Merrick's ears perk up as Laurel begins listing the ingredients. He begins rummaging through his memories for any recollection of ancient trees or a root known as rat's tail. Although he tends to favor the more widely accepted herbal remedies, there's a chance he is always on the look out for something new and potentially life saving.
Upon hearing mention of witchcraft and ancient remedies, a look of grave concern comes over Abelard. She seems well-meaning enough, but I wonder if she is delving too deep into things that should not be uncovered. I hope for the sake of this town that there are no serious side effects associated with this remedy. However, Cirthana did say that Laurel had the cure, so I might as well go along with this plan for now.
Abelard thinks for a few moments, trying to determine where each of these herbs and landmarks might be located in more practical terms.
Boruk tries to remember if he came across any plants that match the descriptions given when on his search in the wilds surrounding Falcon's Hollow.
Hmmm...I'd nearly swear on my forge that I heard some of the locals mention one of those plants in the tavern last week.
Ironbloom mushrooms, Ironbloom mushrooms..... somethings tingling at the back of me mind. They've some connection with Jernashall, I'm sure of it!
Abelard is - somehow - able to recall some conversation he had lately about the so-called "Eldest tree in the vale." It is said to lie on the other side of the lake that cuts the forest in two.
Boruk knows that 'ironbloom mushrooms' are small toadstools and are a particular dwarven delicacy. He also remembers the old stories of a crumbling dwarven monastery which (rumor has it) sits at the foot of Droskar’s Crag, on the other side of the forest.
Nobody recalls anything about rat's tail, or Ulizmila, the so-called witch of the woods.
Lauren is slightly suprised to see that you are even discussing this - she'd expected you to mumble excuses and leave. She gives a slightly flustered cough. "Right. Well. Actually. Ulizmila, the witch that lives deep in the woods might know where the rat's tail can be found. She’s a crafty, mean thing that knows all sorts of strangeness. She might even have one. I don’t know what she might want for it, but I doubt it’d come cheap. My grandmother traded her sight to the old crone for a few pages of what she knew, and that was years and years back, and I don’t know a soul who got any nicer as they got older."
"No idea where she lives though. Your best bet would be to head to the Consortium Lumber Camp to the east and look for Milon Rhoddam — the most experienced woodsman in the Lumber Consortium. If anyone knows her whereabouts, it will be him."
"Best to sharpen one's axe before starting a day's working of cutting," Ethan says to no one in particular. "If we can get directions to Ulzmilla, even if they only describe a general area of the woods, it will save us time we would otherwise spend wandering every which way searching for her."
Turning toward Ethan, Abelard says,"Wise words indeed, my friend. We can spend a very small amount of time to gather information now in order to spare us a long and dangerous search later on. I think speaking with this woodsman could prove beneficial."
Now turning towards Laurel, Abelard says, "Thank you, my lady, for the information you have given us and also for the aid you have provided to those who are sick. We shall do our best to return with these components as quickly as possible."
Boruk nods at what the two men are saying. Aye, we should talk to this woodsman and find out if he knows where that witch lives. He might have a better idea where we can find that old monastery I mentioned as well. There's a good chance we could find some Ironbloom mushrooms there.
Boruk smacks his lips, They're great in a nice bowl of stew or porridge and ye can even grind 'em down and made a lovely loaf of mushroom bread from them. I might get some extra so I can make some proper dwarven food later.
Taking your leave of Laurel, and the town, you walk out on the northern road, which follows the line of the forest fairly closely. It's not much of a road - barely more than a track, pitted with ruts from wagon-wheels - but it allows you to make reasonable progress. Still, it's long after lunch by the time you arrive.
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.
The place is abuzz with activity and shouts, and it takes a while bfore someone notices you. Eventually, the foreman Jarlben Trookshavits (a particularly thuggish-looking man with a scar down his right cheek) bustles up. "You don't look like workers, so what the **** you want?! We're busy."
Boruk looks with interest at the smithy and is in the process of going over for a look when the foreman bustles up.
Boruk looks the man up and down, Aye, we're not workers. We're from Falcon's Hollow. Have ye heard of the illness there yet? We've to gather some herbs for the herbalist for a cure. We were told a man here, by the name of Milon Rhoddam, could help direct us to the areas we believe the herbs to be. Do ye know if he's about?
Abelard notices the demeanor of the foreman and decides that it would be best to let someone who has more experience with the consortium take the lead in this conversation. Instead, Abelard retrieves the lunch he prepared earlier; a half loaf of bread, some slightly aged cheese, and a bit of dried fruit. As he eats, Abelard listens to the conversation at hand and tries to absorb as much as possible from it.
