"Aye lass I know of the fungus ye speak of, not the best tasting stuff. Me mum always made me sister and meself try em. I just feed em to da big rats we had around."
Reinar grins to the sick townsfolk and makes his way to the shop, lowering his head to get inside. Once there, he stays silent, close to the wall.
"Well, that is a start. I suggest you head to the Consortium Lumber Camp to the east and look for Milon Rhoddam, the most experienced woodsman in this region. If there is anyone who knows where these things are, it is Milon. What are you waiting on? Shoo!"
Time is of the essence in this campaign. Folks are dying and only Laurel with your help can stop it. FYI:
For the first two days from the start of the adventure, 1d4 townsfolk die from blackscour taint every day. On the third day, 2d4 townsfolk die, then 3d4 on the fourth day, with the death toll increasing an additional 1d4 every day until a total of forty villagers have perished. Once forty townsfolk die from blackscour taint, the malady has run its course, killing all those unable to overcome the disease on their own. If the PCs take up the search for a cure and fail to return to Falcon’s Hollow by this time, they are widely shunned and blamed by many for the deaths of their loved ones. Each morning I will let you know how many have perished the day before. Sunrise is 05:00 and sets at 19:00 giving you 14 hours of daylight. You can travel 8 hours a day without issue and you will cover some ground.
As you exit the shop, Sheriff Baleson is there talking to and stroking the promised mount. A little girl is hugging the pony. She looks at you with puffy red eyes. Anastasia is beautiful pony. She is as white as newly fallen snow without a speck of any other color. Her mane is completely braided. Bows of all colors adorn them. There must be a hundred or more. She is saddled and bridled, both are bright pink. Two large bundles of hay are strapped to her. The sheriff looks at Rhen and sternly says "If anything happens to my little girl's.....Well, let's don't even think about that. You all be careful out there and please hurry back." The sheriff leaves with his daughter as she wails in grief.
Several of the townsfolk in line hurl insults at Reinar. They spit at him and a few throw whatever they can find at him.
One of the townsfolk sees Zevon. "There's my honey! Come on pretty boy I have some fun things planned for you. Come to momma!" She swings her switch about in the air.
Reinar ignores the insults as if flies were buzzing around his head. He takes the lead of the marching order unless someone objects. He turns to Bulgard.
"You seem more familiar to this lands the rest of us, what path you suggest we take?"
Bulgard gazes out, studying the land. He reaches to the ground and pulls a handful of grass and dust, then casts it into the air, taking note of wind direction and nodding to himself as though he just solved a profound mystery.
"Time is of the essence. First, we find this M-Mallard guy to the east at the lumber camp. I know where to go. Reinar, I want your b-big arse up front with me in case we get any surprises. The rest of you, hang back, but follow close enough to let loose with any ranged weapons you got."
Bulgard isn't much of a people person, to say the least. He isn't sure the others will follow, but he doesn't much care if they do or not. He knows these woods like the back of his hands. No more folks will die of this cursed taint, not if he can help it. He is all too familiar with losing family to disease, knows the pain and anguish of being left to survive alone. He draws his bow, knocks an arrow, and beckons the rest of the group to likewise arm themselves, then sets off to the east at a steady jog, his bow and arrow held low and taut.
Bulgard looks to find the best path to get them to their destination, examining this path for any foot prints or other signs of danger.
[/div
Rhen will look up at the Pony in all the glory of the pink, then at the Sheriff. Death in his eyes.
"I may not be as fast as the others but I can go all day long when theys needin' to be resting."
Rhen takes the reins to the pony and follows after Bulgard.
Bulgard, there is one road headed out of town to the east. It is the road you are on now. DC 10 Knowledge Nature to find out if there is a short cut.
Bulgard continues jogging toward the lumber encampment, confident he can reach it by nightfall and shelter there with Milon for the night.
Day 1, 07:00 You head northeast on the road to the camp without incident.
Day 1, 11:00 (4/8 hrs traveled) You arrive at the consortium.
