Each story has a beginning. Ours takes place on a day that dawns damp and slightly chilly, reminding each of you that Spring has really only just arrived. A thick fog is spread over the Glade, causing vision to be hampered more than five feet or so ahead. Dark shapes move in the mist, the forms of Gladesmen quietly going about their morning routines. Most of the traffic leads to the fire pits, as breakfast is soon to be served there. Doves sing softly from the trees overhead, as nature wipes the sleep from it's eyes.
Ryarg tumbles out of "bed" an hour before the dawn. Bern looks at him and groans, burying his nose in his paws. "Hangover, huh? Serves you right," he mutters. He deposits a large bowl of water in front of his companion and heads out the door.
He breathes deeply of the fresh morning air. Knowledge nature:
"It's going to be a nice day," he calls back inside. "Try not to sleep through it."
Ryarg heads off to check his wines, offer prayers for his spells, and then in search of breakfast. Bern strolls bleary-eyed down to the fire pits.
Two-Fisted wakes in a daze, feeling like cotton is stuffed into his head.
A little too much fun last night. Oh well...work hard...play hard...like all Gladesmen.
Two-Fisted walks to the nearest cool running stream and after plunging his head deep underwater miultiple times, he can feel the hangover subsiding. He goes through the motions of a short, vigorous workout with his Double Axe. He practices his forms of battle in the solitude of the forest, and he gradually becomes one with the weapon. After sweating out a good deal of the alcohol, he strips down and once again cleans himself quickly in the fresh water. He dons his clothing and returns to the firepits to see what the breakfast meeting has in store for him.
Good morning Ryarg...where's Bern?
"Sleeping off all the mead you gave him last night," Ryarg mutters into his beard.
Ragar knows Ryarg, so he knows that the dwarf isn't angry or upset about his hungover companion; this is just how he is.
Telias awakens firs tthing in the morning taking in the cool mist. He lies there for a few moments taking in the sounds of the morning birds squirrels squabbling over territory. He checked over his equipment and made notes to get back to certain families another day. Telias preferred to sleep deep within the woods and almost never in the same spot twice.
He made his way back to the main gathering noting that many gladesman would likely wake up in the woods after drunken stumbling towards there home. Most were competent enough woodsman to find their way back. Others he had no doubt would be found by the competent ones. For now he went to the meeting in silence.
Tom wakes early. A thin roof and squirrels tends to see to that.
He makes himself a strong cup of bitter-root tea and begins to study his spells for the day.
Once done with that chore and likely a second cup, he removes a red wooden ring from his hand and contemplates it for a few moments.
"No, bern will be in a bad mood and you would tease him. Soon though"
With Tom returns the book to the shelf and heads out to breakfast.
The business of the morning taken care of, you meet at the fire pits. These three large fires are kept burning constantly, although overnight they are allowed to die down to embers before being ressurected the next morning. Several women supervise the roasting of meat and poaching of eggs militantly, ensuring that all the meals are surpassingly delicious. The familiar drone of quiet conversation fills the air, pierced occasionally by the sound of hammers from the wider Glade. Above, a large opening in the forest canopy allows the heat and smoke of the fires to escape.
Fyrwyn, standing with Banatar and Delwin, notes your arrival. She waves over to the side of the clearing, to a narrow and little-used footpath that leads into the woods. She says a few words to Banatar, who nods in response. Fyrwyn and Delwin head toward the trail.
The path ends in a small clearing. Once everyone arrives - Bern included - Fyrwyn address the party.
Thanks for coming, Gladesmen. It is unusual for me to hold an audience like this, but there are aspects of what I'm about to disclose - what Delwin is about to disclose, really - that warrant some degree of secrecy, even among our fellow Gladesmen. Some of you may wonder why I wouldn't ask this favor of more experienced Gladesmen, and the answer to that is twofold. First, the older men have predispositions I would rather avoid. Second, you are all capable men and worthy of our trust - far more capable, I would suspect, than you would willingly admit. Which is in and of itself a virtue.