"Please excuse our unannounced arrival," Ethan says politely. "As my friend stated, we are only here to make a few inquiries that would help us find the ingredients to a remedy for a the Blackscour that currently plagues Falcon's Hollow. Surely, healthy loggers work harder than sick, and a man who's no longer concerned that his child might die any day will show greater enthusiasm for his trade, as well. We will not interfere with your operations, only ask a few questions and be on our way."
Merrick scans the clearing with curious eyes. At one point, these had been lush woods that he had used as his first scouting grounds with the consortium. He had never thought to return before. His excitement is cut short with the brisk arrival of the foreman. Merrick continues to stand to the side, letting one of the others take the brunt of his poor disposition. Merrick's hopes for an easy meeting quickly sour when the foreman speaks. Hoping Boruk or Ethan can assuage the intimidating man, he begins to prepare for any resistance and counting the coins he thinks it would take to bribe him.
|
Parundar is surprised by the foreman's volume and attitude. Normally I'd have to have cheated a man out of some coin before he'd talk to me like that... Parundar stands next to Boruk, keeping his eyes on the foreman, just in case.
Hearing Ethan's diplomatic speech eases Parundar's heart. So this is what it's like when a charismatic ally is focused on diplomacy instead of making fun of an enemy...
The foreman glares suspiciously at you, before apparently deciding that this isn't a trick. "Milon!" he bawls out across the yard. "Five minutes," he warns, and stumps off back to work.
At his call, a tall weathered man in his early forties approaches you doubtfully. His keen eyes look over each of you. "I'm Milon Rhoddam. How can I help?" He doesn't sound very keen.
"Thank you for speaking with us, Master Rhoddam. We have just come from Falcon's Hollow, and are looking for ingredients that could be used to brew a cure for the Blackscour currently plaguing the town. We were told Ulizmilla may be able to help us find some of those ingredients, and we were also told that you know in which part of the wood she lives. Could you please provide us with directions to her?"
Aye. Boruk nods along at what Ethan is saying.
We've also an idea of where two of the ingredients can be found. Any advice or directions you could give us to ease our search would be appreciated. One location we're looking to find is the eldest tree in the vale, on the far side of the lake. The other is an old dwarven monastery that lies at the foot of Droskar's Crag, on the far side of the forest.
|
|
Parundar feels more at ease without the angry foreman around. He looks to Milon, the skeptic, and then back to Ethan and Boruk, eager to learn the ways of persuasion when trickery is not involved.
He closes his eyes to focus in on the words, to better commit any directions or descriptions to memory.
The canny tracker's lined, weathered face noticeably softens as you explain your mission. "Ah. My nephew's taken sick - two years old, poor lad. I'll gladly help you. Here." He sketches out a crude map of the forest. "The eldest tree is nearest - it lies almost due North of here. The witch's hut is West of there, and the monastery is beyond, almost in the foothills of the Crag."
He gives you a nod. "Godspeed."
Hearing this information, Abelard finishes his lunch and nods in thanks to Milon. Then, after thinking for a moment on the time required to travel to even the nearest location, he suggests to the group "We should wait until morning and start tomorrow as early as possible. It doesn't seem that we gain anything by spending the night in the woods and who knows what manner of creatures lurk about in the dark. This journey will be difficult enough on its own and getting a good night's rest will be important for all of us in the days to come."
"Leaving from Falcon's Hollow at dawn sounds most advisable," Ethan says, nodding in agreement. "The more time we can spend in unfamiliar forest during daylight hours, the safer we'll likely be. As it is, there will doubtless be an evening or two at least where will be camping. Best to get a fresh start at the beginning of our journey."
"Anger is often the mask of fear," Ethan replies, recalling something Old Delbyr often said. "People are afraid to lose their loved ones, especially if that means they will be destitute, or gods forbid, have to bury their own child. Seeing the desperation behind the anger is what makes it easier to bear the brunt of their harsh words. Most of them would not say such things under normal circumstances. As those that would - well, it's in their nature - and nothing I say would change that, anyway, so there is no point in being upset by them either."
Aye, I agree, Boruk says, nodding at Ethan and Abelard. It's better to wet our beards with a few ales tonight and set out early in the mornin'. No tellin' what manner of beastie is hiding in those woods at night.
|
|
Had Parundar been here alone, he might've wandered off into the forest and been slain by whatever monstrocities he found there. Thank the gods, I've wise men to follow.
As you return to town, buoyed by the information you have received, your arrival coincides with the funeral of another of the townspeople. A sombre procession dressed in their finery, with matching black armbands, walks slowly behind a tiny coffin.
Nobody will make eye contact with you as they pass by.
Sleep is not as easy to come by that night as you might have hoped.
DAY TWO
The next day dawns dark, overcast. The rumble of thunder in the distance, together with the direction of the wind suggests a storm is coming. Northward, the peak of Droskar's Crag is shrouded in grey, threatening clouds.
