Draeven looks at Kenan with his brow furrowed. Out of range?! He jerks a meaty thumb at Spivey. I highly doubt it can outrun her.
What say you little one? Up for harassing some ravens?
The tiny lyrakien grins and with a mischievous look at the hulking barbarian, speeds off. But not before flying circles around the party illuminating a trail of fine dust in her wake. Watching her, you can see Spivey taking an indirect route; sometimes keeping low to the ground, at others darting hazardously amidst passing legs. She is soon out of sight however leaving the group to wonder what will happen next.
Several minutes pass then without warning the wooded area to the west erupts in angry caws as nearly a dozen ravens take to the air. A few passing Ulfren witnessing this commotion cross themselves to ward off evil spirits but continue along their ways unhindered.
From your vantage, the large crow had remained upon its perch up until a moment ago. In the dimming light of the day, heavy shadows crept across Delmon's Glen and the backlit trees made keeping a constant vigil difficult. And yet, when the other crows took flight, you are confident that the big one did not appear with them.
Spivey returns in time for dinner. Perching upon Jeryn's shoulder, tiny bits of tree moss cling to her short skirt and bodice and she rubs smudges of dirt from her face leaving a miniscule pile of leavings on the wizard's robe as she sorts herself out. I barely got close. That bird must have eyes in the back of its head! Spivey folds her arms across her chest and pouts, To think, I used some of my best tricks and it still knew?! Humph. I only got close enough to see its wing pinions. Did you know they are blood-red in color? I've never heard of a raven with blood-red markings. They don't normally come like that. Ravens I mean. They're supposed to be all black. Or at least that's the only kind I've ever seen. It's very strange.
In response to Spivey's comments about the Raven's colouring, I noticed that. It is very unusual. Perhaps I will find out if this town has an expert on ornithology.
She approaches the innkeeper, We have noticed many ravens in the area, is that how your fine Inn got its name?
Todwitt eyes the oracle up and down as she makes her query then tilts his head in a matter of fact way, Raven's are common throughout these lands madam. As for the origin of Raven's Best, the name plays on the good omen's thought to be associated with the bird. Many an Ulfen see the presence of one or two ravens as good fortune, particularly in battle. A raven perched in your corner is said to bring you luck. Raven's Best then implies, best of luck. Course, too much of a good thing inevitably brings about the opposite. Seeing too many ravens, particularly at one time, doesn't really sit well. The concierge stops himself here, straightens his cravat and, his eyes twinkling brightly, asks, Is there anything else I can do for madam? Anything at all?
I told you sorcery was at work. No normal raven out flies Spivey, Draeven says giving the lyrakien a nod, And it doesn't look like it did. It did not take to the sky with the others when she flushed them.
I think we are being watched. So much for our "disguises".
Rennyn is quite unhappy to learn that the groups movements are likely being tracked, and quite possibly reported upon, despite their precautions.
Dealing with magic of this nature is beyond my ken. Anyone have any suggestions?
A particularly large Raven with unusual colouring caught my eye; I just wondered if it was something of a town mascot.
I could try casting hold person on it when it is flying, we could then capture it. We could also somehow encourage the townspeople to hunt it so it doesn't look like we are involved. The other option is to continue on like we are a normal travelling group and hope it loses interest.
The well dressed gnome raises an eyebrow, Unusual colouring? What do you mean? Not the usual black? Todwitt smiles pleasantly yet doesn't seem to understand by what you mean by unusual colouring.
It has red markings, highly striking and beautiful. She looks suddenly, and appealingly, unsure; Am I being silly? Is it not a raven at all? Other than the colour and size it looks just like a raven!
Todwitt stops and for a moment looks almost statuesque. He quickly recovers himself, Red markings? The gnome quietly looks to either side in an effort to spot any uninvited straining ears before leaning closer to the oracle and in a hushed voice, That, my dear, is a bad omen.. Straightening he remarks in his normal tone, Why naturally there are many beautiful birds in Delmon's Glen. One might even make a substantial study of them. Todwitt's attitude turns a little smug with the later statement and he continues in a nonchalant manner, I might recommend several trails should you wish to see them. Tell me though, where did you see this, er, fine bird?
