Garrun's disappointment at the first sniff of the bottle passes quickly, "Beggars and choosers I suppose. My thanks Joe.", he slips a worn gold piece across the counter.
Grabbing the cups he passes one to each of his former traveling companions and pours a generous measure of the sharp spirit, "A toast then. To new beginnings and glory wherever you might find it."
"New beginnings," murmurs Opalia from the back of the group. "And glory," she adds taking another sip of the weak cordial. "Thank you very much for this, Garrun."
The sickly sweet drink is enjoyable simply for the taste of brambles and hedgerow fruit. Opalia's tongue licks around her mouth as she investigates the flavour and how it could be made better.
There are opportunities here.
"I like this place. Have a good feeling about the keep already - even if the roads need attention."
Dai is somewhat startled to be included in the group and mumbles his thanks to Garrun. He sips a small amount of the liquid, then politely sets it aside. He listens to the elf tell of her impressions of the place, and searches his own feeling.
The mountains ringing the Valley, and the walls ringing the Keep, mean that darkness comes early to the Bree-Yark Inn. That, the full bellies from the stew, the alcohol, and the long tiring days on the road take their toll, and heads begin to nod. Doris announces that the rooms are ready, and baths are available in the kitchen for one silver each, including soap and towel.
"Thanks for the drink, Garrun." Lucian says raising his glass. "To new beginnings."
Finnick nodded his approval to Opalia's suggestion of sharing a room together. Once Doris brought the pails of water Finn took off the saddlebags and all the heady travelling gear the two carried. Even taking off the leather armor to which Mr Scruffles looks relieved and gave a great shake of his fur. Finnick took everything up to the room and put it all securely way. He came back with only his slingstaff and some light comfy clothing and towels.
"I'll join you all shortly, we're just going to freshen up so long."
Finnick took his shirt off and proceeded to give Mr Scruffles a good wash down then got some fresh water and washes whatever dirt he accumulated from washing Mr Scruffles off of him.
A short while later the two were with the group enjoying some stew and drinks.
"Opalia, I think we will get along just fine and you are no interruption at all. Mr Scruddles meet Opalia... er sorry I didn't get your last name?" Finn says with a gulp of the cordial. To which Mr Scruffles raises his paw as if for a handshake.
"And please, my friends call me Finn. Mr Lockwood was my father." He says with a wink.
Fin raises a hand up and waves frantically to get the attention of Doris. "Sorry um, Doris, cold I get another bowl of stew and water for Mr Scruffles? Thank you kindly."
After the meal while the party continue to talk and get to know one another, Finnick mostly listens to the stories and not sharing too much of his own. He felt he did way too much talking on the way here and he was tired but didn't want to seem rude. But he was always glimpsing over to Mr Scruffles who was curled up next to the fireplace enjoying some rest and warmth.
The group is roused early the next morning by the sound of clattering pans in the kitchen, and the wafting smell of toasting bread and frying eggs. Doris bustles about serving breakfast, and Joe is already performing a morning inspection of the ale.
It seems that breakfast in the Inn is quite a popular affair, with various locals popping in for eggs and toast, although this mainly seems to be an excuse to get a look at the new arrivals, and especially the more exotic among them.
Several small groups of soldiers, obviously just off the night watch, are having an ale and some food before bed. Also, in one corner, a tall blonde man in an officer’s uniform has set up a table with a ledger and pen and ink. It soon becomes clear that this is a daily surgery, where the military and civilian parts of the Keep meet. A couple of locals bring minor complaints or requests to the offier, and he also spends a long time in conversation with the caravan master, working out payments for supplies and future orders.
After a while he approaches the group as they are eating.
“Moring. Freeswords eh? Heard there was a new group arrived. I’m Captain Willis and you will find me or one of my Lieutenants here most mornings. Just wanted to make sure we all understood each other. Rules of the Keep are simple. Don’t obstruct the soldiery in any way, the inner courtyard and its buildings are off-limits without a military escort, and if the general alarm sounds, grab a weapon and obey the orders of the nearest person in a uniform. Apart from that you can come and go as you please. Any booty brought back to the keep – including coin, treasure, gear, equipment, mounts or trade goods or similar – should be reported here the next morning, and is subject to a thirty per cent salvage tax. Let’s just say we don’t take kindly to those that accept the protection of the Keep but try to avoid paying their way. If you want a Freesword’s Charter, it’s 500 gold for the year – the advantage of that is that we’ll share intelligence with you, and expect you to do the same, and that the salvage tax drops to ten per cent. Any questions?”
