the door."I wonder if she has the glammer in her? I felt it myself when I healed Trever Longplank t' other day, but I just felt that as a gift of the Gods. Wonder if old Auria's magic is the same?"
Gathering his courage and drawing a deep breath he hesitantly rapped on the door with his knuckles and called out Auria, are you at home? We have need of you at once."
"Thankyou, I'll return shortly," she said and dashed out the front door. Children ran past her laughing, bumping into her as they went. She almost tripped over them, they only made it to her waist. She straightened her woolen leggings and continued down the street, seeking out her friend Elizabeth Goodwell. She asked if anyone had seen her. Trying to avoid being pressed to help with any preparations for now. She would have to go back home rather soon.
After bidding the Toolwoad's a pleasant day and completing his portion of the snares, Dieredon returns to Woodbridge proper. He makes haste to the shop of Marcus to recover his craftwork.
Good afternoon, Marcus. How are we doing with the crafting? Let's have a look.
Marcus hands over the clips, and Dieredon takes out the snares and fits the clips to them, seemlessly.
A fine job, Marcus! Thank you for the service. Here are the additional two Silvers that I promised. I know that you only charged me three, but I believe in rewarding such workmanship as this accordingly.
Dieredon slides two more silvers across the table to complete the transaction.
Dieredon nods with a smile to marcus.
Well, I am off to the northern ponds to set these and try to scare up some game. Maybe I will see you this evening at the Bread and Board if you have a mind for a dring, Marcus. I'll buy you one and we can discuss your work on my armor.
Dieredon half bows, and heads north of Woodbridge to the beaver ponds and carefully sets the three snares.
Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Dieredon, then quietly leaves the ponds, draws his bow, and begins to try and pick up the trail of some game. He hopes that he is lucky bringing down something large that he can donate to the festival.
Survival: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 5 + 1 = 12
Dieredon notices that the river up to the beaver ponds is unusually quiet, it might have been that something swam past this just recently
At the forest Dieredon is surprised to see a young Gymnaga prowling on a rabbit, a spear at the ready, throwing it over 40 ft distance and striking the critter squarely in the back.
Slowly Poseus glides over to the rabbit "Thank you for your help in the bountiful hunt of today Talagos", he mutters as he bends over the fresh kill. He gathers some string from his belt and binds the rabbit to one of his spears, holding the spear on his right shoulder as he glances around the edge of the woods for danger or more prey.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Spotting the figure coming up from the beaver ponds he guesses it is someone from Woodbridge and waves a hand to him or her and slithers away from the forest's edge closer to him/her
If it is earlier on the day that you hunt Dieredon, you might rather see me coming to hunt than hunting already
Well met, and who might you be? I am Dieredon D'atarisian, of Lakeside at Woodbridge. I hope that you left me some game. That was some kill.
That appears to be one of those Gymnagas, unless I am mistaken. Interesting creatures, but I do not recall many hunters among them. Hmph...I should use this opportunity to find out as much as I can about them, or at least befriend one, so that I can inform Castletown about their ways.
"Hail and well met Dieredon... D'atarian? It is not a name I heard before, are you new to Woodbridge? You are ... an ... Elf yes? My name is Poseus Murandae, I come from the place known to people of Woodbridge as MacNorra's Ruins, just south of town"
Poseus looks at Dieredon a bit puzzled, then looks to the rabbit on his spear.
"I got lucky today I guess, caught enough fish to feed the village for a few days, and a rabbit to top it off. Do not worry, I have not made such a noise to scare away all game."
Very good then, i am going to see if I can scare something up. You may feel free to join me if you like? I have heard of the Ruins, but I have never visited. I have lived in Lakeside for a few years now, having traveled here from Castletown.
I have been meaning to take a look at those Ruins.
Chance's eyes glint curiously as he jots down notes in one of his journals, carefully studying the behavior of the turkey in front of him. He had found a perfect spot to hide: just inside a small patch of bushes that have a makeshift window. It is just big enough to fit both himself and Welkin in it comfortably, and it still keeps them hidden from all sides. while the small "window" itself allows Chance to watch the turkey without having to move branches out of the way every time he wanted to look at it. Welkin is fast asleep, curled up beside Chance.
The crafting of Dieredon's clasps took lees time then Marcus had originally thought. With the extra time he decided to grab a white stone and start sharpening the scissors for Wiscara so her mother could finish up her project. He knows better than anyone that improper tools will shred leather and ruin faster tha anythis else.
After 20 or so minutes and a few good passes over the whet stone, the scissors are sharp as new again.