The Lumber Consortium Camp cuts an ugly scar of stumps into a dense stand of proud darkwood trees. Five sturdy-looking log buildings seemingly a bunkhouse, meal hall, office, barn, and smithy—stand with numerous wide carts and sleds amid the sawdust-covered clearing. Loggers are moving all about the camp either headed to their next location or huddled in groups discussing matters. They are in various groups ranging from two to a dozen or more.
Rhen will keep up as best as he can with the group, he may not be as long legged but he is sturdy and relentless.
Rhen will let the bigger folk start the conversation, inspecting the Loggers axes to see if they are quality make.
Rhen does get the attention of a couple loggers as he approaches. They have never seen anything of the like. A serious looking dwarf dressed and armed for battle on a white pony with a rainbow of ribbons in her braided mane. As Rhen ties her to a hitching post the two approach, ready to taunt, but when they see the serious dwarven face and the hilt of his sword, they decide otherwise. They are immediately distracted as he inspects the workmanship of their axes, obviously knowing the trade.
Bulgard approaches the first worker he sees.
"You there! We need your assistance immediately. T-Take us to Milon. We need his guidance in l-l-l-locating some very specific items that will be used in a cure for the plague that haunts your people. If we do not make haste, m-many good people will die!"
"I know Milon, but ain't got no idea where he be. I don't know you. Camp don't allow no visitors. Reckon you're about to be run off soon enough like all them others. I got work to do."
"Sir, it a-appears you have mistaken my intentions. You see, the plague is spreading. I ain't just here to find the cure- I'm here to warn you of impending doom if I do not find Mulan. If I can find him soon, and get that cure made quick, you and yours will likely die of d-d-dysentery"
"You are lying! Get away from me!."
Reinar steps back and glances at Zevon.
"I'll wait for you to try your silver tongue before i start breaking his bones."
"enjoy wasting away with diarrhea and putrous v-v-vomit."
Bulgard steps back and rests on a log while he waits for zevon to try again with another moron in the crowd.
"Gods these humans are thick head, we are sent by the sheriff and the alchemist to gather some herb ta save yer kin and ye treat us like this."
Rhen will move about the edge of the encampment.
Bulgard moves to the edge of the camp and uses his stealth to hide, then draws his bow and knocks an arrow, just in case.
The logger looks back at you with apparent anger and then walks over to a group of men. He points at you and then goes to waving his arms about and making all sorts of odd gestures. He points to you again. Seems he may be adding a bit to the story.
Rhen will wait in the open for the men to came back over, waving his hand in the air to hurry them up.
"We needin to be talkin more, where be yer boss so we can just be goin' ta look for im'"
"Boss be in the office o're there."
"Can I be traveling there or will ye be stopping me?"
Understandable question based on the way the folks have acted to you so far. They are not going to help strangers find Milon and visitors are not welcome. That being said, they will not stop you from going to the office.
Zevon is visibly taken aback by the hostile reception. He hums quietly to himself, watching the scene unfold. Reinar's comment shakes him from his contemplation. He addresses the laborer.
"Thank you for the direction, good sir. I understand that my companion may be a bit excitable, but our intentions are just. We are truly here in search of remedies for a malady currently spreading among the good people of Falcon's Hollow, and his considerable knowledge would be a welcome boon where we have had few. I wonder if you would extend me the kindness of making introduction, or at the very least, not pose impediment on this most urgent of tasks."
He turns to the visible members of his party, "Shall we?". He gestures towards the office and begins making his way in that direction.
"I ain't gonna be the one to introduce strangers to Mr. Trookshavits. No, no, not me. But yous welcome to carry yerselves over thar."
"I understand. I wonder, though, if you are certain you do not know where Mr. Milon is? Just that one bit of information would save us considerable time, and avoid any unnecessary intrusion into Mr., um, Trookshavits was it? Mr. Trookshavits's time.
Barring any additional information on Milon, Zevon walks confidently towards the main office. Keeping a wary eye out for anyone that might be less than... welcoming to their arrival.
"I saw Milon in the barn a few minutes ago."
Zevon grins and lets out a bit of a whistle.