"Is there a temple within the keep, and if so, to which god does it serve?"
If there is a temple, Nogrogomed will pay a visit
"There is a priest of Gorum and two acolytes. There is a public shrine in the outer gate tower that you may visit - ask whoever is on guard at the gate to open the door. Swordfather Gryffths is... advanced in his years of service, so doesn't get out much. If you have desperate need of him, ask the guards at the inner gate. The acolytes usually tend to the civilian needs."
"Captain Willis, should you ever need extra sword hands in defense consider us at your service!" Finn salutes with a grin on his face and his point punctuated by a bark of agreement from Mr Scruffles.
Finn then tilts his head as if there's a thought rolling around his head like a ball and he's trying to catch it. Mr Scruffles stares at him as if waiting to hear what Finnick had to say.
"Have the outlying lands been mapped at all? Notes made where threats lurk or have been cleared? Things like that?"
Finnick looks around at the rest of the group and continues "So what're everyone's plans now that we're here? Maybe we some of us have similar errands we can run together and save time."
"Opalia Ceylinian or Moongem Nightdancer in common tongue, Finn."
After a pleasant nights sleep, Opalia is up early, in fact its still dark when she leaves the room and makes her way to the donkey. Cleaning the animal and singing as she wastes the early hours. Sparratt sits on a wooden stall ledge and croaks away communing together as she becomes attuned to the magics that their link shares.
It may be Sarenrae, it may be someone else however the good witch makes her way round all the animals in the stables, healing freely as she can. Once a day anyone can benefit. When the stablehand arrives, Opalia introduces herself and chats away with him for an hour or so, pointing out how the donkey doesn't like water much. He will kick the bucket if he can.
Then she leaves and wanders around to the Inn itself again to see if Doris or Joe would mind her help.
"I am bored. Helped the stablehand and animals and now it is still early but I have nothing more to do. Can I help you? I've been awake for hours waiting for the Keep to dawn."
--------------
When the Captain makes their acquaintance, Opalia shakes his hand and asks the obvious, "we are new here. Could you tell us how the Keep fares and what we may be able to assist the Keep with? Just so no one treads on any toes or causes you offence through a lack of knowledge. Also if any of your troops requires medical attention I would be happy to help." Her smile is golden if maybe a touch naive.
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The captain tears a sheet of paper out of his ledger and quickly sketches a rough map. ”The valley is about 10 miles long – the river goes down the middle mostly – turns into a swamp here where it’s blocked by these three small hills, then flows northward. Apparently it empties into a cave system somewhere to the northeast. The road, such as it is, follows the river for the most part, crosses it at the Old Bridge – be careful, the stones are loose – and then goes south, up towards the Dwarven lands. My men patrol the road, and we have a small outpost where it leaves the valley, but apart from that it’s wild country, I’m afraid. Could be anything out there.”
He ponders for a moment – “For what it’s worth, goblinoid activity seems to be centered around the northeast – may be related to some of those caves, but I don’t have the men to investigate. And as for ‘lost Quasqueton, which everyone seems interested in – well, those woods are thick – could be anywhere.”
Dai wakes at his normal time and makes his way down to the inn's courtyard. He spends a few minutes in silent meditation before he leaps up and starts to work his way through his normal morning workout routine. He stretches, flips, jumps and generally works up a good sweat! Once finished, the sets a target up and with almost mechanical motion, sends arrow after arrow down range into the target he made out of the loose stacked hay. He stops only to listen to Opalia sing as she works with the animals.
As the evening wears on, Garrun proceeds to finish the bottle of blueberry gin, glad to share with any others who decide to partake. He will happily chat with those willing but keeps the conversation focused on present and plans for the future, shying away from any reminiscing of the past. Eventually, he downs a large pitcher of water to ward off the worst of a hangover and heads for that baths offered by Doris before finding his way to the room he will be sharing with Ichabod and promptly passing out, his snoring indeed fit to rival that of his dwarven companion.
