Siann listens to Grommund's colorful description of the orcs and his warning, then waits as Athelywin contributes, adding "But vigilance is recommended. They were well led and well equiped. These silvered longswords were intended for the lost lad. They were no mere brigands. Your pastoral peace here may be in danger."
"Orcs?" he snaps his head to attention. "At Hogs Branch?"
Garyld then takes out a piece of scrap paper and begins to scribble something on it "Go on, I am listening. Give me any details you may have about them."
He continues to take notes as you recount the details of the story to him.
"Organized? That could be dangerous. Silver weapons? That is sure unusual." he says.
He then lets out a ear piercing whistle and soon a bright eyed crow lands on his shoulder.
He then finishes his writing and folds the paper into a tiny scroll and tells the bird, “Take this to Shiraz.” Taking the paper in its beak, the crow flies off to the southeast.
After the bird is out of sight Garyld returns his attention to the group "Given what you have told me I would say that Oleanne is probably attempting to track down the source of the orcs as we speak. Shiraz is a fellow ranger, more mobile than myself" (this with a rueful glance at his bad leg), "who is especially friendly with the birds in the region. If Jelenneth is anywhere in the western part of Haranshire, Shiraz will probably be able to get some news of her." He says.
Then looking at everyone else "I promise to let you all know anything that I find out and all I ask is that you also pass along any news or clues that might be important."
Then he turns his attention to the inn "I guess you all should let Andren know the bad news, just assure him the search is not over and that we all will continue looking."
"I'm ready for the tavern, myself. When we've got word back from this Shiraz, we can plan out our next steps. In the mean time, Garyld, I don't suppose you've had any more luck with the prisoner we left behind? Has he been any more forthcoming in our absence?"
"Darius told me the man wouldn't give anything up, even when under interrogation. He put the man to hard labor in one of his mines I believe. Won't be bothering no one else out there on the road, I assure you that." he laughs.
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 1: Creeping Along Hog Brook
Active Maps: Map of Milborne
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Parting ways with the ranger the group made their way over to the Baron of Mutton. The task of speaking with Andren was not something they looked forward to but it was something that had to be done. When the group came through the door, Andren was eager for any news and then once the group had a chance to tell him that they had found nothing so far he was quite depressed at their lack of progress.
The group ordered up drinks and dinner and got rooms for the night. While everyone was enjoying themselves over the evening festivities a jolly, plump, balding man in his fifties approached the table. He was dressed in fine clothes, both colorful and of high quality. He introduced himself boastfully as a merchant named Traxus and had overheard what you were trying to do for Andren and wanted to know if you were for hire.
He explained his situation in a plain and simple offer, obviously trying to use simple words and sometimes he paused to think of the right one to use.
"You see lads and lasses, I have a river barge currently moared at the dock here and in the morning we plan to take it on down to Thurmaster. And seeing how things have happened of late I am willing to offer you 15 gp each to escort me and my barge on our trip down the river. I have heard about the kidnapping and bandits in the area and I simply fear for my cargo."
"I'll even pay for your room and board tonight as a bonus. Drinks on me!"
"So what do you say?" he then offers out his hand "Do we have a deal?"
Athelwyn says, "Coin always spends, after all. At the moment we're merely waiting on news from other exploits, so there's the question of if we've the time to commit to another leg of guard duty, paid or otherwise."
Then, turning to the rest of her companions, she says somewhat more privately, "If we're just resting on our laurels for the time being, maybe a little extra coin and the opportunity to keep a traveler safe in the area isn't such a bad idea. If there are more orcish warbands in the area, a lone merchant isn't likely to fare well."
I can see takin' the barge down with ya, but how'd we be gettin' back?
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 1: Creeping Along Hog Brook
Active Maps: Map of Milborne
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"No worries Mr. Stonehammer, the barge be coming back upriver. We will leave in the morning, go to Thurmaster, drop off our goods, stay the night in port and then come back upriver the following day. Can drop you right back off here in Milborne." he says as he watches for the dwarfs reaction.
"That's more than fair, don't you think?"
"May as well..." Grommund shrugs. Seems these country folk have plenty of work for us at least.
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 2: Barge Duty
Active Maps: Map of Thurmaster
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
With the evening being paid for by the merchant everyone has time the rest of the evening to enjoy good company and get a good nights rest. The next morning everyone heads down to the barge and gets ready for the trip down river.