The direct route into the forest is quicker than your journey to the lumber camp yesterday, so it is perhaps just before noon when you reach the tree line. Darkwood trees, their deep green canopy and spreading limbs, ensure that the forest is in perpetual gloom. There is little in the way of a trail, but the forest floor is largely free of undergrowth. The densely packed tree trunks keep visibility to a minimum, and make it difficult to keep your bearings.
At some point after lunch, you hear them before you see them: a trio of obviously drunk men, singing some sort of tune that they seem to know only half the words to. The shortbows they carry - and the rabbits slung over their shoulders - suggest that they are hunters.
They eventually catch sight of you and come to a sudden, lurching halt, around ten yards away from you.
Their leader, a balding man missing one ear, as well as several of his front teeth, blinks at you in surprise. "Oh, 'ello. You out 'untin' too? Cos thish bitta the woodsh ish, ish... wassa word... our bit. Sho don't get any, any, funny ideash."
He wags his finger at you, drunkenly.
"Dead-Eye guide this child's soul to the Spire, and may The Gray Lady judge this innocent with mercy," Ethan says softly, unable to stop tears from welling in his eyes.
Ethan rises with the first light of dawn, and wastes no time dressing and preparing for the journey into the woods. He pauses only long enough to say his morning prayers, then shoulders his pack and moves purposefully on when the rest of the group is ready to leave.
"Greetings friends," Ethan says to the men. "We are not hunting for game, but for herbs and remedies. We do not mean to interfere with your work. Let us part ways in peace. Erastil's favor upon your hunt this day."
The sight of the funeral procession and the tiny coffin brings back to Boruk's mind the death of his parents and the pain that accompanied it. Anger tightens his features at the unfair nature of what has happened here. It's always the innocent and weak that suffer the most, he thinks morbidly to himself. He heads to the bar to try to drown out some of the bad memories stirred up by the funeral before going to bed.
Boruk stands back and allows Ethan to do his "sweet-talkin'", having seen how effective he has been previously. However, he is ready to step in and do his brand of persuadin' should the men not be reasonable
|
|
Parundar is about to cry when he notices Anela, his rabbit, poke her head out of his back. In an attempt to be stronger than he has in the past, he covers her eyes with his hand. Normally, Parundar is the one with the downcast eyes, but seeing the townsfolk avoiding eye contact hurts his heart. Do they blame me?...
Parundar fails to sleep. Not one to toss and turn, he lays with his eyes closed and pores over every moment, every face he saw, and blames himself for the deaths.
Parundar yawns as the drunks approach the group. He has to focus to attempt to ascertain their intent in addressing the party.
- 1 (fatigued) = 12
Upon seeing the men and hearing Ethan address them, Abelard grabs Ethan's shoulder lightly and leans forward to whisper, "These men are deep in their cups and are not likely to fully comprehend anything you have just said. They may be looking to pick a fight with just about anyone who crosses their path. If we want to avoid confrontation, we should comply with their demands and alter course briefly until they have moved on."
I have seen this too many times before and I hope this doesn't go the way it normally does.
Abelard prepares himself for a fight, praying it does not occur.
Upon seeing the funeral procession, Merrick can't help but to think the worse, that his mother has fallen ill. He sprints home to check on the welfare of his mother, all too relieved to find her still breathing in bed. He shares the details of his mission with his mother and father and finds himself bolstered to find the cure. That night he can hardly sleep. His thoughts are focused on the trip ahead and how best to gather what they need as quickly as possible. He was up and ready for the mission well before dawn.
As everyone gathers together before setting out, Merrick shares with the group, "Last night was a sobering reminder of why we're doing what we're doing. Let's make sure to stay focused on the task at hand and bring a cure back to this town."
Coming across the hunters, Merrick finds himself looking to Ethan to steer the group clear of conflict. Afterall, there's no reason for hunters to be threatened by a few amateur herbalists.
Maybe it's something in Ethan's tone, maybe what he said was just misunderstood - whatever the reason, the leader scowls blackly in reply. "Huh. Buncha amachoor wanderers. Well, keep the noise down, whydoncha? You'll scare the game away."
He and his group aggressively push past you, and are on their way and out of sight in a few moments.
That encounter over, most of the rest of the day passes without incident, and with Ethan leading (with occasional assistance from Boruk and Merrick), you avoid getting lost.
Dusk is approaching by the time you reach the waterside of the great river that partially bisects the forest. The red of the setting sun glitters on the fast-flowing waters, and you hear the croaking of frogs and see the glistening wings of dragonflies.
Ethan puts a cautioning hand. ”Do you hear that?” he asks. ”It sounds like a wounded animal nearby.”