Come the morning, Garrun is up before most despite the mild headache pulling him back to bed. Passing through the inn just as breakfast preparations are getting underway, he offers a wave and a smile to Opalia as she returns from her own early morning activities. Heading outside, he makes his way out to the stables, hoping they will provide a suitable combination of space and relative privacy as he works his forms and offers his effort to the Lord in Iron. Finished, he returns to an inn transformed by the breakfast rush. Nodding respectfully to the off duty soldiers, Garrun pulls a chair next to the others from the caravan and heartily tucks into a plate of fried eggs and toast.
The young warrior listens intently as Captain Willis approaches them, sighing only slightly when it becomes clear the more detailed information about the surrounding area and it's threats he desires is only likely to come at a steep price. One higher than he himself had the means to cover.
To those paying attention, Garrun blanches visibly at the mention of other Gorumites here at the keep. Taking a sip from his hip flask to quiet his discomfort, he casually tucks the iron Gorum symbol around his neck into his shirt collar before returning to the conversation at hand.
"Captain, Sir.", he winces slightly at his slip of ingrained language, "Um, these goblin tribes. What sort of threat do they actually pose to the surrounding region? Can't be too dire given your lack of attention or is it indeed a pure matter of short hands? No offense meant, just unsure of the situation out here. The caravan master spoke of high bandit activity towards the dwarven lands. One group or many by your estimation?"
"The goblins spent most of their time fighting amongst themselves, as far as I can tell. Occasionally a big chief, or a hobgoblin platoon, or something will whip them into shape - then they try to ambush our patrols, or raid the animals when they are put out to pasture. That doesn't usually last long, as the warband falls apart fairly quickly. I understand it's been a generation since they attacked the Keep itself."
He ponders a moment. "As for bandits - well, we're a bit out of the way to attract much interest. A few times a year there will be caravans come down from the dwarven cities, trading metalwork, weapons, whisky, things like that, in exchange for meat, cheese, herbs, honey and other fresh produce. we've had a bit of trouble in the past with brigands - mostly ex-soldiers, particularly hobgoblins, waylaying them."
"GrroOOLF!" Mr Scruffles barks, taking everyone a bit by surprise... Except Finnick of course.
"Right. What's the lost Kwas... Quasiquatle?" he says matter of factly though fumbling on the pronunciation, as if translating what the dog had said for everyone to understand.
Garrun considers the Captain's evaluation for a time, before replying, "These dwarven caravans. Do they follow a schedule of sorts? Are we due for one any time soon?"
So far the goblins sounded the most promising to the warpriest. Hardly a dire threat but then again Garrun wasn't entirely certain what he'd been expecting so far from civilization. While the keep might be safe, it didn't seem this Captain Willis cared overly for the surrounding smallfolk. Such was the way of soldiers everywhere it seemed.
What is Quasqueton?
"Ah, the local legend. A wizard's lair from long ago - he was Azlanti, or an ally of the Whispering Tyrant, or a summoner of genies from distant Osirion, or whatever the teller of the tale believes. Apparently one day the wizard left to explore other worlds, and never returned. His lover, a warrior, never left, hoping one day that the wizard would return. His skeleton apparently waits on the throne, his powerful magic sword still drawn across his boney knees... Well, I think it's mostly nonsense, but even the goblin tribes believe it - the last warlord, a few years ago, claimed he had a 'magic burney stick' that he pillaged from the wizard hold. If you can find it - well who knows what might be inside."
Is there a dwarven caravan due?
"Oh no - not yet. They come midsummer to trade for honey, cheese, fish herbs and cabbage,and again in mid autumn for meat, berries and grain. It's almost like a fair outside the keep. You'll like it - if you stay that long."
The weather seems much improved as the day at the Keep begins. It becomes clear how much life there resembles a small village or hamlet, rather than a military base. The civilians raise animals, pasture them near the Keep, hunt rabbits and game birds, and even have a number of vegetable gardens and barley fields sheltered from the wind in the lea of the Keep's walls. That morning, there is a great fuss as a number of wooden beehives are loaded onto handcarts, ready to be placed around the Keep to access the first spring flowers - it seems that honey is a valuable product for the Keep, much desired by the infrequent dwarven traders for making mead and sweet cakes.
"i say let's head out around the keep for the morning. Let's meet some of the locals shall we? These are the people that will be our aid should hard times befall us and perhaps we can do offer to handle and evening patrols outside the keep?
