After the hour passed, Durin stood up and walked around the camp, hammer resting on his shoulder. He kept his back to the fire as he used his darkvision to scan for trouble.
If anything was hunting or lurking within the Camp with malicious intent, it seemed to be dormant tonight. Durin patrolled for some time within eye-shot of the campfire, but to no avail. The bone-white powder dust continued to buffet the goup and with increased intensity as the winds picked up. In the middle of summer however, the edge of the Desolation's climate seemed to be arid and warm; in truth the fire was providing light rather than warmth to the adventurers.
After a while with nothing happening Durin approaches the fire and muses, Maybe we need to widen our wanderings? Away from the fire perhaps?
From under his hidey hole Zanzu pipes up, "No let trouble come to us, it has a habit of doing that don't you know." he clucks at Durin
Trouble seems to be taking the rest of the night off...
"Then we can rest easy, for tomorrow it'll wake and seek us out." Zanzu continues with a happy cluck.
Durin glances about... seeing no one else making a move to join him, he plunks himself down by the fire again. He grabs his pack and removes his bedroll...
Apart from the bone-white dust continually blown into the remains of the Pounder's camp, the night was warm enough that the group did not have too uncomfortable a night's sleep. It was now the group's first morning in The Camp and over breakfast a discussion had begun as to their plans for the day...
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Arachiel yawns and stretches, donning his armor for the day. "Well that was anticlimactic." he says, obviously disappointed that nothing went bump in the night.
"What's the plan for today then? More wandering around this festering sore of town? Heading out into the Desolation? Something else entirely?"
A brief sojourn into the Desolation might be interesting...
Lord Vincent also seems disappointed in the lack of anything occurring too, but glad to have a undisturbed sleep.
"Maybe we should go to where the mercenaries had gone. They were clearly onto something for the Ogre to return so rabid. Seems there are great chaotic forces out there, which needs to be pinned down and put in line. Perhaps we could bring law and order to this hamlet?" he states as he waits for other's suggestions. "Perhaps finding the ghostly cart they mentioned that abducts people would help?"
Sammar did ask us to keep an eye out for the caravan the Pounders were escorting. Couldn't hurt to help the fellow out... another friendly face around here could prove useful.
Durin tugs at his beard thoughtfully. Sammar said the caravan left, headed north, a week ago... and Gurg returned last night. That puts them likely at 3 to 4 days out when trouble hit them. If you assume that Gurg can make better time alone than the caravan, maybe 5 days out and 2 days back.
He did seem quite motivated to return to the Camp here...
There's a cluck behind Durin as Zanzu walks from behind him, "Durin speaks well, make a friend and maybe find some lost property!" A sort of smile breaks out, well it beaks could really smile.
Day 1 (evening)
With the group seemingly inclined to spend a night under the stars and with no apparent danger, Marcus forgoes his rope trick, spreading his bedroll near the fire and leaving the tireless, sleepless lyrakien to maintain her usual vigil over the group.
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Day 2 (morning)
Making small clucking noises, the wizard fastidiously cleans every speck of the white dust off his clothing and gear while thinking.
If we do want to find the caravan then taking the northern road does seems the best bet. That many men and animals should have left some sign even if they left the road. And its not a bad idea to try and clean up anything dangerous that lives a long it. We may well want to use it in a hurry at some point soon.
I have a feeling there is a lot more of this stuff out there. He takes a pinch between thumb and forefinger.
I still wouldn't mind talking to those rangers though. Maybe hiring one if they seem suitable.
Look, something we didn't get time to talk about last night but I think we need to be very careful when dealing with this Usurer. I don't really want to get into it until I can find out more but we just need to be careful. Visit him in pairs and such.
Vincent nods as he listens to the plans, nodding.
"Very well, let us find this caravan and find out what happened to these mercenaries." he takes out his blade and points in the possible direction they were last seen. "Onward, my fellow companions."
Very well I will be quick.
Durin your instincts would be helpful. Zanzu you seem interested in them yesterday. Would you care to join me?
Having stowed his sleeping roll already, Durin hefts his hammer upon his shoulder and stands ready to depart. Of course my good man... lead the way.
