The morning sun is just cresting Watcher's Keep as you gather at the ferry. You all have made arrangements for an extended absence - the journey to Orlane on foot is expected to take half a week, and you don't know how long your assignment there will keep you occupied.
As you said your goodbyes and gathered supplies, you heard a number of disturbing rumors about Orlane. Some say the town's water supply has been poisoned, or drugged in a way that is making folk act strangely. Others say a doppelganger or vampire infiltrated the town and has been preying on the refugees. It's impossible to separate truth from fiction at this point, but it's obvious something is wrong in the village.
As you rendezvous and pay your coppers to board the ferry, you have a chance to discuss the route you will take to Orlane.
The most common route heads south from the Realstream ferry, skirting the east edge of the Oytwood for a day or two, then cuts northeast along the outskirts of the Rushmoors to Orlane. A well-worn path leads this way, which was favored by traders before the invasion of the giants. Marauding bands of humanoids have made it more dangerous, but the recent reclamation of Preston by the elves may have improved conditions.
Following the Realstream northeast to the edge of the Dim Forest is another possibility, although the stories you have heard about that haunted woodland are worse than anything in the Oytwood. The sylvan elves have had less success reclaiming their enclaves in the Dim, and tales tell of darker things lurking in the shadows there.
The third option is the most direct, but carries its own risks. The plains between Hochoch and Orlane are covered with waist-high grasses that make navigating difficult for the inexperienced. They also provide ideal cover for predators -- including the fearsome landsharks whose tunneling gives some sections of the plains the appearance of tilled fields.
Which will it be?
I do not have a strong preference in the choice of our route, but I lean towards the most common path. I would know what dangers travelers face on the open road. And I do not like the sound of travel in the plains overly much.
"That is fine with me. I'd rather not face landsharks, and the Dim Forest sounds overly distracting."
Agreed - we can have more safety and possibly get some rumours from other people if we take the common path
I, too, agree with taking the most common route along the Oytwood.
Alistair looks up and also nods in agreement.
Agreeing to stick to the most well-trod path, you disembark from the ferry and begin heading south with your supply-laden mule. The morning air is brisk, but not overly so - barring an unusual cold snap, you should have little to fear from the weather on your journey.
Three elves shared the ferry with you, and head south at a brisk pace once reaching land. They favored Kierdan with a nod of recognition on the boat, but did not seem interested in talking - either preoccupied with some business of the Raven Prince's, or simply copying their lord's own tight-lipped demeanor. You keep sight of them for the first hour or two, but they slip off the trail into the Oytwood as soon as the northern reaches of the forest come into view.
You see no other travelers on the first day, which passes uneventfully. With the woods to the west of you, sunset will come early, so you begin looking for a likely campsite in the late afternoon. After a short time, you find a place where the road cuts through an outgrowth of the forest, leaving a thin copse of trees on the east side of the track. A depression in the center appears to have been used as a campsite before, based on the tracks and bits of detritus. A few half-burned chunks of wood and some old bones are piled near a crude firepit.
~~~~~0~~~0~~~~~
There seems to be a bloodstain on it.
There seems to be a bloodstain on it. A pace away, you find the snapped off shaft of a crudely-fletched arrow.
You check out a few of the bones scattered near the fire pit and see with some relief that they're from rabbits and deer, not people.
You check out a few of the bones scattered near the fire pit and see with some relief that they're from rabbits and deer, not people. But a few appear to have been gnawed on after they were burned in the fire ...
You check out a few of the bones scattered near the fire pit and see with some relief that they're from rabbits and deer, not people. But a few appear to have been gnawed on after they were burned in the fire. Some of the marks would match a small humanoid with sharp teeth. Other, larger bones have been cracked open by something with strong jaws and large canines.
Eager to be underway, Kierdan awakes early to check his gear one final time and departs the Grove to meet his travelling companions at the ferry.
While on the ferry, Kierdan acknowledges the three elves with a nod of his own, but respects their obvious desire for privacy.
As Kierdan examines the new campsite, he notices some old bones by the fire pit.