She nods almost imperceptibly to Delwin. He nods, and turns toward you.
Delwin clears his throat, and begins to speak.
It's like this - I've been contacted through back channels by a prominent Molthuni citizen, a friend of a friend, you might say. This partic'lar citizen, name of Rhypharr, happens to be a Teldas - which makes him a relative of the Imperial Gov'ner, right? His cousin, t' be precise. Well, Rypharr wants out. He's not at all happy with 'is life in Molthune. Doesn't care for 'is cousin's way of doing things, yeh see? Doesn't like where Molthune's headed. Wants t' be well shut of the place, and I'll be damned if I can blame 'im. Can you?
At this last, he raises an eyebrow - as if daring each of you to inspect how much you value your own freedom.
Rhypharr's a good lad - a leader, even, in time, if what I hear is correct - but he's not got 'is feet on the ground. He's young, and he hasn't the resources nor the contacts to escape from under 'is brother's thumb. He's got one man he trusts, and that man happens to be an old friend of mine from way back - back when I knew Fyrwyn before.
Anyway, he needs to be smuggled out of the country. He's agreed to come here and live as one of you Gladesmen - in fact, from what I'm told, he'd like nothing more. He'd be an asset t' The Glade, here, and t' all of Nirmathas if he can be brought here safely and secretly. If it goes wrong, though - well, it can't go wrong. That'd be bad for all involved parties, if you take my meaning.
He looks at Fyrwyn, clearly finished, at least for the time being. She turns her attention back to you.
A fair tale, and fairly told. When Delwin came to me with this information, I was originally going to simply decline. These are large matters, often taken on by those more powerful than we. But last night, I began to think. What would any of us do without our freedom? None of us here are subject to the pressures of our old lives - this is the Vow of The Glade. If, say, Forest Marshal Gavirk were to become involved in any way and this operation were to run foul, it would risk more war between Molthune and Nirmathas. While I'm not afraid of any Molthuni, I value the lives of my countrymen, and would not see them ended in large numbers if I could prevent it. Still, I feel that we should try to help this young man, and I'd like it to be you four that go. I can think of no more fitting band of Gladesmen. It is dangerous. What say you, Gladesmen? Will you go?
Telias listened to the tale but could scarcely believe what he was hearing even if it was true. "I must admit I don't like this particular task. Assuming we manage to make our way to Molthune and manage to spirit away this wayward noble without an army at our back I fear we may be bringing a venomous snake into our midst whose head we'd be forced to remove but not before its venom is felt. Still..." Telias sighs and listens to the birds for a moment feeling somewhat jealous that their tiny brains left no room for petty human politics. "I suppose if I refuse to go you will merely find another capable woodsman who might not take the same care I would. I only hope such a high born man listens better about stepping into raccoon dens than children. Particularly if there's a chance of having to outrace arrows. I will go."
Ragar looks long and hard at Delwin, then listens intently to Telias.
What is Telias trying to say? I only care that he is willing to go. I value his skills as a strategic leader and combatant. No one should suffer a lack of freedom...this I know all too well.
He turns his attention to Fyrwyn. He twirls his Double Axe deftly in front of him.
Count me in! Every man should be free!
Sense Motive:
Ryarg nods agreement as Delwin speaks, then turns to Telias and mumbles, "You can't assume all Molthuni are treacherous, just like not all elves are flighty, or all dwarves are grumpy and drunken."
That's probably one of the longest sentences you"ve ever heard out of Ryarg.
"I'm in," he grumbles to Delwin.
I am undecided. There is a bit of smoke and mirrors in your tale fairly told. If we are going to sneak across a border and kidnap a noble, willing though he may be. I think we deserve to know the whole story before we walk to our deaths.
Am I wrong?
Delwin reddens and looks angrily at Tom, then at Fyrwyn. She shrugs, and responds.