The barge trip down the river is entirely uneventful and really makes the day drag on and on. Once the barge docks in Thurmaster the merchant happily pays the agreed upon amount and hands each of you fifteen gold pieces for your time. Once you arrive you go and find Tauster and report the events at Kuiper's Farm, in turn Tauster pays each of you the agreed upon amount for delivering the letter to Kuiper as he had asked and your pockets grow yet another ten gold piece richer.
Tauster expresses his disappointment and concern that no sign of Jelenneth has been found. The old wizard has no more errands for you just now but tells you that you should stay in Haranshire: "You should have no trouble finding work now, what with kidnappings and bands of unknown orcs in the woods indeed! Dark times, dark times indeed” (Tauster likes his cliches) "I have a feeling there are some interesting adventures in store for you."
"We haven't given up on the girl yet, magis--master Tauster," Athelwyn bumbles out. "Absent a desire to do so and perhaps a penchant for illusory dweomers, someone up and disappearing without a single trace--and without choice personal effects--is too bizarre. Eventually we will find a leaf or stone that, when upturned, reveals what's actually going on."
Athelwyn spends much of the remainder of the evening pestering Tauster with questions dealing with the arcane. While supposing her own tutelage superior to a veritable hedge-wizard, she still can appreciate what experience provides.
Dorin hangs out at the Tavern, drinking, for most of the evening before calling it a night. He awakes early and heads to the docks in preparation for the return trip to Milborne.
Grommund hangs with Dorin, hoping to hear some tales of his past exploits, and using some of his newfold coin to have some drinks as well.
Siann says her goodnights and retires to her room, waking before dawn.
The first rays of sunlight find her moving through graceful, powerful forms in a nearby pasture.
Finally, a sheen of sweat on her brow, she kneels , face towards the sun , contemplating all that has come before and may come.
As some villagers walk past towards their own duties, she rises smoothly and enters the tavern, the first it seems.
Ordering a simple breakfast from the sleepy waitress she eats quickly, washes up, grabs her gear and goes to wait for the others at the dock.
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 3: Secrets of the New Mire
Active Maps: Map of Milborne
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The day slowly slips away, and not tolerating the tavern and its bad food here the group decides to just camp out on the barge for the night, telling the merchant it would be safer if they stayed aboard which the merchant had no objection to since you had already been paid but made it clear there would be no more payment for the added security. The night passed quietly as well and the next morning at first light the barge made the trip up river. The travel was much slower going against the current and oftentimes they seemed stuck in the same spot for hours, but finally they arrived back in Milborne around late evening.
Stepping off the barge the group notices a large amount of activity at the exchange and goes to investigate....
You arrive in time to see an auction in progress outside the Exchange: the Denfast family has been forced to abandon their farm due to the spread of the New Mire and are selling off what little they could salvage (farm tools and the like). After this sad spectacle, everywhere in town you go you hear rumors and speculation about what’s causing the land west of the Patchwork Hills to become waterlogged.
You are only back in Milborne for an hour or two when Garyld comes to find you. "Darius Carman has asked me to locate you. He request your presence at dinner this evening at the mansion house. Please dress appropriately and leave all but the most necessary equipment at the inn. This is a formal dinner, with a very important individual."
Please post how you are dressing for the event and what arms, armorments or equipment you are bringing. Be descriptive for everyone on your appearance.
No. He is the one you tried to meet with but was too busy. Kind of like the mayor of the town. Owns all the mines and a bunch of land in the area.
Siann watched the auction dispassionately, seeing the orderly dispossession of property as the natural outcome of the Denfast family's inability to manage their own land.
At Garyld's announcement, Siann frowned at the ranger, then nodded, still frowning. Her thoughts went back to the Company's formal regimental dinners, far fewer than the debaucherous celebratory feasts, but not uncommon.
Starched collars and shiny buckles....such nonsense, she thought, remembering her own pathetic acoutrements at the time. With a snort, she dropped to one knee and rummaged through her pack. At the bottom, folded carefully was a dress tunic of the Amnish Horse Regiment, about 20 years out of date. She'd fancied it, seeing it on a slain horseman, after a battle around 3 years earlier. Why the fool had been wearing his dress uniform, she never could fathom.