These bones look to be rabbit and deer, he says, Look here, these few appear to have been gnawed on after they were burned in the fire. Some of the marks would match a small humanoid with sharp teeth. Other, larger bones have been cracked open by something with strong jaws and large canines.
After a moment, Kierdan adds, So, we should probably set up a guard rotation, eh?
Looking around the camp some more, Kierdan spots an old tree that looks comfortable. Deciding to take a rest after a long day of walking, Kierdan sits down with his back against the tree. He thinks to himself that this would be a good spot for guard duty. He looks down at the ground and sees a glove lying there. After a few moments , he notices the glove has a bloodstain. He calls out to the rest of the group to share this discovery.
Disguised both magically and mundanely to look half elven Koralyn attempts to engage the elves in conversation but does not press then if they desire quiet or privacy.
Well met my friends. It does my heart good to know that elves still freely travel these lands. We are bound for Orlane. Can you share any news of the road in that direction? And have you heard anything about problems with the crops in those parts?
Koralyn might have asked the elves to travel south with her group but got the idea that their business was pressing.
And in a quiet moment Koralyn approaches Morten privately. I wanted to tell you that I was impressed the way you handled yourself in the fight. I know we have our differences but my hope is that we can work together as a team. There is much need in this land and I want us to be part of the solution, but I see no problem if we profit in the process. I know you have skills this group will need and want you to know that I will have your back in any fight, regardless of our differences.
Koralyn spends some time studying the area before announcing [b]I plan to ritually cast an Alarm spell before we go to sleep. That does not mean that we can forego watches though.
As she looks around she tries to discern if anything about the area suggests it might be used as an ambush sight or if there are any clues in general about those that have used it in the past.
Survival:
Perception:
Nature:
Alistair wanders over to the old fire pit and listens as Keirdan speaks about the bones found within. He nods in agreement to the cleric's assessment and moves on to sit by a comfortable tree. As he relaxes, he discovers a worn mitt sitting just off to one side. He picks it up and examines it.
Investigation:
Koralyn examines the glove with the bloodstain then seems to follow a trial of dried blood a pace away to the snapped off shaft of a crudely-fletched arrow. Pulling it from the ground she notes I am unsure if this is a safe campsite. Others have recently been ambushed here. This crude shaft speaks to me of goblins or orcs.
Kierdan considers Koralyn's words and the evidence they have gathered.
You may be right, Koralyn, this site is almost too perfect.
Morten shrugs as the others opt for the path well travelled, he'd prefer a more direct approach, but he wouldn't be the one leading the way, not a city boy like him.
"Then we're in agreement. I wasn't looking to start a fight back there, just let you know my position. Good will's all well and good, but I prefer cold hard coin. As long as we're clear on that I see no problem."
"By the way, I didn't touch that woman back at the bar... at least nowhere she didn't want me to. I just... overplayed my hand a little. She didn't enjoy being reminded of the husband she was about to cheat on." he says with a smirk and a shrug. "Ya win some, ya lose some."
Morten trudges wearily towards the rear of the party after the ferry lands. That's what he hated the most about the wilderness it was so... big, and full of things that wanted to kill and/or eat you. and mud. Even so he doesn't complain, padding on until they reach the campsite where he throws himself down, allowing the others to check out the campsite. When they find their issues he sits up with a sigh. "Okay, so we find another campsite then? The goblins'll still be out there."
Hauling himself to his feet he begins to look around the rest-spot himself, looking for anything the others might have missed.
After finding the bloody arrow, you spend the remaining light scanning the grove for additional clues. You discover more tracks, from both goblins and wolves, but none appear to be more recent than three or four days.
You find nothing to suggest the grove is a repeated ambush site. Instead, it looks like the previous campers set out a single sentry who appears to have been sitting against the tree when killed - perhaps asleep, or otherwise incapacitated. The others were surprised, with most killed in their bedrolls. The goblins and wolves then appear to have stripped the camp, dragging the spoils south into the woods, parallel to the road.