I will break our law for you this once, Tom of Redfield. Delwin and I are brother and sister. Since I've told you that in times past he was the scion of a noble, I've now told you a matter of interest about my own past, haven't I? And we don't do that here, but I've done it anyway, because you couldn't have known what you were asking. So that's alright. But that's what Del was leaving out, and why he was leaving it out. Does it help you to make your decision?
Tom lets the anger flow past him.
"Almost. Just one illegal question more. Why should we trust your old friend. The apparent sole source of information on this matter and someone deep in the Molthune power structure."
"You say you have asked us here because we are capable. Well if I am capable it is because of my brain and this capable organ is telling me that this is an excellent way to start a war. I assume you have considered the likelihood that either your source or someone in the line from him to you has been compromised and this story of the pampered aristocrat whose greatest desire is to five in the mud with us comes not from your good friend but from the Molthune high command. A kidnapping attempt on a cousin of the leader would be enough to mobilize their armies. I am not saying the story is false but it is convenient and that makes me very cautious."
"Tom only speaks in fear of the future, Fyrwyn. Though I resent the living in the mud remark. We are not speaking of harboring men with shady pasts looking for a new life. We are thinking of harboring a man whose present involves our chosen nations sworn enemy."
Two-Fisted growls deeply and looks to Tom and Telias.
Maybe too much talk and not enough action. Tom, Delwin is Fyrwyn's brother, and we trust her...that should be enough, no?
Fyrwyn takes two small steps toward Tom.
The questions are not, as you say, "illegal", Tom. If I didn't expect you of all those here assembled to be the most wary and curious, I wouldn't have invited you. I understand your concerns - I do. And yes, I share them. But this young man is coming here - he knows of our existance and roughly where we are - and I'm not going to deny him succor, because to do so is not our way. He can either try to blunder over the border in the right place and find us on his own, or we can reach out and help him. I would prefer to be a friend to him - maybe I'm wrong for feeling that way, but it is the way I feel.
Delwin, who had been intently studying his feet, now looks up and speaks again.
'An look, lads, it's not like I'm suggesting you walk into Canorate and face off against the Imperial Army in group combat. Rhypharr has a country home he'll be at, waiting for you to arrive. He'll sneak out and leave with yeh in the night, and you'll merely have to navigate back through the Plains - farms, most o' it - to get back over to Nirmathas. Remember, too - Rypharr's a cousin o' Markwin Teldas, not a younger brother or a General Lord. It's possible that they may try to scry him to see where he's gone, but without a ransom demand or some such, there's little liklihood Molthune'll come after him. Assuming he's expatriated quietly, of course, and not caught before he's out of the country. This isn't the certain doom you're imagining. Fyrwyn is tellin' you it's dangerous because it is - but it's hardly suicide, if you're taking my meaning. It's just a job that takes some brave folks for the doing of it.
Tom smiles and shakes his head rufully.
"I must be getting prematurely crotchety, occupational hazard I'm afraid. I still think there is more to this than we've heard, but I accept there may be good reasons for that."
"I'm in, and I hope this is as simple as it appears."
It's quite alright, Tom. Indeed, there may be more to it than even Del or I know, but I think it's worth a risk to see a man escape from our heavy handed neighbors to the East. I also hope it proves to be as simple as Del says, though nothing in life goes completely smoothly, does it?
An' I'm sorry for pressin' the issue, lads, but when d'you plan t' leave? I'll need to get word back to Martin - that's my ol' friend, mind - as to when the young man will need to be at his country home. He can go for a week or so without arousing any suspicion whatsoever, so you'll have a window of time to get to 'im, and you can do it how you please. I'll make sure he's there - you do the rest.
I'll make sure he's there - you do the rest.[/b]
Tom's face goes still as he concentrates.
"Well as to how I expect we will all have questions. I wonder if there are any 'unofficial' resources we can draw on."
"Horses might be useful. Bribe money if we find a patrol. Some spare clothes for all of us plus the target and his friend if we have to go to ground as pesants. At the very least spare clothes for the target and the friend to limit the effectiveness of the simpler location magics. That is one thing you need to stress to your friends. They can bring nothing unique with them. Such things can lead searchers to us well before the border."
