Cinders holds onto Hiram and keeps her eyes on the two former gnomes.
Tyr tries to think of what he knows about the 'Fey' folk, but other than old tales from child-hood he realizes he knows little if anything that is fact. Not trusting his child-hood fables he sits slowly, though keeping a weather eye upon the fey.
"Hale and well met." He offers simply.
Hiram sits up, taking a moment to compose himself. He watches the fey as they speak with the others. At an appropriate moment, he clears his throat,
"Please, pardon my reaction. That dream was so...real. There really is just no describing it."
He pauses, drinking from his waterskin, and nodding at Cinders in thanks,
"Your song was about the maiden and the unicorn. I fear your song has the ring of prophecy about it. Do you know anything more about the maiden?"
Eseldra attempts to quietly cast a detect magic and holds her concentration on it, just in case there are any more magical surprises awaiting them.
Eseldra attempts to quietly cast a detect magic and holds her concentration on it, just in case there are any more magical surprises awaiting them.
As you turn your attention back to the two grigs near the campfire, you see the one that was disguised as the gnome Queeg give you a knowing wink.
"Well there's plenty o' fire for ye grig-folk, as long as ye keep yer jokes to tall tales and stories, and stay away from the more malicious pranks."
"So what else ye seen 'sides the Stag-man? I'm makin' a map of the whole area here, and some tips on what lay South could be useful."
"Malicious pranks?!" Twyllyn cries, feigning offense before giving Euron a wink and a grin. "Here an' I'd think ye'd know us well 'nough t' know we save our 'malicious pranks' fer thems 'at bring harm t' nature, Wolf-brother," the orange-haired grig huffs.
"So let's see that map yer makin' then. Might be we can help a bit," Twyllyn says. Then he looks over toward the group's mounts and gives a piercing whistle. "Ho there! Fenna! Ye know this area better'n any! Come take a look at this here map!" Twyllyn calls. A female grig pops into visibility atop Eseldra's horse, busily braiding flowers into the horse's mane, and then drops the rest of her flowers and flies over to perch on Euron's shoulder and peruse the map.
"Hmmm," the grig Fenna purrs as she studies the map. "We heared ye helped the koboilies an' drove them foul smelly mites from th' Ol' Sycamore," she says, pointing to the locations on the map. "An' Twyllyn told ye 'bout the ford just 'fore th' Thorn meets th' Shrike here," she adds pointing to a spot west of the mite lair. "From there if'n ye go upstream th' Shrike runs east an' then north a bit t' Nettle's Crossing - shame what that Stag Lord did t' that poor biggins... If'n ye go downstream from th' Thorn th' Shrike runs int' th' Tuskwater. That's where yer Stag Lord's fort is, but be warned - it's sittin' on top o' ground cursed by th' Angry Hag," the small fey creature shudders and makes a warding gesture against evil forces. "Ye'd be much better off avoidin' all that an' just headin' southwest 'crosst th' bridge near here - 'bout a half day's ride from the bridge is a thicket o' th' juiciest fangberries ye could want. 'Course ye'd need t' watch out fer th' spiders!" she laughs.
"Please, pardon my reaction. That dream was so...real. There really is just no describing it."
"Your song was about the maiden and the unicorn. I fear your song has the ring of prophecy about it. Do you know anything more about the maiden?"
The three grigs fall silent and glance at each other with pensive expressions as they consider Hiram's question.
Finally the heretofore silent grig Queeg clears his throat and speaks. "Well now, lad. Sometimes dreams 're just dreams, an' sometimes th' Gods use dreams t' send messages t' mortals. Not my place t' say which your'n is. Our song was 'bout somethin' bad what happened t' a unicorn, which res'nates with yer dream. P'rhaps they're linked; again, not me place t' say. There's lots o' bad things what happen in th' Greenbelt. Some 're just random, but others 're tied together like a web. Problem with a web is ye gotta watch out fer the spider."
"Ye see what I'm sayin'?" Queeg asks, giving Hiram a pointed look.
"A spider's web, ehh?"
Hiram tugs at his developing goatee, while his breath still calms to normal levels.
"Got ta watch out fer them spiders..."
Hiram gets up and approaches the fey, looking at them this way and that,
"Don't 'spose you got a farmin' metaphor hidin' back there somewheres? I do better with those."
He grins meekly at the fey, and returns to his sitting position,
"Hmm, well, you have helped us so much recently...least we could do is cook dinner for ya! Why'nt cha'y'all just have a sit, and I'll cook somethin' real nice for ya!"
Hiram gets up to go get his cooking gear from the gear pile near the mounts.
Seeing Hiram go for his cooking gear, Karthas thinks to himself, "So much for any goodwill we have with these creatures."
Cinders relaxes. "I apologize for my outburst," she says to the grigs. "Some food will definitely do us all well. Hiram is an excellent cook. He doesn't undercook like most people."
Just after Fenna jumped down off of Eseldra's horse, 5 pounds of sticky mud which had just floated up and over the invisible aura drops down on top of her horse's neck, ruining the flowers Fenna had put there and quite upsetting the animal.
Eseldra looks quite abashed and actually blushes a bit green.
Assembling what he can, Hiram attempts to cook a meal for the guests over the fire. He watches the visitor's, forgetting the food for perhaps too long, and inevitably...blackens...the food.
"Well, yer mor'n'welcome to what you can stomach, though I think this is more just fer Ms. Cinders."
Tyr will also make himself useful and help Hiram with the camp-fire chores.