Pulling the tunic out and giving it a shake, she considered the worn but servicable garment. The former owner had been slight, so she'd be able to wear it without too much alteration.
"Will this do, Garyld? " she asks the ranger.
Grommund sighs. "I havenae got any fancy cloth to cover meself with. He'll just have tae enjoy me magnificence as is."
Before the evening, Grommund spends time cleaning his only outfit as best he can. He leaves his weapons at the inn, except for a short segment of one arrow which he breaks off about three and a half inches below the head. He wraps the broadhead in cloth to prevent it cutting him, and stuffs into the bottom of his boot. Improvised dagger for the inevitable trap.
Once evening falls, he seeks out the others. "Nice uniform, Siann. Where did you get it?"
"Dorin, what are you gonn tae wear?"
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 3: Secrets of the New Mire
Active Maps: Map of Milborne
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The group prepared for dinner at the Carman mansion and as soon as they were ready they made their way across the village and up the hill. They were greeted at the door by an exquisitely dressed butler and shown right in. They were shown to a large dinning room where the solid mahogany table had been set with the finest of dinnerware and six servants in the room pulled out the chairs for each of the guest as the group has a seat in turn. However the chair at the head of the table was empty.
The servants then poured wine, but not any old wine, Elven blush and Elven Brandy were served in course depending on what the guest wanted. It was announced that dinner would consist of roasted duck with some kind of sauce you couldn't pronounce on a good day. With fresh spring vegetables and fig tarts would be for the desert course.
As the servants finished up with filling glasses with the appropriate beverage they left the room and all that remained was the group and the butler who added "Kind sirs, the master of the house has asked me to inform you that he will be joining you shortly. There is a bell on the table if you happen to need anything. Dinner will be served as soon as Mr. Carman joins you." he then bows and exits the room leaving the group alone for the moment.
Yes there is a dress shop, nothing to fancy however.
“Is it jus’ me or is it a bit strange to have a mansion out here in the middle of nowhere?” Grommund asks the others once the servants leave. He examines the room, looking for anything out of place.
Dorin also cleans up his clothes, and he keeps on his armor and one handaxe in his belt. All remaining weapons he leaves in the Inn.
These hoighty toighty affairs do nuthin'for me. I hope there is a good job fer us outa' this.
He slugs down a good bit of his brandy and wrinkles his nose.
'Ave ya any Ale
Once evening falls, he seeks out the others. "Nice uniform, Siann. Where did you get it?"
Siann shrugs, "Spoils of war. Some idiot thought looking dashing would save his life in battle. One of the cadre mages did something to him , he fell out of his saddle, dead, not a mark on him." she holds the tunic up to her chest, "All the others were looking for coins and such , but for some reason I saw this old man lying in the grass, as if he'd just laid down for a nap. He was a viscount or a duke or somesuch. Penniless, thought."
She slipped the tunic over her head, smoothed her pants and judged herself fit for presentation to Carnan.
She leaves all of her weapons in her room at the inn.
-----
Siann nibbles at the food, finding it too rich for her taste. Likewise, the Elfish wine and brandy, though delicious, would quickly lead to a deadening of her faculties.
She turns her head to Grommund, "There's always someone at the top, Grommund."
Siann nods at Dorin's comment on a job, "Our invite might fulfill Tauster's prophecy for us."
Once evening falls, he seeks out the others. "Nice uniform, Siann. Where did you get it?"
Siann shrugs, "Spoils of war. Some idiot thought looking dashing would save his life in battle. One of the cadre mages did something to him , he fell out of his saddle, dead, not a mark on him." she holds the tunic up to her chest, "All the others were looking for coins and such , but for some reason I saw this old man lying in the grass, as if he'd just laid down for a nap. He was a viscount or a duke or somesuch. Penniless, thought."
"I wouldnae mind lookin' dashing meself, lass. I dinnae leave the north for that I could continue to wear this drabery all me days," the dwarf snorts, motioning to his travel worn clothing. "Once we strike it proper rich, it's back tae one of the big cities on the coast for me. Set meself up proper with a little locksmithing shop perhaps...." The dwarf realizes he's sharing his feelings suddenly, and promptly shuts up.
She turns her head to Grommund, "There's always someone at the top, Grommund."
Siann nods at Dorin's comment on a job, "Our invite might fulfill Tauster's prophecy for us."