"We will need a way to identify the target and the friend. Something only they will know but not something that you remind him about after this conversation in case communication is compromised."
"A map of the area, food and water, general supplies. Could we lay some extra traps or have a forest patrol just this side of the border in case things go wrong and we come out hot."
"Speaking of hot, some alchemists fire would be useful in case we need to torch the lodge as a distraction or to cover our tracks."
Tom shows no sign of stopping
As Tom's diatribe continues, Fyrwyn's left eyebrow continues to rise, until it is almost touching her hairline. She clearly is unsure whether to take Tom seriously or not.
Tom notices everyone staring and blushes.
"...Sorry I tend to get carried away, another occupational hazard. But we will need supplies and horses if the lodge is any distance from the border. Some bloodblock and a healing kit would also help."
"As far as when I am ready to go now. Assuming someone can look in at the tower everyonce and a while and water what needs it."
In counterpoint to Tom's litany, Ryarg simply adds, "I need my bear. He's hungover."
He leaves to fetch Bern, as well as some basic supplies, and one bottle of wine.
I am ready...now.
Delwin smiles broadly.
Glad t' hear it. Well, I'd better get a message off, then. Here's a map to where you'll be headed. The lodge is fairly deep into the country. It'll take me one day t' get the message to Rhypharr, an' two days for 'im t' get t' 'is country home, and he'll be there for another week after that. As far as I can figure, with no problems, it's a six day journey by horseback, 5 of 'em in Molthune - so you'll have about a three day window should problems arise, hopefully they won't.
You lads'll do fine. I'll see you when you get back.
He heads back down the path, hot on Ryarg's heels. Fyrwyn watches him go, and then adds:
A healing kit shouldn't be a problem, Tom. Let's head back, we'll grab one of those and get you on your way. I'll gladly see to it that your plants are cared for and that nothing else is touched - and of course we'll get you horses.
She heads back down the trail.
Tom will grab Some spare clothes. Any chance he can get a couple of spare sets in case we need to strip the target and friend?
"We will need a way to identify the target and the friend. We can't very well wander the hunting lodge asking folks. We ask the wrong person and the jig is well and truly up"
Map questions. How close is the nearest village or other habitation to the lodge? How old is the map and who made it? Are there any ruins, rivers, or other interesting things between the lodge and then border. how well guarded is this border? Do we have troops patrolling? Do they? Is the border a river, line of hills, edge of a forest or just a line on a map?
Telias nods respectfully to the pair as he takes the map and gives it a thorough going over. and the rest before leaving as he does so he gives Ryarg a small smile. "I only hope Bern is a happy drunk. I don't think I'd want to see a belligerently drunk bear."
With that he leaves gathering himself some breakfast. And packing as much food as he could carry. He had no doubt about his hunting and foraging skills, but he generally only had to feed himself. In the back of his mind he worried
Knowledge Geography
Knowledge Local
Ragar will inquire as to Frywyn providing rations and feed for the horses for the trip. If it is not provided, he will buy 10 days rations for himself.
Upon examining the map provided by Delwin and discussing things with Tom, Telias determines and provides the following information:
The nearest village to the nobleman's country home is about 5 miles away from it to the Southeast, a small town called Firth. To Telias's recollection (only from what he's heard of the place) it probably houses less than 200 people. It is likely that there are one or more homesteads of some sort within a mile, though. These would be likely to be farmhouses. The map itself is not old, although it tends to want to stay curled, indicating that it was tightly wrapped for some period, and fairly recently. It is not signed or attributed to a specific cartographer. There are mostly farmlands between the border and the country house, although who can say what might not show up on a map? There are no rivers, although Telias would not be at all surprised to find a few streams or even a few isolated areas of wetlands.
The border with Molthune is a topic well-known to you all. It follows the southeasternmost reaches of the Fangwood almost until it reaches the Inkwater river (it never quite reaches the river - perhaps 30 miles of open terrain seperate the river from the closest eaves of the forest), and follows the Inkwater until it hits the southern ranges of the Mindspun Mountains. It is not so much patrolled as watched by Nirmathas. There are periodic patrols by Molthune (particularly out of Fort Ramgate), although they are somewhat infrequent as of late.