With night falling, you could move on, but you'd risk stumbling into a worse situation or failing to find a suitable place to rest. Staying put offers a defensible position with good sight lines, at the risk of positioning yourselves in a location where the goblins have preyed in the past.
What will it be?
Dragomir looks over the site with the practiced eye of a mercenary. This place will do but with double guard on each watch - cold rations only, no fire.
Morten sighs, but nods in agreement. Wandering around in the dark didn't seem any better. He pulls over his pack to look over his options for dinner.
"agreed in that sleeping here is better than rolling the dice in the dark."
I shall set the alarm spell so that is sounds an audible alarm to wake any who are sleeping.
Alistair looks up at the woman's statement about an alarm spell. He looks her over and scratches his head, then writes something down in the book he has open.
Morten glumly munches on his heel of bread and cheese before pulling out his lyre and tuning it up. His mood is well reflected in his playing however, the music a little too eerie and depressing and after a couple songs he gives up on it. "Wake me when it's my watch." he mutters before wandering off to try and find somewhere comfortable to sleep, doing so fully armored, and with both of his weapons on their belt at his side.
Kierdan picks a spot and drops his back. As he listens to Morten's eerily sad playing, he unwarps his bedroll.
Standing, he says, If it is all the same with everyone, I would prefer the last shift. I am sure you wouldn't be surprised to hear that I prefer to be up with the dawn.
Done. I could use the sleep. I'll take first watch then.
Fears of a goblin attack make the night a long one, but it passes uneventfully. Dragomir and Alistair take the first watch, followed by Eldramin and Morten.
The sun rises as Koralyn and Kierdan finish their own turn as sentries. As Kierdan finishes his morning prayers, facing into the eastern sky, he hears the cry of a bloodhawk - or rather, a very good imitation of one.
Smiling, he turns to see a familiar face, as a cloaked and hooded wood elf emerges from behind a nearby tree.
"Your friend watching the road is a fine sentry, but her half-human eyes are not so keen as to catch sight of one of the hae-taur'ohtar," Varisthas says, clasping Kierdan's wrist in the three-fingered manner of the Oytwood's elven guard. The elf and the cleric had shared a number of watches while fighting the giants and guarding refugees in the western Oytwood.
"The couriers who shared your ferry mentioned they had seen you," he says, responding to Kierdan's questioning look. "I was headed this way and thought I would pass along a warning: We chased a band of goblins from the woods a fortnight ago, and they've been preying on the humans traveling this way since then. Their numbers have dwindled, but their leader - a shaman with a twisted leg - has kept them together when the wretches otherwise might have crawled into some dark cave to lick their wounds.
"Be forewarned, the shaman is a worg-caller, and the goblins have half a dozen of the beasts they use as mounts. If they catch your scent, they'll run you down. But perhaps these can help to even the odds."
Varisthas hands Kierdan four flasks. Two are marked with the elven rune for healing. The other two are made of thinner ceramic and bear the rune for fire.
"The worgs fear the flame," he says, clasping Kierdan on the shoulder once more. "Now, I must return to my people's halls in the forest, although I wouldn't say no to a drink and a bite of breakfast if you have some to share."
Kierdan is finishing his morning devotion, basking in the warmth of the Sun Father's radiance, when he hears the old, familiar signal.
Turning, he sees an old comrade. He smiles as he clasps hands with the elf.
My old friend, Kierdan says warmly. It is truly good to see you again. That other sentry is Koralyn, and she is a wizard of some skill.
Kierdan listens carefully to Varisthas' story, nodding with understanding as he describes the worg-caller. He accepts Varisthas' gifts gratefully and says,
Varisthas, thank you for these potions! We will put then to good use!
Kierdan then goes to his pack and breaks out some rations and spreads them out on a small blanket. Come, let us break our fast together. Tell me, how are things in the Forest Hall? How goes the fight against the giants?
As they eat, they discuss the current state of Geoff and the Oytwood. They recall old memories and catch up on current news. At one point in the conversation, Kierdan mentions that they are making for Orlane.