You may have saved lives today, sir.
He turns on his heel and motions for his companions to follow him to the barn.
Bulgard eases his grip on the bow string and sets his arrow back in the quiver. He breaks his cover and jogs over to join the crew, opens his mouth, tweeks and stammers a while before spitting the words out,
"Looks like you guys know where you're g-g-going. They wouldn't t-talk to m-m-me. I'll follow you to Mr Tookashits"
Zevon's grin widens, but he doesn't bother to correct the pronunciation.
No, I believe we will be better off avoiding the boss here. Milon was last seen at the barn. Let us begin there. I do not like the hostile vibrations of this place, and the sooner we are done with it the better.
As you enter the barn you see a large burly man tending to a bulky work horse.
Zevon raps lightly on the barn door frame and steps inside.
"Excuse me, would you be Milon? My name is Zevon Vierding. My companions and I are in search of a few specific reagents in order to cure a deadly plague in Falcon's Hollow. The herbalist Laurel, said that no one knows the woods better than you. Any assistance you could offer as to their location would not only be extremely helpful, but would surely save countless lives.
Zevon goes on to relate the information Laurel gave them about the required ingredients.
"Oh, thank the gods there is a cure! My nephew has taken ill with blackscour taint. What is it you need to find?"
"I am sorry to heard that. I assure you that with your aid, we can deliver these ingredients and get the cure to the people. First, elderwood mold is said to grow on the oldest tree in the vale. Ironbloom near old dwarven forges. Finally, rat’s tail and Ulizmila, the witch is our best bet to find that one. Our knowledge of the vale is limited, and while we know what we are looking for, we not not where.
Milon takes up a map with an X representing the camp's location. With large clumsy fingers he marks the map. "The E is the elder tree. W is the witch's hut and M is where the monastery is. Here ya go. Now I do promise to hold you accountable if you do not find these ingredients in time to cure my nephew. Hurry now! Find these things and get them to Laurel."
If you have no further questions of Milon...
Day 1 11:30 Leave consortium. One group of about six loggers notices Rhen as he mounts and exits on Anastasia. The rough burly men break out in uncontrollable and boisterous laughter. I will assume the same marching order until I hear otherwise. As I understand it now the marching order is Reinar, Bulgard, Zevon, Rhen. (last two are my assumptions).
"That was some impressive skill with words. Where i come from, all they listen to is strength, maybe i should learn the way you outsiders can convince people.", he says, during the travel. "I believe we haven't introduced ourselves yet, i am Reinar Rolstad, future Linnorm King."
"Takes a real dwarf to ride this pony, when we get back I will show em' not to mess with me."
Rhen keeps his head held high and follows after the group.
Day 1, 13:30 (6/8 hrs traveled) You estimate you are now about 2 hours away from the Elder Tree.
You hear an animal’s whimpering a short distance away. It sounds small and injured. As you approach, you see not far from the edge of the forest's shrouded lake, a fox with large ears and bright orange fur lies bleeding, its hindquarters caught fully in the jaws of a crude iron trap. The fox is a Darkmoon firefoot, a species of fennec unique to this region. The firefoot is badly injured, its hindquarters slashed by the trap.
PCs who attempt to remove the fox from the trap can do so by succeeding at a DC 14 Strength check. The pitiful animal puts up no resistance.
Rhen did you dismount? Do you want me to assume mounts/dismounts for you when you stop or go? Or, do you prefer to make that decision based on the situation? You do remain responsible for her safety. She will go home if left alone unhitched for an extended amount of time or overnight.
"Much appreciated. Words, like sound, resonate with beings if used correctly. Sound in its purest form is the most powerful in my opinion. With it I can mend wounds or shatter bones... all by manipulating the vibration of the universe. Yes, words are just one aspect of true sound."
Bulgard doesn't like what he sees. This feels like a trap. He climbs a tree to get a better look, trying to identify any tracks leading to or from the fox.
He feels for the fox, wonders if it has a good chance to survive this wound or not? He draws his bow, knocks an arrow and levels it at the wounded creature.