Molok takes a moment or two to bind his wounds before standing silently watching the group.
Molok stands over 7 feet tall and weight just over 300 pounds. His skin is a light grey color and his head is shaved. His hazel eyes seem more like chips of polished stone than actual eyes. His maul resembles a slab of rough-hewn stone than an actual weapon, and his armor is made of hardened stone scales sewn onto a leather backing.
"Ah, of course! I always seem to confuse the gith. Was always more fascinated with the history of our own world than other ones. That is a very generous offer to allow me a sue of the rod. Would it be possible to talk with my companions to see what they think?"
"They also did seem worried about some sort of *spookiness* in the forest," Pindleton adds with a mock waving of his fingers. "But I suppose with some of the strange things we've seen, I should probably make sure they aren't getting into trouble. So if we come by in, say, an hour or two, would that work? I could perhaps even talk one of them into helping move the heavy thing if you like."
Pindleton welcomes the others and thanks them for the help with the oni. "Thank you for the assistance with that creature. I know I sure wasn't much help! I am Pindleton Montague IV of the famed Montague explorers - if you've heard of them, although they have explored more of the South. I've followed in the family tradition and am a bit of a scholar and dungeon explorer myself, which is what brought me into the company of these fine folk."
"Also, I almost forgot to mention in the chaos, but one of those giants had a magical rod. I was examining it earlier and it appears that it can help us locate any particular object nearby. It even seems to be oddly attuned to adamantine." Pindleton shrugs. "Someone else managed to claim it first, and given explorer's code, I relinquished any claim to it myself. But he was kind enough to let me have a single use of it. So... anything we want to find? Not sure it would work much beyond town. The attackers seemed less interested in destroying the town than possibly trying to recover something, which, if I recall, matches the descriptions of what happened in other towns and would explain why a giant would bring a magical rod like that along. Anyone have any idea what they might have been looking for?"
Having listened to Pindleton's discussion about his use of the rod. He follows the other halfing till he meets up with his other group.
Seeing him approach a small group of others. Seeing them as, as close as he can tell, adventurers. He walks forward to the group.
"Ahem.. Excuse me, sirs. I would like to introduce myself. My name is Dymmathy Flintworth. I have, recently, become very interested in your group of adventurers. I know there has been some drama around this area. I would love to offer my services to you. I won't charge, of course. I mean, a fair share of any adventuring treasure would go to me of course."
Assume I am given a bit of an odd look by the group.
"Oh, sorry.. I have not told you of my capabilities. I am a capable spell caster, of sorts. I also seem to have a knack for thwarting others, while giving my friends boons. I do believe I will be of some use to you all... What say you?
I look around expectantly. Making solid eye contact with everyone one by one. Large grin on my face.
The large stone-like man looks over the gathering of people and in a deep resonate voice says;
"I am Molek of the Granite Fist Tribe from the area around Red Larch. I was sent by the Lord's Alliance to assist you in your duties."
Jysson welcomes the newcomers in his typical charming way.
Another f~%$ing halfling, huh? Well, your brother over there has more than proved his worth. Used ta think you lot were all useless, but I ain't got so much pride as I cants admit when I'm wrong. If'n your half as useful as he is, you'd be twice as much welcome with us.
The overly muscled elf spits on the ground, satisfied with the compliment he just gave.
Let's see here, what else we got. A human to replace the other one who left. Another half-elf. And a big f+#*er. You, he says, point to Molok, you looks like you got giant in your veins, boy. What the f&~&? Why you so big?
Jysson is nearly as ignorant as he is uncouth, not having recognized the Goliath for what he is.
In addition, he's a bit racist - not out of any malicious thoughts, but rather due to his ignorance.
Despite all that, though, he's a good person, and will sacrifice himself to save others of any race - as recently proven in the battle against the Fire Giants in Triboar.
Looking at the large Molek "Greetings! You sure are a tall one"[b]
Taking every word in stride from the elf.
[b]"Oh don't you worry, I will prove my worth. You sure have a colorful way with your words."
Not an ounce of sarcasm in that last statement, the small halfling seems genuinely intrigued and happy to be around a odd group like this.
"So..."rubbing his hands together."What type of adventure are we going to do! What types of riches are waiting"The excitement seems to be concentrated in his eyes, opening wide with anticipation.
Pindleton, Kolstaag is amiable at this point and mentions "Fine, fine, come along to the Boar's Rest when you can. I will be making preparations for its display...and no, don't trouble yourself, I am more than capable of achieving its translocation!" he lets out a pathetic grunt as he squats to draw the little pull cart.
All, at Pindleton's remark, if you don't have any ideas you can roll a straight int check to possibly get one.
Urth offers his hand in greeting the Dymm, Molok and the white guy called Jax. "Well met, I'm Urth. Urth Stormraven." He introduces himself to each of them.
Urth is a tall Illuskan human with an obviously strong upper body. He has raven black hair and tanned skin indicating a life spent in the sun. He wears splint armor and shoulders a case of crossbow bolts and a backpack with a coil of hempen rope strapped to it. His weapon’s harness carries a longsword, warhammer, light crossbow, and a shield with an emblem of a cloud above three stylized lightning bolts.
"By the Great Beast's Balls, I'm thirsty. Let's get drunk." He starts heading back to Triboar toward a inexpensive drinking establishment.
The stinkiest of stink holes, the grummiest glasses for coppers, the hairiest of women...all can be yours at Triboar's premiere establishment for traveling headsplitters: the Talking Troll. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the fires of the attack stopped just short of consuming the dive.
”Urth, you go right ahead, but I’m going to have to pass. I wound up enjoying myself a bit too much and I could have easily died hungover this morning. But, please enjoy yourself! I just really need nothing stronger than a good tea today.” Pindleton rubs his head, amazed at how much the shock of battle can clear your mind, but also regretting the calm hours later, when the pain returns.
Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the fires of the attack stopped just short of consuming the dive.
You kidding?! That the best news we've heard all day!
|
After making his own introduction, Sohar will forgo an evening at the Talking Troll again. Spending his night in Gwaeron's Slumber, he will try to perceive if the malevolent presence is truly gone. If so, he will warn Darz Helgar about the danger of leaving the grove completely untouched in the morning before meeting his comrades.
Having spent so much time at the Talking Troll lately, Dymm seems unexcited about going back there.
"As tempting as it is to get a few drinks with you. Are any of you doing anything... more "adventury", with your time?" Definitely using air quotes.
Dymm seems to be more excited than he should be. Maybe not quite as experienced as some of you. He might need a shot of reality.
Debauchery like the world has never seen before blossoms left and right about Urth as he drinks away merrily. Behind the chaos of it all, the store's proprietorship argues hotly with an old man who seems quite sober. "What the f!**, Loomshanks. It's 5 gp. F-I-V-E. I've seen little kids covered in lice bilk more than that in one hour."
The old man responds "Those waterpads took it all. Look at my face when I'm talking to you. Not even the means for a proper prayer. I think you forget what it means to begin again from zero."
Urth, by his appearance and his accent, you recognize the other man in the conversation who seems to be the owner as a fellow Illuskan. You also know that "waterpads" is a reference to river pirates.
I will join you, Urth, but first I must do something else. You may join me if you wish.
Jysson takes all the collected bones and clothing/toys/anything of the children slain by the Oni into town.
He doesn't really know how to tell people of what he's doing, so he asks his new friends if they can help. Meanwhile, he digs a grave for all of them at once, and lays the bones down carefully into the ground.
The trinkets he lays about the grave, so family can try to identify their missing children and know they were revenged.
Later, at the bar with Urth, he says, This town is plagued with giant-kin. I know we need to get going for the Harpers, but do you think we can stay for a bit longer and clear out any remaining threats? The people here have suffered enough.
The Stoneman will follow the largest part of the group, keeping silent. In the tavern, he drinks only water and eats sparingly.
Urth shrugs at those who don't want to go drink with him and tells Jysson that he'll meet him at the Troll. He is very perplexed by these adventurers and quests. They sound like homeless nomads to him. Why don't they get jobs? He asks and wonders to himself on his way back to Triboar.
===========================
At the Talking Troll, Urth nurses his small beer and calls over to old man, "Great Brass Balls of the Beast, rukking river pirates?! Hey Geezer, what the ruk do you know about waterpads?" He orders the old man another round from Loomshanks for his answer.
===========================
A little later at the Troll after Jysson has his drink, Urth replies to him, "Who are the rukking Harpers? And what other rukking giant-kin are in this area? I've been in Triboar a rukking month, and that rukking magic ogre was the first that I've seen alive."
Jysson responds to Urths questions as best he can. There were the two fire giants the other day. And Sohar discovered the Oni - tricky bastards. Not surprised no one else found them. Hell, I didn't even see it. Sohar is good like that.
And the Harper's? Dunno. That one chick said she was one. She wants us to go to them and tell em.
Jysson responds to Urths questions as best he can. There were the two fire giants the other day. And Sohar discovered the Oni - tricky bastards. Not surprised no one else found them. Hell, I didn't even see it. Sohar is good like that.
And the Harper's? Dunno. That one chick said she was one. She wants us to go to them and tell em.
"Right. Two dead fire giants and that magic ogre. What else?" Urth is confused. Did Jysson think that was giant-plagued?
A little later, he asks Jysson, "Which chick is a Harper? Is she hawt? Go where, and tell who?"
The old man responds shaking his head in dismay "Nothing, I truly know nothing about them." he says humbly.
Also Urth, as a member of the militia you would no doubt have heard of the huge increase in giant attacks throughout Faerun. Every major city and settlement has been reporting them lately. In fact Yartar, a major riverport and the next town over to the west, was just beset by hill giants. But you might've been too wasted to recall, there seems to be some kind of maize fermentation mixed with the ale here.
A few hours later, when everyone has gathered together, a blood stained country elf barges through the double doors "K-kaelen! Slaughter in the valley...giants! They've laid the Elk Tribe to waste...it was a massacre!" she wheezes and drops to a nearby chair.
Kaelen, the Illuskan owner of the Talking Troll quickly dashes to her side "Renna? Son of a b#~~%! Are you alright?! Becki, don't just stand there you idiot, go fetch the water!" he snaps his fingers at a busty maid.
She continues "We...I had just finished the trade, it was broad daylight. *pant* They surrounded the valley...at least 10 giants! And bugbears, ogres..."
"What?! How did you escape all that?" Kaelen asks in suspense.
She explains how one of the giants tossed a barbarian's dire wolf carcass at the wagon she was hiding under, and it collapsed on top of her. The bar is dead silent for about 30 seconds, but a dwarf farts unexpectedly and everyone starts laughing and pummels him with nearby table clutter.
Molok looks at his new companions.
"Looks like you might need my help for a little bit longer. I will join you to discover what these giants are doing. I am sure the Lord's Alliance will want to know as well."
Looking to the group.
"Sounds perfect. We should help this Elk Tribe. At least clean up a bit. What say you all?"
When people start laughing, Urth stands up and throws his clay mug at a wall shattering clay pieces and splattering the dregs of his small beer.
With everyone's instant attention, he asks the country elf and room, "How do I get to that battlefield quickly? I'm leaving now."
She struggles to collect her thoughts but finally get it out "The hills north of Stone Bridge...the Elk Tribe has a marshalling field for trade."
Urth, you actually know that field because it was part of your patrols-trading with barbarians is generally frowned upon. It's about 40 miles to the southeast, reachable in a day and some change at a fast pace.
Jysson, closer to midnight. You were gathering to plan out the next day before hitting the hay with some drinking it up downstairs, and before Sohar leaves to check if the forest is still affected.
"Well shall we get some sleep, and maybe for a few sober up, and head out tomorrow? Have to say I am pretty dang excited."
Looking around for Pindleton... "Hey, where did that other Halfing go? I thought there was a whole Adamantine rod thing to deal with.. It did look very interesting.."