Have you any news from the March? I have heard a rumor that they are suffering from low output in their crops this season.
Sitting back to back with the cleric Koralyn asks quietly Kierdan, I need your guidance and perhaps your help. These others with us, I would encourage them towards the path of light. We have a rogue, a mercenary, a warlock that has made a pact with who knows what dark power, and what seems to be an inwardly focused wizard. Yet I sense the potential within our strange group for great acts. But I fear I lack the the skill and patience to lead them, or even encourage them towards the light. What advise do you have for me in this regard? And how might we work together to further the causes of the people of Geoff and to provide guidance to this team?
Hearing voices behind her Koralyn turns to see the intruder in her camp. She tenses but for a moment as she takes in Kierdan's relaxed posture and even pleasure at seeing an old acquaintance. Moving quietly so as not to wake those still sleeping Koralyn joins the two, offering Yes, a friend met on the road is always welcome. Share our breakfast and tell us more of this area if you know more. Something worse than goblins plague the farmlands around Orlane if what we hear is true and if nothing can be done to help them reap a reasonable harvest I fear many will starve this winter and the defenders of Geoff will be weakened.
Kierdan considers Koralyn's words before quietly responding.
I, too, have sensed greatness in this diverse group. As you said, we all have such different backgrounds and I have to wonder, if the Occupation never occurred, would we ever have known of each other's existence, let alone talk with one another.
Kierdan pauses, then continues, The only thing we really have in common is that we have all suffered greatly, in our own way, during the Occupation. I sincerely believe there is good, or at least the potential for good, in all of our comrades, but the last thing they want right now, after all they have been through, is for a couple of strangers preaching at them on the right and the wrong of our quest. And I say "strangers" on purpose because, truly, that is what we yet are to each other. But I am confident that our bonds of friendship will go stronger as we share good times and bad together. In the meanwhile, let us endeavor to illuminate our way with light and have the patience to trust in Pelor's radiance to show our rogue, mercenary, wizard, and warlock the path of mercy and compassion.
Kierdan sees Koralyn approach and indicates a spot at the blanket for her to join the old friends at breakfast.
Ah, Koralyn, please join us. This is my friend Varisthas. Varisthas, this is Koralyn.
Varisthas frowns slightly as he takes Koralyn's hand, as if encountering something unexpected. He seems to peer at her closely before shrugging off some momentary curiosity.
"A pleasure to meet you, lady," he says, taking a seat near the fire as Kierdan begins laying out the meal.
"I wish I had more than warnings to share, but my duties do not often take me outside these woods. I have seen the caravans from Orlane thin, then stop entirely, but I do not know the reason. One or two were lost to raider bands such as these goblins, so I had assumed that might be the reason, but if what you say is true then some evil closer to home may be responsible."
"The Rushmoors themselves are a cursed place, steeped in the ancient evil of the lich-lord Vecna's making. But I had always heard that the fields around Orlane were blessed by some goddess, brought there by the Oeridians or predating the village itself. Their wine certainly was of uncommon vintage, much better than typical human fare. Perhaps the goddess's servants can tell you why her favor has been withdrawn."
Dragomir raises a quizzical eyebrow and furrows his forehead at the appearance of a new breakfast companion but says nothing, letting the elvish types talk things out. When talk of Orlane finishes he airs his views... Not sure now if visiting Orlane isn't more trouble than what it may be worth. I was in favour of checking it out, using it as a possible base of operations for our own exploration into the Rushmoors but with no traffic coming out of the area at all? Could be anything from plague to martial law or a siege.
"we won't know if we don't look. Have you no curiosity?"
Alistair watches the group talk about the status of Orlane, and jots down a few notes in his book. Once finished, he repacks his things and joins the group around the fire.
Morten rises from his bed late, clearly not having enjoyed being awoken in the middle of the night to take guard duty. He doesn't complain however... at least nothing above an inaudible mutter and goes about taking another cold meal with a soft scowl. He brightens slightly as Dragomir changes his mind about this whole Orlane business, and silently shakes his head in mute reply to Eldramin's question.