"Well, there is good food if nothin else," Grommund says between greedy mouthfuls of the finery. "More gold for the purse will simply ice the cake. No doubt we'll have tae nearly die again for it!"
Athelwyn disappears into the town proper for some time, eventually managing to acquire and follow directions to what might pass as a tailoring shop. Predictably, they have nothing to offer that would even begin to approach satisfying what sense of fashion she has brought with her from Halruaa. Most of the women--and men--in the area seemed to tend towards drab and subdued garments, however, so the usual gaudy affair she is familiar with likely wouldn't fit well. She peruses the shop's offerings for a time, before eventually approaching the clerk with a request for modifications.
---
As the time for the dinner approaches, Athelwyn emerges a bit tardy, though attempting to appear more presentable than her usual affair. A dull, green cloak clings about her shoulders like a shawl, tapering to a narrow point at mid-back, matching a slightly more vibrant simple green sleeveless dress that appears little more than a bodice and a split skirt. Her lower body is otherwise covered in her usual wear: knee-high boots and crimson pants. Beyond her raiment, little differs from her usual appearance, save for a meager application of kohl to her eyelids (a decidedly Mulhorandi choice).
Unlike the rest, she casually sips and enjoys the wine being proffered. It is immediately apparent that the niceties to which everyone is currently exposed are not foreign to Athelwyn. Her etiquette is well honed, and her physical presence graceful.
"We probably shouldn't get too far ahead of ourselves with the host's designs. He may simply be wishing to size up the cadre of adventurers moving about the region." Athelwyn cautions, though secretly hoping for a decent payoff herself from the ordeal. "They seem to have a firm grasp on fashionable lateness, at the very least."
"'Cause 'es on damned human time. You tall ones are always late. No sense of honor or duty instilled when you're young, eh? Need proper clans tae raise you right."
Aye, brother, no sense of order, likewise.
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 3: Secrets of the New Mire
Active Maps: Map of Milborne
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Soon your host arrives from down the stairs, a middle aged man with a woman of about the same age at his side. She straightens his suit as they enter and then quickly is dismissed and sent back up the stairs with a look of disappointment on her face, but she obeys in silence. Before you stands a stern faced man, to say his rough features and dark wrinkled eyes didn't match the fancy tailed tailored suite and coat he was wearing would be an understatement. Dressed in all black, complete with a cane and top hat stood a man that looked to have worked for everything that he had for his face and hands told a tale that his suit did not.
He moved over to the seat at the head of the table but did not sit. Removing his hat and placing it near him on the edge of the table he began to speak. His voice deep, strong and articulate "Welcome to my home, I am Darius Carman, and I apologize for not having met with you earlier. My family owns the mines north of Milborne and most of the farmsteads around Milborne, together with some properties in the town itself. Which keeps me very busy to say the least but it also puts me in a unique situation where my family is charged, among other things, with maintaining a town militia for defense of Milborne. No standing militias are kept in either Milborne or Thurmaster. These are peaceable communities, and militias are raised as and when necessary. I am sure you have met Garyld so you know he is my eyes and ears in the community."
Not waiting for a response as if he had prepared that statement in advance he has a seat at the table. "But enough about me for now. Let us enjoy our meal." he says as he rings the bell that had been placed on the table. The servants come out and dinner is served and not many words are spoken over the extravagant laid out meal. Some small talk with Darius mostly listening as you tell him of the orcs and the missing girl which he doesn't seem to concerned about. Just nodding at appropriate times.
Once dinner is completed, Darius nods at one of the servants who in turn brings out a small cask and sits it near the head of the table. The oaken cask bears the branded seal of Mirabar on the side and as Darius breaks the seal on the tap and pours himself a small shot glass and he sniffs the aroma which is strong enough to even peak the nose buds of everyone around the table. "Dragon's Blood. Made by the dwarves of Mirabar. The drink is said to have an interesting taste, similar to liquid fire. It is said that ale quenches the burning sensation somewhat, water makes it worse. The kicker to all of this is that it is highly intoxicating. One legend describes a female dwarf who was the only one who could handle the stuff because of having a supernatural tolerance for alcohol. However, four glasses of Dragon's Blood had her blind staggering drunk. Dragon's Blood costs 100 gp per pint elsewhere if you can find it. Got this cask in a land trade. Hadn't tried the stuff myself."