With Tyr's help Hiram manages to prepare a passable meal. Twyllyn gives another call and a fourth grig - another female named Thistle - pops into visibility perched in Tunica's antlers. The four grigs tuck into the meal with gusto. "'T'aint often we has us a meal fixed by biggins!" Thistle says between mouthfuls of well-done pheasant.
Once the meal is done, the grigs ask for tales of the companions' adventures in the Greenbelt. The evening passes in pleasant company, and the grigs take their leave as the moon reaches its zenith, promising to give warning if any dangers approach the camp.
The morning dawns crisp and clear. As a sign that Spring is definitely progressing, this morning is not quite as chill as the previous day. As a parting gift from the grigs, all of the horses have spring crocuses braided into their manes, and a garland of flowers is draped over Tunica's antlers (even Eseldra's horse has been cleaned of mud and has fresh flowers). The companions gather their gear and pack up to continue exploring the eastern side of the Thorn river, working their way south toward the river crossing Fenna noted on the party's map.
6Ee: ;
6Ex: ;
6En: ;
Survival:
Perception:
As Euron wakes early and with a skyward grin, he moves to check on the animals. Seeing the garland draped across Tunica, and the elk prancing about as if it was suddenly Gozreh's own personal steed, the druid stifles a smile, while commenting, Oh, the lady elks will just love that new look."
* includes +1 from wayfinder
Cinders awakes cheerfully and happily eats any leftover food from last night. She looks with amusement at her horse's mane.
Upon seeing the flowers braided into the mane of his horse, Karthas just shakes his head.
"I suppose it's best to just leave them there, so we don't upset the fair folk."
Eseldra will support a scouting mission at this time, perhaps even harrowing the bandits a bit, drawing small groups out to ambush in the forest.
After howling about crushing the Stag Lord now and hearing his companions discuss what to do about the Stag Lord, Karthas finally relents.
"Perhaps a scouting mission would be our best option at this time, though we must make sure that either we are not seen, or those who do see us are unable to report back to their master."
"I am all for a scouting mission to start with," Cinders says. "I would have thought that was a given step for going after the Stag Lord. We don't want to rush in unprepared. We need to know exactly what we're up against."
"The man must be somewhat formidable to command such fear from the rest of the local brigands. Word of our exploits must have reached his ears by now, so he may be prepared for us to come visiting eventually. Perhaps, if we are taken, we could convince him that we wish to set up our own operation in the Greenbelt, and have come to offer him tribute and receive his blessing to operate in his territory. Offer him a chance at hitting Oleg's with us as traitors on the inside. A forewarned group of garrisoned soldiers inside should be able to handle a few bandits."
"Well well, Gerti and Matti, don't you both just look a fine sight! I like it!"
"Just like huntin' wolves...got'a stalk 'em first, check out there den, then make a plan of attack...and bring back up."
Perhaps it's some final blessing of the fey folk, or perhaps it's just that the companions have become very skilled mappers. Regardless, by noon the group has finished mapping the heretofore unexplored area to the east of the Thorn River.
As the companions near the confluence of the Thorn River with the Shrike, they hear the roar of a waterfall ahead. Cresting a small rise, the party spies a copse of trees downslope to the south near the river crossing that the grigs mentioned. Just south of the river crossing, the Thorn River passes through a stretch of rapids before plunging over a steep slope to fall into the broad Shrike River below.
"Hmm, the game is already a foot." Tyr says quietly and enigmatically to himself.
"It's the men with x-bows that worry me the most, other wise I'd start running at them from here." He looks to his companions,
"Any good plans come to mind?" He asks.
The crossbows don't worry me too much, at least not as much as the apparent slaves being taken to the Stag Lord."
"Tyr, our old friend Berenkor never would have stood for this, neither should we."
"Jamison, Euron, Cinders, anything you can do to slow down their caravan? I'm going to take a closer look."
Karthas dismounts and quietly moves closer to the bandit caravan to get a closer look.
Ride (Fast Dismount DC20):
Stealth: (moving full speed)
"And just what am I?" Esrelda hisses after Karthas. "Kobold excrement!? Just get me within 30 feet of that lead horse and I can slow them down."
She dismounts and starts sneaking off after the barbarian.
Stealth: (not moving full speed)
"And just what am I?" Esrelda hisses after Karthas. "Kobold excrement!? Just get me within 30 feet of that lead horse and I can slow them down."
She dismounts and starts sneaking off after the barbarian.
Stealth: 1d20+3 (not moving full speed)
Turning his head briefly back to Eseldra...
"My apologies, Eseldra, it was not meant as slight of your abilities. Follow me, and I'll cover you while you do whatever it is you plan to do." The Kellid says, pulling his sword from it resting place across the barbarian's back.
Tyr dismounts and sets to hobbling his horse, gathering he reigns in and making sure the other's mounts can't leave with out them...
"I do so love it when a plan comes together..." He says quietly, with a smile. =)
Euron grins and squeezes Tunica's reins tighter as he takes in the full scene, and hears the others talking of action. While many druids in other lands sought peace and harmony, Euron was more than anxious to get into a fight. What could be more natural than two bears vying for dominance in the wild?
"As we can clearly see their intended direction, what if we ride wide and ahead of them, and lay in wait for them like a coiled snake?"
"As we can clearly see their intended direction, what if we ride wide and ahead of them, and lay in wait for them like a coiled snake?"
Following Tyr's lead, Hiram hobbles the two mules.
Looking over to Hiram as the others sneak away Tyr smiles,
"First chance I get when we have enough funds? Buy a potion or two of 'Rush', or whatever the magic is called, so I can run into battle and be able to catch up to everyone." The big man says jokingly.
Following Tyr's lead, Hiram hobbles the two mules.