It was perched on a tree just over there. Fenra points in the general direction of the bird. I would be happy to show you the exact spot personally if you like; you seem very knowledgeable on the subject!
Nearby?! The concierge's normally rosy face blanches but, being the professional that he is, Todwitt quickly composes himself. You flatter me. I but dabble in many subjects. The gnome smiles warmly, considering the oracle's offer of an outing then, looking Fenra up and down one more time says, I finish at 11. We can make an evening of it. Talk about anything you like. He winks and with a wry smile makes to straighten some papers.
Fenra smiles, I will see you then.
After meeting up with the others she relays the worry Todwitt expressed and his interest is seeing the bird. Perhaps he will have some more information about this unnatural raven.
Ameiko frowns dubiously, Are you sure he wants to talk to you about that bird? Sounds like you two have a date.
As the day grows late, the group finishes their bathing and eat a good meal. At 11:01, Todwitt appears holding a small book of poetry and a bottle of Chelaxian wine; a Jeggare judging by the label. Considered to be a fine wine, Jeggare vintages are usually good and not cheap.
Todwitt has changed out of his concierge uniform and into trousers and a billowy white tunic. All appearances point to one thing - this is a date. Todwitt willingly accompanies you to the spot where you'd seen the big raven but other than some trees and the usual under story, there is nothing to see. The night is cool and Todwitt offers you a well made and very warm looking travelling cloak to use on your walk. He flatters you, follows the conversation but has nothing more to add about the strange bird. He admits that such a large bird is rare for these parts and the Ulfen folk would certainly view the blood red coloring as an evil omen. In the end, he is only interested in you.
You can make what you want out of this night. Todwitt is intending this to be a romantic encounter and if you go down this road...
...well, the gnome seems to be rather talented.
Responding to Ameiko's comment Fenra shrugs, I get something out of it, one way or another.
Fenra is a bit disappointed that Todwitt has no further information on the bird but enjoys her evening nevertheless.
Rennyn remains close to Ameiko throughout the evening now that it is almost certainly confirmed that the group is being tracked. We need to be extremely careful and be ready to defend ourselves from attack at anytime, anywhere.
Perhaps when we reach Kalsgard we can procure some additional magic to confound those that wish to follow us.
Later, when Rennyn learns of Fenra's plans for the evening he refrains from trying to convince her of the danger she might be putting herself in and instead asks Draeven to keep an eye on her.
Draeven does his very best to discreetly keep tabs on Fenra and her paramour.
Land of the Linnorm Kings | Varisia | Tomgruv | Solskinn | Losthome| Encounter Map .
The evening in Delmon's Glen proves eventful for some, an eye opener for others, but peaceful for most. Draeven's watchful eye proves unnecessary as Todwitt is true to his intentions. The gnome provides Fenra with a memorable evening of poetic pleasures she'd never before encountered or expected from a man of his stature.
Ignoring the skilled craftsmanship offered by the good folks of Delmon's Glen, the party presses on early the next morning. The caravan's load is lighter by a dozen chickens purchased by the Raven's Best own chef. Although there was little sign of him actually needing the birds; he has a well stocked pantry, there is a hint of Todwitt's hand in the deal.
The road north quickly turns bad but not from poor upkeep. Well traveled, the path is scared by deep ruts which toss and jerk the caravans in sudden spasms sending anything not tied down spilling across the deck. Part way through the day a rough looking patrol of Ulfen warriors on horseback breaks up the bone jarring pace. The riders eye the caravan with suspicion but nod grimly to acknowledge the group before moving on without comment. Apparently you are not the kind of group the patrol is looking for.
After a long day, Losthome at last comes into view. A logging town, it is set along the Thundering River which is clogged with booms of lumber waiting to be sent north to Karlsgard. These booms evidently double as barges, if the tarp covered boxes laying at the center of one boom are what they seem to be.
Fenra checks over the wagons and magically mends any damage she finds, hoping to prevent little problems from becoming big ones.