And with that he downs the glass in a single gulp, his face twisted and contorted only momentarily and then it passed as he regained his composure. "Good stuff." then he seemingly got straight down to business as the servant moved the cask offering each of you a shot if you like.
"If you have been in town this afternoon then you probably saw the Denfast family at the exchange. Selling off what they could scavenge because the land west of the Patchwork Hills has become water logged. You've heard about the New Mire?" he says looking around the table.
"Bad business. Some evil magic, I thought. Well, I sent an emissary off to find a decent diviner who could learn something of the matter. The wretched old charlatan charged me a fortune, and all he could tell me was that there was magic involved, but that it was not evil. He could not identify it, but he said that it was something going wrong. Going wrong! I ask you! I could have told him that myself. I would like you to study the area for me. Find out anything you can. I shouldn't be surprised if the trouble lies somewhere in the Patchwork Hills; after all, the farmland itself has been settled a good many years and has always been fertile." he concludes.
"Now I am a man of my word and I expect you to be a man of yours. You understand me? I wish to retain your services for up to two weeks and I will pay you 50gp each for your time to do scouting work in the area of the new mire and the Patchwork Hills. If you find the answer before then, I will still pay you the full rate." he offers.
"Now if you can actually solve the problem of the water logged lands. I will pay you the princely sum of 1,000 gp for your troubles." he says as you realize how ridiculous high that kind of money offer is.
Before you can respond he explains "The loss of income from the farmlands will exceed that within two years, so I reckon it's worth it to have those farmlands operational again. Not to mention the benefit to the farmers themselves. Such as the Denfast family this afternoon."
"So what do you say? Do we have a deal?" he ask.
Grommund looks around the table at the others, his eyes gleam at the thought of so much coin. "I'm willing tae go, but I'm not sure any of our group are exactly capable woodsfolk. Hills sound more like home tae me."
Athelwyn helps herself to the rare cuisine being offered, but politely turns down the dwarven spirit. She inwardly beams at the prospect of earning such a large sum of coinage. One thousand gold pieces would be enough to set her up comfortably for quite some time; perhaps even fuel a trip further east into the interior of the Heartlands.
"How long ago did the New Mire appear and begin spreading? There is actually a similar phenomenon in Halruaa. An entire swamp that encroaches further with each passing tenday." Athelwyn's brow furrows a bit at her recollection. "Sad to say the combined knowledge and power of the various arcanists therein have thus far failed to find a means of halting, abating, or otherwise thwarting the mire's spread. That does not speak well of our own hopes should the situation here be borne of the same malady."
Looking around the table, it dawns on her that she's not making a terribly great sales pitch for the four of them as investigative adventurers, so Athelwyn adds, "I very much doubt the two, distances so vast between, are related directly of course! Perhaps there's some manner of gateway to the elemental plane of water that has been opened and unmitigated. Or perhaps some seismic shift in the region, natural or otherwise, has yielded a new surface route for some underground reservoir. Have there been any tremors in the area surrounding the mire's appearance?"
Siann listens to the noble's spiel, nodding at his questions of understanding.
Her eyebrows rise at the amount offered, commenting "A rich prize. I'll help you , Ser." she says, taking the offered Dragon's Blood, downing a measure, as if to seal the deal.
Suppressing the fit of coughing that threatened break her through her training, she allows Althelwyn her chance to speak before asking, "I'd thought they'd failed due to their own mismanagement of their land. You say that another agency is at work. Very well, a mystery to be solved."
Dorin nods at the offer of the Dragon's Blood. He downs the drought in a gulp and smiles broadly at Darius.
A fine concoction. My brothers in Mirabar 'ave done ya right.
He listens to the story, and his eyebrows raise at the offered reward.
Aye, then, I'll be joinin' the others. Sounds like somethin' we can help ya with.
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 3: Secrets of the New Mire
Active Maps: Map of Milborne
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Turning to answer Athelwyn's questions, Darius actually smiles, as but a moment "Until two years ago, the area was good farming land. The first year, the soil grew waterlogged, until the roots of plants rotted in the ground. This year, the problem is even worse. Cutter Brook has not flooded, nor does the water in it seem foul or bad to drink, yet the affected area has almost doubled its size. The cause of the waterlogging is a mystery that the locals, including myself desperately want solved. Unable to grow crops in the soggy ground, the farmers have been reduced to buying feed for their animals and themselves and are threatened with destitution."