Abelard stops to listen carefully and turns to Ethan. "I'm afraid my hearing isn't what it used to be. I don't hear anything beyond the normal sounds of the forest, but I trust the senses of a young man above my own. Perhaps those hunters injured something and were too intoxicated to find and collect it."
Of course it could also be some sort of mischevieous fey playing a prank. I'll keep an eye out, but it's probably best not to worry the others with unlikely possibilities.
Boruk rises from checking the vegetation in an area from which a particularly loud frog is croaking. What? All I can hear are the damn frogs squawkin'...What direction is it coming from?
The worry fades from Merrick's thoughts once the hunters are well behind them. He works with Ethan and Boruk to navigate the woods, keeping an ear out for further signs of trouble or threats. When Ethan stops and alerts the groups, he focuses for the sounds of an injured animal.
"I hear it as well. I think we should tread carefully, if it wasn't that hunters that injured it, whatever did could still be around."
|
|
"I wouldn't doubt that it's something that was wounded by the hunters from before."
Parundar focuses his ears to help Merrick figure out what sort of animal it is.
Perhaps it was the fatigue or perhaps it's the croaking of the frog that Boruk mentioned, but Parundar's ears seem a little off their game in this wilderness.
Merrick recognises - among the generalised whine of distress - a series of yips and barks that suggest the animal is a canine of some sort: fox, dog, or wolf. To get more than that, you'd have to go and find it and take a look.
Abelard turns to the group and says, "I absolutely hate the idea of leaving an animal in pain. However, we must remember that time is ticking for the people of Falcon's Hollow as well. If we can quickly find and aid this creature, I think we should. If it requires significantly altering course from our present one, the decision becomes far more difficult."
Especially when it could all be an illusion or trap instead of a cry for help
Boruk grunts. I've no particularly strong feelin's either way. If the group wants to make a small detour to help the beastie, I'll tag along. If not, it's no skin off my back. He shrugs and looks to the others to see what they want to do.
”It doesn’t sound like it is far off,” Ethan replies. ”If its injuries are fatal, we can give it the mercy of a quick death. Dead-Eye knows there’s enough languishing suffering in these lands as it is.”
Ethan unslings his longbow, nocks an arrow, then moved cautiously towards the sound.
The sounds are coming some 30 yards from your position, not far from the edge of the forest-shrouded lake. As you move forward, you see a fox with large ears and bright orange fur lying bleeding, its hindquarters caught fully in the jaws of a crude iron trap.
Abelard stops just short of the edge of the clearing and a look of sadness sweeps across his face immediately when he sees the fox in such torment. Though his first instinct is to aid the creature, he slowly and methodically scans the treeline, looking for some larger animal or other predator that might be moving in.
Recognizing the animal shortly after seeing it, Abelard forgets for a moment what he's doing and turns to the nearest party member excitedly explaining, "This is actually a firefoot fennec! I've never seen one in person because they're unique to the area, but I've read about them in my primer on the vale. Did you know that foxes are actually..."
From the looks on everyone's faces, Abelard quickly realizes that this is not at all the time for a lecture on foxes. Abelard recomposes himself, saying "Pardon me, I got a bit carried away. Do you see anything in the treeline?"
Boruk nods at Abelard. Aye, I've seen a few when exploring the area. They're usually fairly harmless, although they can bite when they feel threatened.
Boruk has a quick glance around to see if he can spot anything.
Merrick, yer usually good with animals, see if ye can calm it down while I open the trap.
He approaches with Merrick, making soothing noises to help calm the beast.
A pang of sorrow shoots through Merrick when they see the fox. He'd seen plenty of them in the woods, but never quite took the time to learn more about them. Abelards immediate recognition of the breed is impressive. "I spend a lot of time in these woods and never knew they had a name. I think I could learn a lot from you."
Trapping always felt like the lazy coward's method of hunting to Merrick. "I don't understand why people can't stick around for the kill instead of letting the poor creatures suffer like this." He nods at Boruk's suggestion and approaches the fox with a soothing voice and slow, steady walk. He turns to the rest of the group, "Might be best to keep an eye out of for whoever set this to return."
Boruk's words immediately have a soothing action on the fennec, but the trap is rusty and it will be difficult to get the animal out of there.
Just as Parundar is tending the wound, Boruk hears a buzzing sound and ducks just in time to avoid an arrow that was aimed at him! The feathers were poorly attached to the shaft, so that the arrow was noisy enough for him to notice.
You hear a shout of frustration as a bandy-legged humanoid figure reveals themselves from where they were hiding behind a cunningly-made screen. The grey-skinned figure bares its fangs. "Stunty-kin, die!"
Before the group can react to this sudden ambush, the figure draws its bow again, aiming at Boruk once more.
Caught flat-footed, the dwarf can only watch as the arrow punches through his armour.