As he moves alongside Marcus, Durin adds in a lower voice as to not be overheard by any of the Campies who might be nearby, I would urge caution in our dealings with the rangers. My concern being... they are the ones who seemingly most benefitted from the Pounders demise. It is not outside the realm of possibility that they had a hand in their recent troubles. At the very least we should not mention that determining the fate of the Pounders is our goal, but rather that of the caravan's.
They or the other mercenaries yes. And a good idea to tell them as little as possible, I agree.
But I remain concerned we are walking into the dragon's cave blindfolded. Anything we can find out about the Desolation from these men may prove useful. And hopefully it will cost us nothing but a little time if we take care.
"It is always useful to know ones rivals." says Zanzu and bows in agreement with Marcus.
The group made their way through the Camp and noted the uneasy atmosphere prevalent throughout the makeshift settlement. A lack of law and order and an feeling of petty crime did not help with this atmosphere, as well as the clear stares and glances of mistrust directed to the group. The Camp felt much akin to a den of iniquity; and several of the dubious-looking residents reminded the group of cut-throats, rogues and knaves from their lives as adventurers thus far.
While Zanzu and Marcus made their way to the Ranger's camp, the rest of the group could not help but notice, in the early morning light, the undertaker Griswald packing a body into a cart on the common, picking the corpse up from where it lay beside the gallows and dumping it inside a wheelbarrow, making for his shack. Not many "campies" were yet active although the few people already setting up for the day ignored the spectacle entirely. The now-familiar hammering of the Usurer's hammer upon anvil echoed throughout the centre of the settlement.
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Zanzu, Durin and Marcus approached the camp of the Rangers. It consisted of a collection of crumbling adobe buildings, lean-tos, and tents surrounding a patch of surprisingly healthy and bountiful garden. The garden itself seemed to be growing a large number of vegetables, a rarity in the barren soil of the camp. The mud-brick adobes were of obviously ancient construction, clearly pre-dating much of the camp, and had many gaps in their walls and roofs covered by stretched animal hides and blankets.
It seems very likely to you that, along with the well house, these are the last remnants of garrison structures built by the Army of Light, judging from their age and style.
Two trained war dogs napping in the shade of the structures raised their hackles as the trio approached, growling and snapping at them and attracting the attention of one of the well-garbed, forest-green cloaked men, leading a third dog at his side. The man was approaching middle age and bowed slightly in greeting. He spoke with a thick, heavy southern accent and was clearly not originally from any kingdom anywhere near the Desolation.
Mornin'. Name's Jerek. You hiring? Just so's you know, we don't do protection, just guiding. See Clantock if you want fighting men too. What can I do you for eh? he asked, squinting as he carefully examined the three.
Durin nodded appreciatively at the well tended and bountiful garden. As the dogs tried to assert themselves through a show of aggression... Durin looked them directly in the eyes, not backing down or breaking eye contact. Not even when Jerek introduced himself.
As Durin awaited Marcus' response, Durin made a mental correction upon hearing the rest of what Jerek had to say. Right, I forgot about Clantock... he was the Pounders most direct competition...
Marcus endeavours to maintain an aura of calm confidence as the trio walk through the Camp, a task made easier given the presence of the doughty dwarf and exotic tengu.
If we ever show them weakness, they'll come down on us like a pack of wild dogs. This really isn't going to do as a long term campsite.
Looking in the direction of the undertaker and his new charge. That wasn't there when we looked around last night. And if it was the undertaker's doing then why is he just picking it up now?
At the rangers camp he takes in the old buildings at a glance, revealing their nature to his companions while keeping his voice low.
A good morning to you Jerek. Marcus introduces himself and his companions without fuss.
We are adventurers out of Bard's Gate and our business takes us inside the Desolation. We are told that noone knows its dangers like you and your men. The truth of that is something we would like to verify before we speak of terms of hire.
Kiri makes soothing noises towards the dogs as she scans the man's aura for evil and magic. The lyrakien has been quiet and testy since tipping of the half-orc priest with her abilities.
Comfortingly, you detect no evil on the man or inside the shabby buildings, which would clearly be too thin to block your detection. For a moment it felt like the garden itself was radiating magic, but it was just a feeling. The ranger himself bears a magical ring, longsword and cloak.