"There have been no tremors here that I know of. The mines haven't even had a cave in for a good long stretch."
"I am glad you have agreed to help me.... help us. You'll probably want to stock up on some gear for the trip in town. Rations for two ten-days, maybe some hanging tents. The ground is aweful wet out there. Go out there and look around, ask some questions of the locals, see what you can find. Fifty gold for two weeks work for each of you is good pay, even if you don't find anything.... But if you can solve the problem, splitting a one thousand gold piece prize would be even better."
He then looks at the two dwarves "And if ye happen to fix the problem, we'll drink the entire cask of Dragon's Breath or at least see who passes out first." he laughs.
"Perhaps we should have some of your local rangers arrange some adequate maps of the surrounding region, then. With orcs and bandits active in the area, sparing a guide might be a taller order than usual, I'm guessing. Regardless, we are strangers to these climes, so anything that would aid in our not becoming lost in a bog would be greatly appreciated." Athelwyn inclines her head in a slight nod to Darius by way of thanks for the provisions being offered already.
"Do we need to draw up contracts, or shall this be a more informal bargain?"
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 3: Secrets of the New Mire
Active Maps: Map of Milborne
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"I tend to make agreements on my word, and that of another. For what is a man if he can not keep his word." and with that he extends a rough calloused hand to each of you to seal the agreement with a handshake.
Siann takes the noble's hand in hers, but does not release it right away, looking steadily into Darius' eyes. Finally, satisfied with what she sees there, she releases his hand.
"A guide would be best, but if not , perhaps a map?" she suggests.
Twould be untoward of us tae get lost and die before we even begin the mission... Grommund thinks, hoping his companions' requests for some kind of guidance is heeded.
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 3: Secrets of the New Mire
Active Maps: Map of Milborne
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"Well I will see if I can't round you up a guide. Can't spare Garyld however, he is needed here and with his limp he would only slow you down. I believe I could find you a local shepherd by morning that knows the area well. Stock up on anything you need and be ready to go at first light in the morning." he says.
When Siann shakes his hand, he returns her long gaze "Thank you, me lady."
Athelwyn politely accepts Darius' outstretched hand by way of sealing the deal, as it were. She spends much of the remainder of the evening in her room making sure all of her effects are prepared and well secured for the journey ahead. At some point she manages a jaunt to the general store to procure some thigh-high boots () to aid with traversing a water-logged terrain. It is not foolproof likely, but a measure to prevent her belongings from becoming soaked or mud-coated nonetheless.
Grommund goes with Athelwyn, trying to find some oilskin overalls, rations for two ten-days, and a hanging tent.
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 3: Secrets of the New Mire
Active Maps: Map of Haranshire
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
After making some hasty preparations, the group heads out toward the Patchwork hills and a day later they are close enough to begin asking and questioning farm folk and the like. Over the next 5 days you learn the following about the Patchwork Hills:
The Patchwork hills are so called because their appearance in the fall is mottled and patchy, not unlike an irregular patchwork quilt. Heather and bracken coat the hillsides, and the grazing is poor (bracken is virtually inedible). If the weather is good and the prevailing wind from the north in mid-fall, hillsmen burn away the vegetation here to protect the terraces from encroachment by the choking bracken.
The terraces were carved from the northern escarpment nearly a century ago. The terraces are cut in layers, each some 50 yards wide, with the next terrace lying some 20 to 40 feet below, accessed by steps cut into the rock. The soil here is surprisingly good, excellent for roots (carrots, turnips, potatoes) and green vegetables (mostly cabbages). Ownership of a terrace is handed down within families and is jealously prized.
To the southeast, the Patchwork hills merge into lightly wooded hills, eventually blending into the Thomwood. The terrain here is very rocky and wild (movement is reduced by 50%) and the plant growth is scrubby, stunted, and uneven. There are occasional sightings of big cats, notably mountain lions, within the wooded hills: the Pitcher and Pitchfork in Harlaton proudly displays the skin of an especially large male mountain lion over its hearth (rather mangy and moth eaten with age).