Or plot a course and check out some of the land outside the keep? Maybe we avoid the dragon and the wizard for the moment? I don't feel quite equipped for those. So maybe come to them later." Finn rambles on a bit before several barks erupt from his "advisor". "What? Oh yes I know you don't like giant spiders. Neither do I. Yes yes. We should eradicate them. I thought you hated rats more?! Oh you still do. Fine fine spiders are a close second. Ahem. Aaaanyhoooo... Whadda you guys think?" almost simultaneously the pair turn and face the rest of the group questioningly.
"Yes please!" answers the elven witch keen to get on. "No dragons or wizards right. Can we explore the woods too? I'd like to see what there is growing round the vale."
Opalia then leaves and heads across to have a chat with the apothecary in the store. Just in case there is anything she wants her to forage for? Some herbalists are secretive with where the best plants and roots lie so she may not want the elf's help.
"Hey Rachel, I'm Opalia Ceylinian and would you like me to help you? As a fellow healer and alchemist, even if just learning the area and what it holds."
The provisioner's store stands next to the pawnbroker's. Opalia pushes the door open and is hit with a wave of scents from the various foodstuffs stacked on shelves around the room, and open barrels and boxes scattered through it. Pungent cheeses, some laced with finely chopped herbs and pieces of fruit, baked game pies topped with wild cranberries, fermenting sauerkraut, long links of dry sausage, cured hams, pots of jam, and hard loaves of dark barley bread are everywhere.
A plain dark haired woman stands behind a work table packing pies into straw-lined boxes. She looks up as the elf witch enters.
"Morning!" she calls "With you in a moment - really busy today - have to get all these packed for the merchants to load before they leave tomorrow."
"Oh goodness me, no, I'm no alchemist. I mainly use cooking herbs in my pies and sausages. I mean I make the odd dose of herbal tea to seel to the people here - mainly for headaches and the women's cramps and things like that. The local hunters usually pick me the odd bunch of herbs or berries on their travels."
She puts the last pie into a crate, and lowers the lid.
"Tell you what though - the ramps and wild garlic should be coming through just about now. I'll pay a penny for any you can bring me. And if you need herbs, well, I've got dried stores of most of the common cooking ones I can sell, but nothing too exotic I'm afraid."
"Rachel that's fine. I'll get you what you want. Of course. I just knew I'd be happy here with all you great people."[/b] Rachel gets an impulsive hug and then the elf maiden hurries out to not miss the rest of the day.
"ramps...ramps and garlic."
Lucian walks along slowly behind the others. She's an excitable type isn't she? he things to himself.
"Shall we be off to see what lies around this place? Wizards and dragons excluded of course."
"It's a nice enough day, good day to talk a walk through the woods as per Opalia's suggestion. All those in favour say 'Aye'. AYE!" Finnick says with. Smile and a twinkle in his eye.
"RAOOF! Mr Scruffles follows.
"Aye?", Dai says uncertainly.
"I've spent the last two years in the woods, I am happy to return"
"Me too!" answers the elf returning from her brief visit. She has her laden donkey and smiles to see everyone else getting ready.
Garrun smiles, "I'd relish the chance to walk at something other than a wagon's pace and I welcome the company. We should ask after landmarks or locals who make their home in the forest. Give ourselves a destination."
"Opalia, perhaps we should compare notes sometime. We seem to have a common interest in the alchmical."
Heading Out
The weather has improved in the Valley, with a dull overcast, but mostly dry day with the occasional squall of drizzle being about as good as it gets at this time of year. The ground alongside the Old Dwarven Road is still sodden and heavy with the snowmelt, and small streams drain everywhere, heading down into the fast-flowing river that carves its way down the centre of the Valley.
As the road descends into the valley, the forests press in on each side, and the Keep is soon lost to view. Sometimes the trees overhand the road itself, and in many places the road is littered with blown branches. Many fallen trunks have obviously been pushed aside by passing patrols.
The pressing woods, and the ringing mountains beyond them, block much of the weak sunlight, casting much of the road in perpetual gloom. There is a sense of claustrophobia. But also a deep abiding quiet – very few birds call out, and only a few early hardy insects flit around.
The eerie silence causes Lucian to draw his blades as he walks along, his head on a constant swivel.