1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26
Diplomacy(gather information): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
After asking several different people who were all to busy to possibly know where Elizabeth might be and didn't have time to talk to her, she decided to find her herself. As she walked through the village however she noticed the priests apprentice running through and wondered what had happened.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
He seemed in quite a rush, running towards something but away from something also. What's the emergency? she wondered. Deciding to put off finding Elizabeth for the moment she went in the direction Phineas had come from. After not too long she comes to the O'lehig house and finds a group outside on the yard and mister Panforey seems to be in charge. Is someone dead? No don't jump to the worst conclusion Cara... She waits till he has a free moment before interrupting Panforey .
"is everything ok here mister Panforey? What's happening? she says.
"I am intrigued to see how other people hunt, Dieredon, especially archery."
Poseus looks at the shortbow in the elf's hand with a gaze of wonder on his face.
"Castletown? I have heard the local people talk about it, sadly I have never been further than these woods here."
Auria opens the door to her cottage. She is a short woman, and with her right hand she leans heavily on a staff that is gnarled and twisted. Her left hand is hidden in the folds of a billowing shawl of wool that has been dyed green and gold. The staff is carved with images of various birds and fish, and the top of it is shaped into the head of a wolf. Auria has dark skin, darker than most of the people in Woodbridge, and silvery grey hair. Her face shows the signs of age, but it is said she is older than she looks. Her eyes are clear and bright blue, an uncommon color for people of Woodbridge. She has a small nose and a wide mouth.
”Good morning Phineas, I’ve been waiting for you, and putting together a few things,” she says as she turns sideways and indicates a large handbag on the floor of her cottage, ”please take my bag for me and we’ll get back to Panforey now.”
Phineas’ expression is serious and his eyes are looking straight ahead as he runs past, telling Wiscara that the young man is on an errand from Mister Panforey for certain.
When Wiscara addresses Mister Panforey, he is looking off in the direction where Phineas has run, and hearing her voice seems to bring him out of a fog, lost in his own thoughts.
”Young Miss Gresham, yes, yes, everything is under control, but thank the gods you’ve come by. Dear, I need your help. Can you run off to the Maetaur settlement and ask Cicily and Dominic to come to the O’lehig house as soon as they can? You know them, and I’m afraid Phineas does not. Connor’s wife has suffered an accident, or is sick, I can’t tell, but Cicily will know more about these things than I do. I’ve sent Brother Phineas to bring Auria here as well. We need the best healers in the community I fear.”
It was the crack of dawn when Abram's rooster crowed, in a moment of anger and malaise a magical clamp found its way reflexively prestidigitated on the shrilling beak. He was awoken again, moments later, to the violent pecking of an angry, silent, rooster on his face. That's it! your fired! Abram ran the chicken from his cottage,still in his night clothes, to the small wooded area behind the house I promised you all the hens you could ever want! good luck finding another job who will pay your wage in women! as the rooster gained a healthy lead, Abram stopped and readied his sling. He'd grown to favor the weapon when he realized that nobody expects a small rock to hurt as bad as it does! just as the bullet was released from the thong, a fox bolted from the bushes, ,caught the rooster by the neck, and quickly ran from sight, narrowly missed by the rock.
well I guess its time for a new rooster,now if only i had something to trade.I'll search the house for some treasures,not including myself, that someone in town would want after a bit of searching , Abram settled on an old book titled "so you want to be a bard", about 10 ft. of fishing line, and his old bedroll from his wandering days. He spends his morning asking around town for a rooster to barter
Phineas is taken aback by the witch's response. "How did she know my name? How did she know I was coming? How did she know what to pack or that Mr Panforey even needed her?". He quickly realized her powers were more potent than he believed. Sure he heard the stories of her turning the town bully into a frog or of creating a love potion here or there. Maybe even communing with some spirits, be they good (he hoped) or evil (he thought more likely), but to actually know a thing before it happened...well that was? Well, that was....'magic'. Something to be watched, and certainly something to be feared. He surreptitiously made the sign of protection behind his back and prayed quickly that Mr Panforey knew what he was doing.
"Alright, Miss Auria,"he said. "I'll carry your bag, lets get along now back to the O'Lehig's. Turns out L'sbbir's taken up with some illness and Mr Panforey is requesting you to come and see it. What do you think it could be?".
Phineas stoops to shoulder the bag and shivering slightly, he offers his arm to the elderly witch, in case she needs assistance to make the trek across town. At her touch, a chill runs down his spine and as he tries not to let his fear and discomfort show. "Just breath, Phineas, it'll all be over soon," he thinks to himself, straightening up.
He leads her back through the square and to within sight of the small crowd gathered around the Connor's house. "Miss Auria?" he croaks the words coming out cracked and small. "Do you know where I might find the Metaur named Cicily? Panforey asked me to find her as well, but I don't know where to begin to look?".