After spending a week with nothing useful the group turns there attention to the water soaked lands directly and began asking residence or at least the few that are still left questions about the New Mire:
The area on the map shown as New Mire was, until two years ago, good fanning land. The first year, the soil here grew waterlogged, until the roots of plants rotted in the ground. This year, the problem is even worse. Cutter Brook has not flooded, nor does the water in it seem foul or bad to drink, yet the affected area has almost doubled its size. The cause of the waterlogging is a mystery the locals desperately want solved. Unable to grow crops in the soggy ground, they have been reduced to buying feed for their animals and themselves and are threatened with destitution.
With no leads to be had directly the group turns its attention to Cutter Brook:
This long, meandering stream leads down to the Chumett river from its source in the Patchwork hills. Occasionally semi-precious stones are found in the stony stream bed. These are green- or blue- tinged copper-containing stones, the size of small pebbles, with delicate whorling and striation. They have a base value of only 5 or 10 sp, so the banks of the stream are hardly thronged with hopeful panners.
Finds are incidental and opportunistic, and often made by young farm children, shepherds, or hopeful fishermen. The brook is never more than six feet deep or so and is forded easily at almost any point.
Having spent the last 12 days scouring the Pathchwork Hills, The New Mire and the Cutter Brook. Asking questions, investigating all they could and have turned up no real useful information. With only 2 days left on their agreement with Darius they had no answers for him or themselves on why the land had flooded.
Sitting around a semi wet campsite on this evening the group gathered to discuss any other options of finding what might be causing the water logging.
"Mayhaps the water is jus' coming outtae groun' like," Grommund muses, from the relative dryness of his hanging tent. "I for one am b$+!#~*sed...We been sloggin' through this stinkin' mire for so long my nipples forget the sensation o' dryness! Unless someone else has an ideal, I say we ought tae just collect our gold and start lookin' for the next job."
Siann crouched by the fire, teasing the embers to keep burning despite the damp, looking over at Grommund, "Despite the anguish your nipples may be experiencing, I'm not for giving up quite yet. We have 2 days in which to gain our prize, let's not give up. "
She pokes at the fire for a few moments, "As the diviner said, something here is wrong. " she says, then nods to Grommund and Dorin, "Your folk delve the ground and rock, it does not seem that the Brook is the cause...could something under the mire or perhaps under the Patchwork Hills be the cause?"
"Thas what I meant by comin' outtae the ground like. Remind me, nobody mentioned any auld mines or the like in the hills did they? Other than that or a cave I dinnae see how we'd gain access to any subterranean goins on."
Act 3: Lured Into Darkness
Scene 3: Secrets of the New Mire
Active Maps: Map of Haranshire
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
As the night fades and the next morning arrives the group made a trip back over to Cutter Creek, planning on searching the bottoms of the deepest sections for any signs that might lead to the cause of the water soaked lands. Each of them knew the effort was probably futile but Darius had paid them for two more days and they had to do something.
Once you arrive at the creek, you find some youths playing and splashing in the waters. One of the boys seem to be telling the others how he saw some blue skinned fiends at the edges of the Patchwork Hills. "They breathed FIRE and wore iron shoes. There was DOZENS of them, they were HUGE almost giant sized, with wide mouths full of HUNDREDS of sharp pointy teeth. They had bright SHINY armor, with SPIKES and HUGE two-handed war axes. They didn't see me, I hid and it was the very DEAD of night, up near the headwaters of this very creek."
As the young boy told the tale that he was trying to embellish with every scary thing that he could, it seemed to frighten the other boys somewhat until a elven lad splashed water at the one recounting the tale "Yeah right!"
In which the boy responded "The tale is true. They even had flat faces with pointed ears. Just like yours!" he says to the elven lad as all the boys laughed.
"What make you of this?" Athelwyn asks the others, indicating the playing children. "I don't know that I'm ready to stake our investigative efforts on the fanciful tale of a youth, but if there's a kernel of truth to his story it could be worthwhile." She makes ready to approach the children, but waits to hear where everyone else stands.
I'm not sure what a toothy-mawed, blue, fire-spitting almost-giant is, but I suppose there are stranger things lurking in the wilds of Faerun.
Siann nods, "A kernel is all we need.", then steps forward, calling out ,"Boy! That's a tall tale. We'd hear it all, if you'd like."
Her voice strains with the effort of trying to sound unthreatening...
Dorin steps to the stream's edge and places his hands on his hips.
Aye, boy, come on outa' there and tell us the full o'the story.