The dogs calmed down, although this seemed more of a result of Jerek's presence than the soothing sounds the Azata made. Jerek snorted derisively.
We come back from our sojourns into the desolation, which is more'n can be said fe' almost anyone vent'ring out there without knowing the land, adventurers. What further verification do you be needing?
Jerek raised up a hand apologetically as he shouted towards the abodes-
A younger Ranger came jogging out of the structures and jogged off across the common.
Marcus keeps his voice and features neutral.
Well when one is hiring someone to provide services it is usually a good idea to establish what they can provide. If I wanted to hire a warrior I'd ask for a demonstration but we've established your not mercenaries and fighters we have. A guide's skill and knowledge is something harder to assess.
It is not our first time in the wilderness although we gather the Desolation is something unique. What dangers could we avoid with one of yours at our side?
Zanzu checks the man's cut, looking at the line of his clothes, easy to hide something useful or even dangerous. Zanzu's eyes never leave him as he converses with Marcus, until he calls from an assistant. Then Zanzu's eyes move in the direction in which the call was made, his eyes sharp and keen, waiting and watching.
Jerek was wearing simple clothing, with a forest green cloak. Here and there underneath his outer layers you caught glimpses of leather armour as well as a silver ring on his finger, a longsword sheathed at his belt, a short-bow with an arrow quiver and a belt pouch that jingles ever so slightly as he moves. The man grunted in response to Marcus' words.
Unique's one word. We knows the safest places to get yerselves familiar with te' place, we're prepared for the frequent enviro'mental 'azards and bes' of all, we're on good terms wit' te' one safe 'aven in the 'hole of the Ashen Waste. We could take ye' as far as Tsar itself, if ye' were crazy 'nuff.
Two men came jogging back as Jerek speaks rather slowly; the younger "Krinn" and a seasoned looking man of a similar age to Jerek. Although garbed similarly to both of the other men, this man had the "look of eagles" as well as the scars and superior gear that seemed to mark him as the leader of this band of rangers. He spoke with slight difficulty, the result of what appeared to be a vicious bite wound that had long scarred over; and instead of a war dog, he was accompanied by a fully-grown wolf that walked beside him.
I see you've met Jerek. Skeribar's the name and this is my establishment. I'm not one for bandying 'bout with fancy words so i'll make my terms pretty clear up front. Right now, I got three guides available here in camp; Jerek here, Krinn and Davos. We charge 50 iron bits per day per guide; partial days count as full and an estimate of how many days you'll be out will be required; payment in advance and we settle the difference upon return either way.
Durin studies the men as they converse with Marcus, trying to get a sense of their character and gauge their trustworthiness.
At the mention of 50 iron bits per day, Durin raises an eyebrow. That is 250 gold crowns per day! Per guide! Hogwash! I don't think we even have that many crowns to spend anyhow...
Not to mention that fellow Simon we talked to warned us against trusting any of the guides or mercenary companies here in the Camp.
Durin clears his throat and casts a glance at Marcus...
Marcus has travelled with Durin long enough not to need to look at the dwarf to sense his reaction and with Skeribar's appearance the mage seems to realise that the prospects of getting much useful information from the rangers without payment seem slim.
Nevertheless one thing Jerek said seems to have particularly interested him.
Understood. We will need to confer with the rest of our colleagues captain Skeribar.
One thing though. Your man Jerek mentioned a haven in the Ashen Waste. We were led to believe that the Camp was the only place of civilisation in this region.
Taking Marcus' lead Kiri interjects smoothly.
Yes it is most interesting if you have tamed even a portion of the Desolation....
The lyrakien goes on attempting to leverage her charming personality into improving relations with the man.
She follows that with a reinforcement of Marcus' request for information about the Ashen Waste and the ranger's haven.
Durin finds it hard to discern much about Skeribar's character but he did have an uneasy feeling that Jerek was missing out certain details; quite natural if the man was protecting secrets of his trade though.
Kirilarien floundered initially but the man Skeribar seemed to warm to her, albeit a little. He shrugged in response to her request.
I wouldn't deny any man succor and a safe haven in that particular layer of hell. We have established safe havens in the Ashen Waste. If you see a grove of healthy trees growing in the wastelands, it is a sign that our sanctuary is near and can provide respite. I'll keep myself here for an hour or so, to give you time to make up your mind.