Map questions.
How many days ride between Deadeye's Haunt and the hunting lodge?
What are the two diamonds and odd shape at Deadeye's Haunt?
How built up are the plains of Molthiune? Empty grasslands or cut into farms/ranches?
How difficult is legal travel in Molthune? Could we for example take a ship from Tamran to Canorate and only have to make one illegal border crossing?
Ryarg comes to look at the map, and without a word, traces a line from the Glade to the western edge of the Witherbark Forest, along the edge, and then to the other 'X'.
Map questions.
How many days ride between Deadeye's Haunt and the hunting lodge?
What are the two diamonds and odd shape at Deadeye's Haunt?
How built up are the plains of Molthiune? Empty grasslands or cut into farms/ranches?
How difficult is legal travel in Molthune? Could we for example take a ship from Tamran to Canorate and only have to make one illegal border crossing?
Telias shrugs at Ryarg's markings. "Really not much to work with here. Can't say I'd do it better myself. Just wish I knew what was in the big marked area of the plains." Telias glances at Tom. "Beyond the obvious I mean. Are we ready to depart?"
Two-Fisted looks over Telias' shoulder at the map, grunts and shrugs his shoulders, and with a toothy smile, says,
Looks like a fun trip!
Local Deadeyeshaunt
local fort ramgate
"That is a good path Ryarg but I wonder.."
Tom looks at Bern....looks at Ragar...
"Yes...this will work."
Two-fisted watches the conversations of the group.
Telias and Ryarg seem to be in agreement as to how to get to the hunting lodge. When it comes to maps, Telias, is the one to ask!
Tom, I agree with Telias on the route. Can we go?
The party takes their leave of the Glade, having seen to all the matters that would preclude a two week journey. Map in hand (although hardly necessary at this point), Telias guides the group through the Fangwood, heading almost due east. After three hours of riding through forest trails of varying degrees of navigability the group nears the southern reaches of the settlement known as Crystalhurst.
Tom Perception without familiar:
Telias Perception:
Two-Fisted Perception:
Knowledge (Nature):
The group notices Ryarg peering at a pair of rabbits that watch the group go by, and later he stops his horse to stare up at a motionless owl.
"That owl should be sleeping, not watching us," Ryarg mutters to whomever comes back to see why he stopped. "There's something familiar about this place, like I've been here before, or heard about it, but I can't put my finger on it."
"Well, you know the woods. Lead on."
Local
Nature
Telias frowns. "Can't say I find that normal. Best to be on our guard for now."
As Telias turns the party to the southeast, the feeling of being watched slowly abates, until it disappears altogether. Soon, the sound of running water can be heard, and the forest gives way to the Marideth River. Almost 100 yards wide at this point, the river flows right-to-left (as you're facing it, not as it is depicted on the map). Fortunately, traffic from nearby Crystalhurst comes this way fairly frequently, and a medium sized dock is moored in the river here, with a small shack standing on the shoreside. A small boat floats in the river, docked near the cabin, and a large floating platform is tied off to the other side of the dock. The platform runs right up against the shoreline. An old man sits on the porch of the shack smoking a pipe.
Everyone can plainly see the anxiety displayed by Two-Fisted as he paces back and forth staring at the moored boat. he is mumbling to himself.
Hate boats...damn boats...hate boats...
Ryarg arches a bushy eyebrow at Ragar's mutterings, but says nothing.
Everyone can plainly see the anxiety displayed by Two-Fisted as he paces back and forth staring at the moored boat. he is mumbling to himself.
Hate boats...damn boats...hate boats...
Aside to Ragar
"Well the raft looks sturdy enough. It's built for wagons so it shouldn't even notice us."
Two-Fisted stops in his pacing tracks and looks at Tom. He smiles.
I hope so...