She then goes with Sandru looking to get rid of the rest of the chickens and find a less smelly cargo. She keeps her eyes open for anything of interest, be it a unique or useful item, a possible enemy, or potential entertainment. Her eyes continuously scan for ravens.
Do we even bother keeping up the subterfuge of traders with a cargo? Despite our best attempts, including magical disguise, and a warding box for the seal, we have apparently been followed since we left Brinewall.
Draeven motions towards the barges in the river, Perhaps we could change out our wagons for one of those. Just to switch things up.
It is possible that the watchers don't know for sure that we are who they are looking for. They may just be waiting for us to do something out of character to know for sure.
It is not difficult. In a town full of loggers and warriors, demand for meat is high and the fresh poultry quickly disappears. Pleased, Sandru puts the proceeds on hold - no sense jumping from one deal to the next without first seeing what's available.
Losthome keeps a busy pace. Many of its residents walk with a purpose; men and women rushing to the next job, patrols coming and going or loggers and miller workers hurrying to a quick meal. There are signs of wealth on many of the folk here; mainly ornate jewelry cast in silver with swirling designs. These small pieces are worn as accessories by many and it is easy to catch glimpses here and there of finely crafted armbands, torcs, brooches, chain necklaces used to fasten tunics, as well as rings and cloak pins. The Ulfen appear to be fond of displaying their wealth yet oddly, some of these pieces also show signs of vandalism such as missing pieces or cut marks. Throughout Fenra's exploration of the town, there is little sign of the flocks of ravens which had pursued the group, however the black birds turn up. Perched on rooftops in groups of twos and threes, this land seems ripe with them. Optimistically, and despite actively looking, no one in the group sees any sign of the big one.
A large town, Losthome offers just about anything you might expect from taverns to inns, pubs and common drinking halls, brothels, shops, a well equipped militia and even a Varisian style Harrower's Shop. Fenra has seen this before. Proprietors of such places sometimes offer mystical insight, but usually make their day-to-day living from performing hedge magic or selling protective amulets and other tokens to superstitious clientele. Masters of many trades, some harrowers augment their shops with alchemy labs, artisan’s workshops, and infirmaries, depending on their role in the community. Fenra knows from experience that the owner is sure to have a Harrowing deck or twelve to sell to anyone interested.
A subtle inquiry by the big guy into traveling down the river on one of Losthome's many booms turns up the phrase, Bjóða þjófur inn í hús þitt , more than once and not in a good way.
Where brooding good looks fail, feminine charms sway. Allowing a few men to buy her ales and by slowly brushing away busy hands, Fenra discovers the owners of these booms guard their labours jealously, manning their booms and cargo with only trusted men. The expression,Bjóða þjófur inn í hús þitt, roughly translated is, To invite a thief into your house. There are boats for hire however and a well established system in place for one way travel to other towns. This became apparent after the second proposal to whisk the fair oracle away to someplace 'romantic' was a little more fully explained.
It is possible that the watchers don't know for sure that we are who they are looking for. They may just be waiting for us to do something out of character to know for sure.
Well then the jig was likely up when we destroyed those trolls without even breaking a sweat. Or when we handled those smoke beasts the other evening. "Normal" caravans wouldn't have likely fared that well.
Fenra relays what information she has gleaned to the rest of the group.
I suppose. She concedes to Rennyn, We could test the theory by having various members of the group leave the caravan and have new ones join, Then it would seem like a caravan that provides protection for travellers as well as carrying goods, that could explain our proficiency. We could see if anyone is looking to travel to our next stop and offer them passage and protection, at a price of course. Ameiko herself could even appear to reach her intended destination and then rejoin our group as another traveller. Jeryn could do the same. Then change his look and rejoin. The hat could be put to good use and Ameiko could have her chance to experiment if none of her forms are used for long.
After having discussed the plans for the next day with the group Fenra meets one of her admirers to continue her evening.
I don't think we should add any more headaches, in the form of travelling clients, to our existing problems. What we should do is inquire of other travelers that have passed the same route as us as to whether they noticed a red feathered raven following them. If we are the only group so followed then we likely have our answer.