"It's too damned quiet... he mutters to himself as much as anyone else.
"Lucian, perhaps you are just not used to the peaceable quiet to be found in nature. Cities, in my experience, are needlessly and obnoxiously loud."
<- +2 to find hidden objects (inc. secret doors and traps)
"Might be something to that." Lucian concedes. "Most of my time out in wilderness has been spent either around a bunch of loud-mouthed braggarts or traveling along side a caravan."
"Neither one is particularly quiet." he adds with a crooked half-grin.
Perception:
"These are like no wood I have travelled...though I have not travelled as widely as most of you, but it does seem oddly quiet...."
"Aw it's just some woods. Animals probably all still sleepy so soon after the snowfall. I'm sure it's fine. Mr Scruffles would let me know if all was out of order. Right buddy."
"Might be something to that." Lucian concedes. "Most of my time out in wilderness has been spent either around a bunch of loud-mouthed braggarts or traveling along side a caravan."
"Neither one is particularly quiet." he adds with a crooked half-grin.
Garrun offers an amused grin in return, "Think braggarts are bad, try traveling with a company of soldiers."
"Still...I agree it seems much too calm. In my experience, nature is as much conflict and struggle as civilization, most just don't see it."
"Opalia, perhaps we should compare notes sometime. We seem to have a common interest in the alchmical."
"Sure Nogrogomed. We can walk and talk if you like? Rachel in the keep wants wild onions and garlic so if you see any then let's grab some."
Opalia is happy to talk quietly with Nogrogomed until the drizzle hits the party every so often. Then she has to devote time to the donkey as it stubbornly will not walk much at all. Also she has to unstring her bow.
In the gloom and wet, the elven maiden finds it difficult to concentrate on the abundant nature all around her. Drips fall from her hood and nose even off her eyelashes. She wipes them away again.
Quiet? I wish this donkey wouldn't pull so hard. I wish it was not raining. Just keep going - like the others and pretend its all fine. It is fine.
Perception
Ichabod, kicks at the ground, and stumbles on roots and patches of grass...
Nice soft bed, warm room, walls and a roof. Sometimes I wonder why I chose this life.
Garrun chuckles good-naturedly at Opalia's efforts, "You'd have done better leaving the beast at home. After the days of marching out here I'm sure it would rather be warm in the stable munching oats than wandering out here.", the warrior shugs, "Truth be told it's probably got the right of it."
Opalia laughs out loud at the jest from Garrun. She shakes her head and admits, "you know I call it donkey. Not a real name - it is so stubborn about water that it never gets its own name. But I don't want to leave my kits and tools anywhere yet until I have a home. So Garrun, donkey is coming whether he is right or wrong!"
The girl is re-energised by the interaction, she tries harder to pay attention to the track and shrouded woods.
"You were a soldier?"
Finn riding upon Mr Scruffles seeing their Dwarven comrade trots up to Ichabod. "A silver piece for your thoughts sir Dwarf."
Knowledge(nature)
Survival
Perception
The unnatural hush continues, making the group somewhat on edge. Suddenly Finn’s hound growls, and the growl is repeated, deeper and more menacingly, by something off the road.
Something large and brown is moving parallel to the road, in the trees. There is a crashing of branches, and a bizarre face, beaked and almost avian, emerges with a hungry look in its eyes. It would be almost comical, if it weren’t for the bear-sized body of muscle and claws behind it.
It growls again, and, the growl is echoed further down the path. A second of the creature, slightly smaller, emerges from the other side of the path. Both creatures look lean and their coats are dull, suggesting that they have had a bad winter, and intend to make up for it now…
One of the beasts lurks in the woods, sniffing and growling, waiting for an opportunity, while the one closest to the group barrels forward and claws hungrilly at Opalia's pony.
The pony screams as the beast's claws rake its flank.
Rotation:
Owlbear 2
Owlbear 1
Opalia - May Post
Garrun - May Post
Dai - May Post
Finn
Ichabod
Lucian
Nogrogomed
With his senses already peaked due to the unusual silence, Dai is not surprised when the beast bursts from the underbrush. While not surprised by the attack, he is still taken aback by the creature attacking them. He swiftly sends two arrows towards the hulking beast as it lays into Opalia's donkey.
Attack-ranged:
Damage:
Attack-ranged:
Confirm crit:
Damage: