Booj listens attentively to the mayor -- until the food arrives, when he looks eagerly to the platters being brought in.
"Your hospitality we will accept most gratefully. The ruin was a keep, you say? Have you knowledge of who has built such a thing?"
Armand turns to Booj.
"You will join us, comrade? Food must surely be welcome to you."
"Yes, Boss!" Booj, seemingly having lost interest in the kobold conversation, goes to tuck in.
As Jacen tucks into his share of rabbit stew, bread and cheese, he turns to Booj and suggests,
"Well, employment is a step up from slavery, is it not? Just think of all the things you could purchase with kobold gold… like a warm, hand-knitted scarf from that merchant's stall, for instance."
"Nay, I don't know when it was built or by whom. I would guess early on in the wars, as it looks to have been besieged on many occasions. It has all manner of repairs, fallen into disrepair." Mayor Gerus offers, "It is not so much a keep any more, as it is crumbled stone."
"It matters little. We shall discover all. Have you a map? Seljuk is most skilled in planning the assault."
Armand enjoys the rest of the evening, but his head is already filled with daring last stands, falling kobolds and necromancers brought to task.
As Jacen tucks into his share of rabbit stew, bread and cheese, he turns to Booj and suggests,
"Well, employment is a step up from slavery, is it not? Just think of all the things you could purchase with kobold gold… like a warm, hand-knitted scarf from that merchant's stall, for instance."
Booj simply looks confused.
"Aye, if'n ya got a map, or ken draw us one, we ken plan 't out all proper-like."
Seljak appears eager for combat, these past few days of peace do not apparently sit well with his soldiers soul.
Booj simply looks confused.
"Never mind," says Jacen as he shrugs. He decides to find another time to persuade Booj not to just resignedly accept his lot in life.
Armand enjoys the rest of the evening, but his head is already filled with daring last stands, falling kobolds and necromancers brought to task.
Seeing Armand lost in reverie, Jacen stands adjacent to the sorcerer and asks, "Do you think our hooded friend has behind left spies or some sort of welcoming committee?
"Who can say? It is sensible if he does so, after all, but one does not know if he is sensible."
Armand looks at his friend.
"I think only of the honour in conquesting this keep and removing the menace of this despicable restorer of life to the unwilling dead. Think of it, Jacen - this canaille might raise you, or any one of us to unwilling servitude. A slavery worse even than Roedd's for we would not even know ourselves. I grow enraged at the thought."
He is quite unaware of the power starting to crackle out of his fingertips.
After the meal, Booj sits quietly for the evening, seemingly lost in thought.
"We should set out just before dawn, one at a time and as quiet as a mouse. We don't know if everyone here is friendly or if the fort is being watched. No sense in tipping off any scouts."
The mayor shakes his head slowly, "We don't have any maps o' the place, but I'm sure you won't miss it. It is built into the mountainside, about three sides sticking out of a six-sided shape." He thinks for a little before adding "We haven't got close, the kobolds were there since we got to the area, so it's just what we seen from afar." With this he heads out of the building to let the group have some time to themselves, clearing the empty dishes to take with him as he goes.
The morning is gray, a low-lying fog having settled in during the night. The air is a little chilly, and visibility is fairly low. Rising early, not many people are about, a few of the loggers just now coming out to begin work. No one seems to be as curious about your group as they were the night before.
"Brioche?"
Armand pulls slightly stale pastry from his pack and offers half to Booj.
"Thanks, Boss!" The little slave happily munches as they start on the trail.
Yuriel wakes from uneasy dreams of lost ... Something lost... He straps on his bronze fish mail armor carefully but distantly, and does not speak as the group break their fast and make ready to set off.
Seeing Yuriel's unease, the cleric asks: "You seem troubled my friend. What ails you?"
Faint lights move beneath the sea elf's unlined blue skin as he considers Jacen's question. "I am unsure. A poor night's sleep perhaps... I have a sense of unease about this place." Yuriel gestures at the mist laden valley and brooding hills. "This is very different from the sun-bronzed sky and wine-dark seas of my home in the Pelarian Isles. So dark, even in the daytime." The elf's bronze mail sounds softly as he shivers.
Yuriel visibly collects himself. "So, do we follow Roedd's suggestion to leave separately. I am not skilled in woodcraft - how will we regroup?"
Jacen scratches his chin, "Yes, I have that feeling too. It is no coincidence that a dabbler of the dark arts is drawn to a place like this." He points to the aforementioned valley, then frowns at the possibility that each member of the team might end up waiting for the others at a different place.
"Roedd, your idea has much to recommend it. I fear you would be the only one among us capable of leading us through the woods. Instead, perhaps we should take some effort to stow weapons, cover armor, and appear less formidable than we are?"
Yearning to rejoin his pack, Roedd waits until late in the night when everyone has retired and sets out alone for his homeland.
As you gather together in the morning fog, the idea of moving out separately having been presented the night before. After a time you notice that Roedd has not yet made it out, and a quick search does not turn him up. Perhaps he had taken to heart the idea on the option to stick around. The Mayor lumbers up to the group as you return from the cursory search. He has a bundle of cloth in one hand and a leather satchel in the other.
"Well friends, after we spoke last, the community gathered together and gave what they could. Here is what your help would be worth to us." He hands the satchel to Jacen, the unmistakable clink and weight of coin inside. He also unfurls the cloth to display a light grey silken mantle, it appears diaphanous, and smoothly flows with the lightest breeze. "It may not look too sturdy, but this was given by the widow of one of our fallen. He was the best climber and could top a tree faster than anyone I know. It was the favor he wore for her whenever he went off to the woods." He pauses to dip his head in respect "He was killed by the kobolds two months ago, and it was still on his body when they found him and brought him back."
Armand shakes his head regretfully over the disappearance of Roedd.
"Monsieur Beast has departed it appears. We must all continue where our honour leads us and in him the call of the wilderness was most strong."
To Gerus, he bows gracefully, his hat set askew his scarred face.
"We shall take this token and restore brightness to the name of this fallen."
"Those are generous gifts," Yuriel thanks the Mayor. "We shall try to be worthy of them."
Later, out of earshot, he says "So what is that grey cloak exactly, and who should have the use of it? I would have said Roedd... but who now is our scout and guide?"
Booj looks at the cloth, and asks the mayor, "What does it do, Boss?"
He looks curiously at the goblin, "I would say that it keeps your shoulders warm, but Farud the previous owner, always used to say that he never worried about falling out of the tops of those trees as long as he had Asbeth's favor." he scratches his head, "If you're thinking there's some special property to it, you would have to ask someone with tower training, I had never thought it might be magic."
"The weave is most beautiful."
Upon receiving such boons, Jacen bows solemnly to acknowledge the trust placed in team by the mayor and his people.
"Part of me wishes I could have convinced Roedd to stay. But being truly free means I must accept his decision," Jacen stares off into the horizon in the direction where he thinks Roedd's homeland is.
Later, out of earshot, he says "So what is that grey cloak exactly, and who should have the use of it? I would have said Roedd... but who now is our scout and guide?"
"Such garments should be washed separately from garments of a different colour or school of magic."
Armand does his best, but beyond seeing that the Casque is definitely magical in some way, is unable to help.
"Alors, we must find a person with greater skill in this area. For myself, I grow impatient to seek the kobolds. Possibly they will have an arcanist among them that we may procure for identification."
Yuriel had not realized that the Casque was magical, and is in fact still unsure what exactly a casque is. Seeing that there are no more answers to be had with casque or cloak, the elf turns his face to the kobold lair.
"Time to go. Booj, wear the cloak, don't fall out of trees."
Booj happily dons the cloak. "Right, Boss!"
The cleric looks around for Seljak, hoping the seasoned veteran is up for another fight.
"Suggest we keep moving, Jacen. Seljak will catch us if he's coming. Might be he's made the same choice as Roedd, though I had him figured as a lifer in the army."
"Yes, the ruined fort shouldn't be too hard to find during the day."
The cleric looks left and right before inconspicuously leaving the comforts of civilisation.
"A large building with small kobolds - I see no difficulty."
Armand hums quietly to himself.
Yuriel also finds himself humming as the group marches, the tune seems familiar t hough he can't place it. Maybe something heard around a campfire one evening?
The damp humid air of the foggy morning clings to you, as if it is willing to come this close to the ground, but not ready to touch it. The walk is quiet, with only a few flitting birds, chirping contentedly about their day. You pass a few loggers going about their business as usual, the chop of axes in timber sounding out now and again from the treeline. The forest trail is well worn and easy to follow, and you can tell the distance you get from the camp by the amount of stumps you pass. As you move further uphill, the air gets mildly thinner, and the slope is slow and gentle. After only five to six hours of trekking along the old road, do you notice that the trees are not logged this far up, and the treeline is fairly thick. You are certain this is where you have just crossed into kobold territory.
Cautiously moving forward, it isn't long before you catch signs of a tower sitting atop a small hill, peeking through the boughs of the trees. It is tough to tell just how tall it is from this angle, being slightly downhill looking up, especially with the interposing limbs in the way. The stones are old and weathered, but it looks like it had once been of solid construction. The morning fog has lifted, but the sky is still gray, if there is anyone watching from the tower, you hope they haven't spotted you just yet.
Pausing to survey the scene, Yuriel considers the stone tower ahead of them. "Jacen, what does Legio standard practice say in this situation? Something about scouting, I think? And then a surprise attack, I imagine. Booj, do you fancy seeing how many Kobolds infest that tower?"
Jacen does his best to move quietly in his chainmail, "Be wary, for these kobolds are both crafty and shifty."
"Jacen, what does Legio standard practice say in this situation? Something about scouting, I think? And then a surprise attack, I imagine. Booj, do you fancy seeing how many Kobolds infest that tower?"
"Yes, and send the slave auxiliaries in first, unfortunately."
He turns to Booj, not expecting him to like, nor agree with that procedure.
"For myself, I do not think we remain under Legio rules. However, if Booj is willing, he has the skills. I must admit, I do not."
Armand proves his point as his elaborate gestures knock his hat off.
Booj looks at the tower. "Yes, Boss," he whispers. "This slave can be very quiet." He smiles slightly.