"That's about 40 miles southeast. Sleep now. We leave at dawn." Urth decides. The Illuskan grabs his gear and heads for the door toward his bunk.
As he passes the impact of the clay mug, he waves his hand and says, "instaurabo." The pieces of mug pull together from their scatter on the floor and leaves a complete mug spinning in place.
A fat man's eyes buldge at the cup reassembling itself "Why, its been made whole!" and others gasp.
Triboar is a major trade hub, tons of caravans come through every day to resupply and organize. You can definitely get anything needed.
Creation Inventory::
splint mail
climber's kit
enchanted dongle
58 gp
Changes::
used 6 gp on food
purchased horse for 40 gp
Party Loot::
potion of healing
It's a brisk morning, and already the town is bustling with activity as caravaner's prepare to set out in all directions. Urth quickly picks up the old patrol trail through the hills, little more than a few spots of bare dirt and some stones piled by hand every mile or 2...still, it works.
The rugged, scruffy hills south of Triboar and Yartar have always provided a safe haven for orcs, ogres, hill giants, manticores, and of course the Uthgardt. Scattered throughout are ancient dwarven ruins, crumbling towers, lost mines, some abandoned hunting lodges all of which you pass in favor of your quarry.
Uthgardts are known throughout the north. A black haired, blue eyed people...large, hale and bloodthirsty with certain inhuman dispositions. They hate magic and orcs, often going out of their way to destroy any encountered.
Though there are numerous tribes, they all take their name from one Uthgar Gardolfsson, a great hero-chief who battled giants and conquered much of the North before ascending to god-hood. Each tribe also reveres a totem animal...and here in the Dessarin you find the Elk Tribe.
They shun civilization, however, the tribe's great chief has aged beyond bloodthirst, and they have had something of an agricultural boom while the younger fighters wait for him to die. Renna was at the field collecting barely for the brewery ostensibly at a very competitive price, but in reality the cost was quite dire.
You reach a long expanse of grass between 2 rocky outcroppings and the sun is setting.
Looking to the sky as it darkens.
"First, I have to say this is great! I am out, adventuring! Thank you.. Second, it's getting rather dark. Shall we set up camp here? I mean.. I COULD keep going, but Grumbles here" Points toward the Mastiff I am riding "could use a good sit."
"Aye, Jysson. Is this a good campsite?" Urth echoes the halfling's question. "I'm more comfortable traveling on water than land."
While waiting for the answer, he focuses on seeing through his familiar's eyes as Fox, his fey raven, soars 100 feet above them.
Examples, assuming no refraction: For an observer on the ground with eye level at h = 5 ft 7 in (1.70 m), the horizon is at a distance of 2.9 miles (4.7 km). For an observer standing on a hill or tower 100 feet (30 m) in height, the horizon is at a distance of 12.2 miles (19.6 km).
Jysson looks for a good place to camp.
Urth, you can see some humanoid shapes moving near a small mudbrick cabin nearby, perhaps 4. Looks like someone is chopping wood out back. You would have to go up and over a few hills to get closer.
Jysson, you find an old but excellent hunting tree stand near a clean pond being supplied by a spring. The stand is actually quite large and could fit 2 people. There are some signs this site has been used before (small burnt pieces of wood, a muddy torn sack) but not recently. There are a few blackberry bushes stuffed between the trunks. Finally a number of odd crystal formations, some as big as a halfling, sprout from the ground...they have a rough bluish appearance with microscopic orange flecks.
A bird *cacaws* loudly nearby.
Waiting till everyone is in the same area, "Hey everyone.. If we are cool resting here for the night I can provide some protection from the wilds. Once I do it though we are good for the night. Only issue is the Horses have to stay outside.. Grumbles can be inside. We can run outside to help them if needed.. Everyone ok with this being our resting spot?
When I can get everyone in the same area. I bring out a small bead of crystal . I wave my hands in a small gesture over the crystal, while singing an interesting harmony. It sounds like it should take more than 1 voice to make.
The bead starts to grow, or at least it looks like it does. Almost a shell expands over the bead growing into a 10 foot radius dome of force around us.