We should probably keep the wagons at any rate. We might need them beyond Kalsgard. We could transport them upon our own barge I guess, if we can find one for sale. Or just stick with the wagons, Rennyn shrugs. I care not other than getting to Kalsgard as soon as possible. Every stop in every town are just delays to me.
Oh, and how would Jeryn alter his looks in your plan?
Armed with the knowledge of what the phrase Bjóða þjófur inn í hús þitt means, Draeven goes looking for a little justice. Finding a handful of the offenders (three rough looking log drivers) down by the docks, the green man calls them out and in Ulfen fashion; last man standing via unarmed combat, the half-orc’s challenge is accepted. With encouragement the event moves to the marine yard and a large group of workers form a circular arena. Draeven’s keen eyes spy a few of the other ruffians in the crowd - convenient.
The three square off against Draeven and immediately move in; two to either side with the bigger of the three making straight for the big guy’s face. The move is a faint however and Draeven finds himself in a tackle with the very real possibility of being pummeled into the ground by the two flanking him. At least that was the plan. Catching the maneuver, Draeven lifts one of the charger’s shoulders while pressing down on the other sending the man sprawling into the feet of the log driver advancing on the left. Keeping his momentum, Draeven spins ducking a punch to his head from the man to the right and counters with a crunching left shoulder check before planting his fist firmly into the face of the quickly recovering man on the left. With two on the deck the last advances, fists raised. The dance begins anew and the two combatants circle. Powerfully built and agile, it looks to be an even match. Then, having read all he needs of his opponent, Draeven raises to his full height, closes the distance confidently and uses his reach to level the log driver before the other’s punch can touch the big guy.
Hurrahs ring out and many of the men in the crowd exchange coins. Before the throng can disperse however, Draeven calls out the two he'd spotted earlier. As the next round begins fresh wagers are made, but no sooner are they made than the green guy cracks their two skulls. It was an uneven match, but the afternoon is young...
...Draeven returns to the caravan late in the afternoon sporting a few scrapes, bruises and bloodied knuckles. In the end, the big guy defended his honor and made
gold off of other challengers - but not because Draeven had upset anyone. The men at the dock just wanted a diversion and a chance to compete for some quick money. Apart from making a few friends, Draeven also learned the Ulfen don't hold grudges. They settle their differences like men and the authorities aren't bothered as long as there is no property damage. Over a few celebratory drinks, the half-orc learns that the phrase is basically learned discrimination. The 'risk' of theft is mainly derived from the Ulfen's natural suspicion of all strangers and for good reason. Draeven is told to be wary of spies from Irrisen. The Ulfen have been at war with this nation for well over a thousand years and raids are common in these parts. Their spies frequently roam these lands but it is unheard of for them to call out another Ulfen over a matter of honor. Spies aren't fond of attention.
And it was a good thing no one got seriously hurt. When it comes to serious matters of honor or crime, those found guilty are usually required to pay what's known as a weregild, which usually, but not always involves payment of property. If they are unwilling or unable to pay, they guilty are sold as thralls. Those convicted of serious crimes, such as betraying an oath to a liege-lord or cowardice leading to the death of allies, often receive sentences of thralldom, banishment, or a duel to the death. There is something about this system which suggests Kelda would be in a lot of trouble were she to ever return to Kalsguard.
Fortunately, Draeven's performance at the docks was entertaining, and has turned up an offer or two to work as a junior log driver. The rest of the caravan would not be allowed however. Booms are tied together only as much as needed and never big enough to transport something as large as a wagon. Large booms tend to get into jams which is a dangerous situation and sometimes result in death. No mill owner would risk transporting passengers as the resulting weregild might ruin his business.
Draeven politely declines all offers of employment while sharing a few drinks with his sparring partners. After returning to the group to report his findings he spends his prize money on a lavish dinner for his friends.
I think the river is a bust. Best to stick to the roads and what we know.
Agreed. We'll secure some goods in the morning and make for Kalsguard immediately. We'll just have to deal with whatever or whoever might be tracking our movements when the time comes.