"Curiosity is a luxury, and there are much better things in life to invest in."
Aye Dragomir, there could be trouble in Orlane. I'd see for myself though. Lets stick with the plan until we know more. But lets be cautious in our approach so that we do not commit to someone before we are well informed. Agreed?
"Pursuits of the mind are rarely wasted ventures. Let us learn more."
Raising an eyebrow at the group's apparent differences of opinion, Varisthas thanks Kierdan for the meal and gathers his things. Grasping the priest's hand warmly, he bids the group farewell and heads into the shadowed quiet of the Oytwood.
Packing up your own provisions, you are soon on the move, following the rutted trail southeast along the outskirts of the wood. On watch for signs of goblins, you find ample evidence that a band passed this way within the past few days, but you see none of them as the day progresses.
You stop for the day where the fringe of the Oytwood meets the northwest edge of the Rushmoors. The track branches east from here, cutting a course on the still firm ground where the grasslands give way to buzzing marsh. You set another cold camp, taking similar precautions to the previous night. All three watches pass uneventfully.
You see clouds gathering over the plains the next morning, with a swift wind from the north likely to drive them over you within a few hours. Grumbling at the prospect of a wet march, you set off to the east.
Perhaps a quarter mile half a mile from your camp, you happen to glance back toward the Oytwood. You see a strange, four-legged figure prowling about the remains of your campsite -- blinking, you see the figure is a worg, with a goblin on its back. The goblin gazes in your direction for a moment, then whirls its mount and races into the woods to the west.
You have the sinking feeling that you may not be marching in the rain, but running.
Eldramin reaches back to grab his shield, and summons his blade to hand.
"Great, the locals have arrived to invite us to dinner... their dinner."
Should have learned something by now on how to pick a battleground but I've got little to work with and I should have paid more bloody attention, Dragomir cursed inwardly.
Kierdan looks at the plains to the north, then at the moors to the south.
If we go north, sure as dawn, those worgs will run us down. I think there is really only one way to go, and that is south.
Looking at the edge of the moors, Kierdan begins to look for possible defensive locations.
Not seeing anything obvious, he asks the mercenary, Dragomir, what do you think?
Should have learned something by now on how to pick a battleground but I've got little to work with and I should have paid more bloody attention, Dragomir cursed inwardly.
Survival:
Thinking back to a book his mentor once had him read on military tactics, Alistair glances around the area for a defensible position.
Dragomir curses.
Damn it all I normally had someone to supply the skull sweat, he says as he rubs a hand over a stubbled chin.
He points at the same location as that of Kieran and says Looks good enough.
If we choose the grasslands maybe we could start a fire that would blow towards them? Koralyn offers but then thinks better and adds But with their movement they could likely circle around unless we caught them all at once.
Koralyn will try to use Deception to throw off their tracking and buy the group more time. And once we choose the place we will defend she will try to gain some advantage using stealth.
With something approaching consensus, you strike off to the south, moving with speed across the increasingly soggy ground.
Despite their military experience, neither Eldramin nor Dragomir were pathfinders. At best, the pair point out a relatively open area of high ground that would provide long, clear views of anyone approaching, but little in the way of hard cover or restricted approaches.
Frowning at the warriors' indecisiveness, Alistair performs some quick mental calculations.
"Based on the speed of the water in that channel and the number of crows, we should find both higher ground and denser ground cover in that direction," the wizard says, before lifting his robes and heading into ankle-deep swamp water.
Minutes later, you climb a slight rise onto a tree-studded hill. An old, circular ruin stands at the crown, reflecting the noon sun. There's not much too it, but several partial walls could be used for cover. The ruin might give some height advantage, although the layout allows attackers to come from multiple angles.
To the west, a third site offers different benefits. Lower, the area is bordered by pools of swamp water that would hinder approach from that side. Several downed trees in the center could provide cover, while funneling enemies into a few corridors. Your own movement would be limited, however.
Hearing the howls of worgs and goblins behind you, you know you have only minute to make a decision and ready yourselves for battle.