You have our thanks.
Checking to ensure neither of his companions have anything to add, Marcus then leads them back to the rest of the group and fills them in.
I get the feeling these men have some idea what they are doing. Kiri got a flicker when she detected magic on that garden. Maybe some druidic magic which implies a fair bit of skill or a dedicated caster.
But clearly just one guide is not going to run cheap. Although I have enough gold to cover a few days if needs must. Exchanging gold for bits here is a fool's errand but presumably we can loot some goods and sell them at something more reasonable.
But then, and I'm not sure how Durin or Zanzu feel, but I can't quite shake the thought that for a team of professional guides these rangers didn't seem particularly interested in having us hire them. They seem very take it or leave it for a group with no apparent employers.
Zanzu's eyes narrow as he wanders away with Marcus and Durin, "Expensive when life is so cheap out here." he says darkly. "we must be careful. I would meet that Jerek quietly, perhaps he could pay for himself to guide us." he clucks contentedly at the thought.
While Zanzu and Marcus made their way to the Ranger's camp, the rest of the group could not help but notice, in the early morning light, the undertaker Griswald packing a body into a cart on the common, picking the corpse up from where it lay beside the gallows and dumping it inside a wheelbarrow, making for his shack. Not many "campies" were yet active although the few people already setting up for the day ignored the spectacle entirely. The now-familiar hammering of the Usurer's hammer upon anvil echoed throughout the centre of the settlement.
Vincent, pushed my morbid curiosity takes a closer look at the poor unfortunate who ended up dead.
"Undertaker...what was that you just put in the wheelbarrow?" he asks taking a step closer to the undertaker.
The undertaker shrugged and looked a little taken aback that someone would question him at first.
Another body. Dead'un at the gallow this morning; strangled it looks like.
The stench of the suit-clad undertaker was foul and made Lord Vincent's eyes water, although the smell of some kind of fragrance was helping to mask it. The undertaker politely took a step back with a wry grin and made to wheel the corpse away.
Meanwhile, a familiar looking Dwarf made his way across the common, making a beeline for Arachiel...
"So he wasn't hung at these gallows just found there? Is this a often occurence?" Vincent asks, though keeps his distance as the smell made his eye water and he didn't wish to be sick infront of his lessers.
So this was ‘The Camp.’ Barak thought to himself as he rode his horse into the common. What a hole, but no worse than the four other backwater hamlets he had been forced to visit this month. Not for the first time this day Barak spat and cursed the bird that had landed him these jobs. This particular dive had one notable feature its proximity to the desolation. Barak shivered at the thought of trekking alone out into the blighted wasteland looking for the recipient of his message.
His eyes were at that point drawn to a familiar group of 6 individuals standing in the common and he raised a silent prayer to Dwerfater that he had found the recipient of his letter quickly. With any luck Barak thought I can deliver the letter and be off without having to spend a night in this god awful place.
”Morning Arachiel, I thought the letter might be for you. I mean how many Arachiels are there in these parts.” Barak said whist rummaging through his saddle bags at last producing a letter dismounting and handing the parchment to Arachiel. “How goes the adventuring business? Defeated anymore evil worshiping cults since the last time I saw you.”
Mission accomplished Barak turned to see the others “Durin you old scoundrel I’ve still got a hangover from our last drinking contest did you ever find out if that Halfling wench was a bloke?”
”Zanzu my fine feathered friend. as I recall I owe you 8 gold crowns in gambling debt. I must thank the patrons who started the bar brawl otherwise I believe I’d owe you a lot more.” Barak takes a platinum piece from his purse with a chuckle and hands it to Zanzu “I hope this covers the interest mate.”
“Marcus I see you still carry that ‘weapon’ around Barak gestures to the crossbow. “have you been practicing your aim? Durin seems to have less bolts jutting from the back of his head. Kirilarien, I’m glad you’re still in his company Marcus needs someone with a little sense to get him out of the scrapes he gets in to. HA! I jest. it’s good to see you both.”
Turning to Vincent ”M’lord I see you still ad a degree of class to this rabble.”