Rennyn and Draeven are up early the next morning to get a jump on the preparations for the next leg of the journey.
Land of the Linnorm Kings | Varisia | Eldente | Solskinn | Losthome |
Preparations are quickly made and the caravan is ready to leave at first light. The road leaving Losthome is as rough as it was coming in and progress is slower than Sandru would like, or is used to. There are the usual crows, however no sign of anything larger than normal.
Twenty five miles north and on the eastern side of the Thundering River is the town of Eldentre. Known for its Lightning Oak tree, the town crest consists of a round oak shield with a large tree at its centre framed by lightning bolts. This large town also has a unique fortification system built around the town’s own central square. There an immense oak tree grows, the Lightning Oak. Heavily guarded, there is no less than a regiment of archers dressed in the town’s livery. Little else discerns Eldentre’s markets, taverns or halls from other places in this northern realm. The people seem happy, almost approachable, yet the usual Ulfen suspicions remain. Draeven's learned a thing or two from his fight club in Losthome though
For Sandru's part, he is able to find out this much from the inn’s proprietor: there are no more significant settlements until Kalsgard. Ahead, there is a spot called Skalsbridge. Nowadays Skalsbridge is more landmark than anywhere important enough to warrant a settlement and really nothing more than a camp ground. It is infrequently used by caravans as most trade travels by boom or boat however there is a good chance other travelers, such as boatmen seeking shelter, may be there on any given night.
Departing Eldentre the group continues north. Along the way the caravan passes two patrols suggesting the way north is somewhat safe and likely maintained. By midday the road divides. The east branch leads north to Hellirinn, two days away. The fork to the west leads to the crossing of the Thundering River at Skalsbridge.
Sandru leads the wagons west and towards the ancient bridge. The ancient bridge crosses where the Thundering River joins the Rimeflow from the north. The tributary meanders in a westerly direction through the country until, at its estuary, the Rimeflow passes on the southern banks of Kalsgard, another four to seven days away depending upon the road.
It is late when the caravan arrives at the camp ground yet just enough light left in the day to set up the wagons for the night.
Seeing the numerous guards around the tree Draeven inquires as to the nature/history of the tree and why it needs such protection.
Land of the Linnorm Kings | Varisia | Eldente | Solskinn | Losthome | Skalsbridge |
Understandably, not all the soldiers present around the great tree are 'on duty'. Finding one such soldier Draeven strikes up conversation and is met with the now familiar Ulfen suspicion, Who are you? What is your interest in our tree? Seeing the soldier views him as a potential spy Draeven cuts his losses by spitting on the ground and crossing himself against the evil eye; employing a little of the local superstition he'd picked up from the boom workers. The tactic works and as the soldier departs another half-orc wonders over, He clearly doesn't understand our kind. Names Busk. The kinsman is near enough to Draeven's age although a few years more and not nearly as tall. Busk stands next to a heavily laden gig. Pilled with kindling the cart looks heavy even for Draeven. The two half-orcs hit it off and in exchange for a little extra cart muscle, Busk relates what he knows, That tree's been here for generations. Acts like some kind of lightning rod attracting all kinds of lightning strikes during just about any storm. In fact, I've never seen Eldentre get struck anywhere else. Afterwards, the tree glows for hours with shimmering lights and faerie fire. And every time the elders gather around it to conduct some sort of magical ceremony. It's all got something to do with the tree helping to protect us, least that's what I've over heard some of them say, Busk points his tusked jaw to indicate a passing soldier. His work finished, Busk thanks Draeven, departs early for home and the rest of the evening passes uneventfully.
It is another cold evening. Sometime during the day the caravan crossed north into the Thanelands and one step closer to Kalsgard. The air here is just as cold and the roads just as bad. Manning the fire at the tail of the third watch is the big guy. The group had set up camp almost 150ft from the ancient bridge (to the north west) amidst a seemingly natural ring of boulders and trees just a short walk away from the Thundering River (west). The river's steady flow can be heard in the background as the heat of the fire crackles on its fuel. A fresh log was just tossed in when Draeven hears what sounds like a twig snapping. Turning he sees three men dressed in heavy cloaks pulled tight around themselves approach from the river's direction (80ft away). One of the men carries a heavy pack while the others carry lengths of rope and first impressions suggest they are river men. The men pause as Draeven turns and one of them raises a hand, Evening.
A glint of metal juts out from underneath the man's cloak at about the same spot one might hang a weapon.
Draeven, chatting quietly with Spivey by the fire stands when he hears the trio's approach. As he rises he takes hold of his great sword that had been across his lap as he sat, holding the wicked blade casually but in an intimidating manner indicating he is ready to employ the massive weapon.
In a loud voice the half-orc greets the newcomers,
The half-orc, spying a glint from beneath the man's cloak, the held ropes, and wondering how he didn't hear the approach or beaching of a boat or barge, feels his hackles begin to rise.
he continues as he gestures for them to cease their approach.
Under his breath he whispers to his tiny companion, Roust the others! as he scans the surrounding woods and listens for additional danger.
The Lyrakien hesitates for a moment, contemplating inspecting the men for the taint of evil, before realizing they are too far away. Instead she wheels about and races to the wagons to wake the others.
In his wagon, sitting cross-legged with his sword across his lap, Rennyn's trance is interrupted by Draeven's loud voice. He jumps up, sword in hand and nudges his wagon mates to waken them as well.
Land of the Linnorm Kings | Varisia | Eldente | Solskinn | Losthome | Skalsbridge |
Oh now, no need for that, the man smiles at the sight of Draeven's weapon then signals for his companions to keep moving forward. As they do, the one carrying the pack produces three shields which the others take up, We wouldn't want to see anyone get hurt, would we boys? Amid various chuckles from the others heavy cloaks part revealing battleaxes and there is no more question of their intent. As Spivey hurries off the big man's ears twitch with the sounds of more footsteps advancing on the camp. This is going to be serious.
Group B: 6 | Group C: 13
Fenra wakes with a start, her pleasant dreams interrupted. The sounds of strangers voices helping to bring her fully awake she rises quickly and silently, shaking Jeryn if he is not already alert.
Draeven replies to the intruders snide remarks in a grave tone. You should take this more seriously because someone IS going to get hurt. From the sounds of it,
He then charges at the trio as his frenzy overtakes him...
...brutally chopping the lead man with his deadly sharp sword!
Having made sure Koya and Kenan are aware of the attack, Rennyn exits the wagon to join the fight.
Once outside he scans the area for enemies...
...and calls out to Draeven, Where do you need me?
Land of the Linnorm Kings | Varisia | Eldente | Solskinn | Losthome | Skalsbridge |
...
The green man's voice bellows across the campsite. Speaking a code word from a list they'd worked out days ago Draeven calls upon the little woman to work a some magic. The lyrakien speeds out of the wagon and into the trees. From within Spivey sees one of the Ulfen warriors burst in two from Draeven's sword! Focusing, she calls upon the goddess' grace speaking a few simple arcane words as she pulls thin a small tuft of wool . Spivey's words reach one of the intruders and the man seems to pause in his tracks, his eyes glued on Draeven but nothing more . Next to him the second man raises his battle axe . With an Ulfen cry the man swings his weapon once over his head then use the axe's momentum sending it into the half-orc's side. The head of the axe connects but the blade angle fails to draw blood - yet. That hit will still leave a welt.
Stepping from the wagon Rennyn's senses scan for danger. The sounds of battle, mixed with the heavy footfalls of shield carrying men, rise to the north and as far as the elf can tell, to either side of the camp .
Within the wagons the rest of the party stirs. Ameiko shakes her head clear of her dreams and as the adrenalin kicks in, trails behind Sandru as he makes for the exit followed shortly by Shalelu. In the next wagons Kenan, Jeryn and Koya all make similar preparations.
Attackers: AC15 HP18 Battle axe +5 att. 1d8+2
BN59: Dazed to Round 2 | HP18
BN60: SAtt. | HP18
Groups B&C 2xMA 60ft
Rennyn makes for Ameiko's wagon.