And lastly the man of mystery, aspect of a savage beast but heart and soul of a hound archon. How has life been treating you Khun-duhn?”
“So what are your plans now? I have some free time on my hands and a great thirst I'd happily buy u all a drink. Does this place take coin or is it some other form of oddity like green rocks or broken glass?”
"So he wasn't hung at these gallows just found there? Is this a often occurence?" Vincent asks, though keeps his distance as the smell made his eye water and he didn't wish to be sick infront of his lessers.
Most night's when someone's stupid enough to not be in shelter the undertaker muttered, using Barak's entrance as an opportunity to start wheeling the corpse to his shack.
Vincent nods and then watches the untertaker take off, having no intention of following him as he turns to this dwarf and gives a bow.
"I am honored you think so, but do not let that get in the way of your judgement. Everyone has proven in the past that they can hold their own and be useful when the situation calls for it." he states with a smug look.
Marcus smiles as he sees their old friend and sometimes companion walk up.
Well this enough to make me believe in providence. We were talking about needing a tracker and here is Barak Varr.
He gestures ruefully at the crossbow.
Well I've been practising but despite your pointers I'm still not much good with the thing.
A large smile creases Durin's face as Barak rides into view. After he dismounts and conducts his official business with Arachiel, Durin bursts in to greet his dwarven brethren with a heavy thump on the shoulder with his fist before jovially and boisterously addressing him, Good ol' Barak! Ha! I don't doubt it for a moment and that is funny cause I was going to ask you the same thing! Durin looks at Barak with mischief in his eyes. If you didn't... and I didn't... then who did? Durin scans the group before his gaze falls squarely upon Vincent. He then lets out a loud guffaw while wagging a finger teasingly at the nobleman.
Durin then rubs the back of his head and adds, As for the lack of Marcus' bolts? Bah! His aim is much the same, I've just learned to crouch down much lower when standing in front of him. He smiles and winks at the wizard.
At Barak's last offer, Durin sighs as he knows the others will likely want to get on their way rather than enjoy another round of drinks in the tavern. He looks expectantly at Archiel and Marcus for their responses...
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”Morning Arachiel, I thought the letter might be for you. I mean how many Arachiels are there in these parts.” Barak said whist rummaging through his saddle bags at last producing a letter dismounting and handing the parchment to Arachiel. “How goes the adventuring business? Defeated anymore evil worshiping cults since the last time I saw you.”
"Good morning to you, Barak." the paladin says, clasping the dwarf's forearm in greeting. "Unfortunately, no, though we hope to be remedying that soon enough with the glorious destruction of Tsar."
"Don't tell me the mighty Barak Varr has been reduced to nothing more than a messenger-boy, surely you have been up to more than that." Arachiel says with a wink, confirming the comment was mostly in jest.
"Who is the message from, old man Mathias perhaps?" he asks as he unrolls the parchment.
The message was indeed from Matthias- and contained both a short written message as well as a detailed drawing...
“You adventuring types have the sway now. But mark my words one day us messenger boys will rise up and with the help of the cart drivers and latrine diggers will over throw you! Paving the way for a dull and uneventful future.” Barak raise his fist into the air in mock salute before bursting into laughter. ”Alas my once promising career as messenger had been shot down like a tasty looking prized falcon. Whist it is true I still run messages it is only to arse end back waters like here the pay is poor and honestly I’d jack it in if I had any work to go to.” Barak proceeds to tell the story of his falcon based downfall. ”Going into Tsar eh? Guess it would be futility itself to tell you how dangerous the Desolation is. Especially since none of you could find a decent lay in a brothel. If you’re hiring I could be persuaded keep you heading in the right direction, for... old times sake.” “Barak says hopefully ”and an equal share of the loot.”
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Having read the missive from his mentor, the paladin says, "Looks like the old man has something else for us to keep an eye out for while we are out and about in the Desolation."
Turning to Marcus in particular, "Seems he's found mention of hammer that has the faces of 'the Three Gods' inscribed upon it, Muir, Thyr, and a third deity that apparently has something to do with other two. Supposedly the hammer lies somewhere in the Desolation, possibly even Tsar. Ring any bells?"
You know you will hear no objections from me Barak...
Durin's full attention is upon Arachiel with the mention of a missing mythical hammer...