"They're a rough sort of bunch, but they keep the roads open, and the local population of giants in check. Collect taxes too, and such. They're the local representatives of Magnimar, can't have them dropping the ball all of a sudden.
"Which is where you lot come in. I'm minded to pay you a full two thousand gold crowns to go out to their stronghold, Fort Rannick, and find out if they're still there. I'd send the city guard, but a squad of those lads are like as not to get killed on the road.
"Your first stop on the way would be the township of Turtleback Ferry. It's the largest town in the region, half a day's ride south of the Fort.
We have ourselves a deal?"
And that's how you found yourself headed out to Turtleback Ferry. It's a weeklong ride on a river barge, made anything but comfortable by the torrentous autumn rains.
Seven days from the outset, your arrive at your destination. It's a quaint little town, perched on the northern end of a large lake.
With the slanted roofs sagging under the rainfall, the towns main characteristic seems to be wet. The townsfolk aren't the sorts to go in for paved streets, so there's lots of mud to go round. To the distant north, you can just about spot the tops of the looming mountains.
The head bargeman is eager to be rid of you, letting you disembark before setting about unloading his cargo.
"Here we are, Turtleback Ferry, welcome and such, off you go."
Ruperta thank the ferryman, and gives him a Varisian blessing.
"Might the night butterfly accompanies you wherever you go and lead you back to your family and home."
Even with the rains and difficulties of travel, she seems happy. Ruperta tells you that she spent a long time at Korvosa, and she is happy to be "in the great outdoors".
"Our life is a travel. A travel of discovery. To stay in just one place is to die a long dead. I am glad I am on the move again."
Darmok drags himself, his axe, and a bag of assorted items with him off the boat. "Makes me miss home. Seems about as hospitable." He spits, not bothering to make sure it lands anywhere aside from ensuring it strikes nothing humanoid. "I don't remember being told where to go. Tavern? Inn? Is there a mayor for this heap?"
Ruperta, while reading her wagon, invites you all to put your stuff inside, safe from the rain.
"We need to reach Fort Rannick, the base of the Order of the Black Arrow, and see what has happened to them. Our travels have not finished, Desna is still with us."
Sephne stepped off the ferry with a polite smile and a cheery wave to the bargeman. She had rather enjoyed the week-long trip, having no complaints about the rain at all, but had a sneaking suspicion the bargeman wasn't so enthused about it. Or perhaps he was just dour for some other reason...
"I like this place," she said, looking around the sodden town, while her companions gathered themselves and their things. "Fort Rannick was only supposed to be half a day's ride from here. I'm sure we have some time to visit the tavern, Darmok." Although Sephne never seemed to eat, she enjoyed the company in nearly any locale.
Before they left the docks, she paused a moment to slip her boots off...to feel the pleasant squish of mud between her toes as they walked.
The bargeman mellows somewhat at Ruperta's blessing. "And the roads treat you well. You'll find an inn up at the town square thattaway, if you like."
The streets are largely empty, with townsfolk trying to stay out of the rain. What people are out and about are quick about their business, and covered up in layers, hoods and hats to keep the water out.
Ruperta looks at Sephne taking her boots off, and smiles to her.
"I like your spirit."
She takes her own boots off, and puts them in the wagon, trying to avoid filling it with mud. She asks for Sephne's boots too, to put them next to hers.
She feels the mud in her toes and shivers a little.
"When you travel in dwarven lands let your beard grow." - She recites a popular Varisian saying.
She takes Sephne's arm and walks with her, leading his horse and cart, towards the inn.
Dwarves were not meant to be wet.
It was this truism that Felthin thought to himself a lot over the trip to the ferry, and it would likely continue to be his polar star.
Felthin was everything you'd expect a Dwarf to be, should you really think about it. Short? Check. Muscular? Check. Beard? Yes, indeed. The necklace of preserved ears he wore on his belt was a bit different, but still within the realm of reasonably expect a Dwarf to do.
Felthin spared a glance to his companions: A pair of Humans and a Half-Orc. At least the Half-man seemed to know how to wield a weapon. The Humans didn't even seem to know what armor was for! This will be an interesting outing indeed.
You head north a bit, and soon find the inn in sight. It's a fairly fine establishment, with a sign above the door declaring it the 'Bottom´s Up'.
As you head inside, you're quickly greeted by the halfling proprietor.
"Welcome, travelers! Are you seeking rooms out of the rains? A seat by the fire to dry, perhaps? We're serving lunch in an hour or so."
Behind him, you can see that the inn is more than half empty. Still, there's a few locals sitting around, even at this time of day.
Ruperta looks at her dirty feet.
"No home is as warm as a good inn after a long journey." - she greets him in a traditional Varisian fashion.
"I hope you don't mind us getting your place a little dirty. We thank you for your hospitality, and a seat by the fire, something to drink and news to hear would be great if you can accommodate us. I would also need accommodations for my wagon and horse if you don't mind."
In time she will try to gather information about the place, and about the missing Order of the Black Arrow.
"I've no need for either, though I'll need to rest before we trek out to the fort. We should probably find horses as well, I'm not of a mind to take two days when half one will do." Once inside and out of the rain, he will begin cleaning his blade. Wouldn't do to let it rust. A warrior always cleans his tools. "Name and location of a livery stable as well, if you have such an establishment."
"Rooms are a gold piece a head a night, two gets you three meals a day as well and your first pint. We can stable your horse and wagon for half a piece, if you like. As for livery stables, we ain't got no such thing, but old man Horst breeds horses for sale - he might be willing to part with one or two at this time o' year. His holding is the last house on the north road."
Ruperta spends a few hours talking to the locals and the proprietor of the inn. She picks up a bunch of stories and rumors - there's surprisingly little known about the Black Arrows, but there's plenty of other stuff to worry about. One young man tells her how the Arrows usually send people to town for supplies once a week, but they haven't been here for three weeks running. Aside from that, the biggest events seem to be the winter rains coming early this year, and the fact that a local establishment, the gambling hall, tavern and all-round pleasure barge, the Paradise, has recently sunk to the bottom of Claybottom Lake. The proprietor intimates that the lack of competition has been good for his establishment, but he doesn't want to say it too loudly.
The only other Black Arrows related news is that one fisherman swears that their Commander used to take moonlit walks in the swamp across the lake. The so-called 'Shimmerglens' aren't the sort of place one would usually frequent at night, but it didn't seem to bother him. The fisherman used to take him across the lake every now and then, but he obviously hasn't these last few weeks, what with the Black Arrows being incommunicado.
2) Black Magga, the monster of the Storval Deep, doesn't stay in that lake. Underwater tunnels connect it to Claybottom Lake, and she comes down here to eat fishermen now and then! I 'm sure that's what happened to the Paradise- Black Magga came down and gobbled up all those filthy sinners!
3) People been disappearin' lately. And not just them who's been going into the deep woods. I 'm talkin' fishermen, travelers, people just out on the roads. My money's on them Grauls-that family's got ogre blood in them, and once you get ogre blood in you ... you just ain't right!
Ruperta winces a little at the high prices, but pays 8 1/2 gp for a night and some meals, as the storage for her wagon.
"Thank you, we will depart tomorrow early for the Fort. Please have my wagon and horse ready."
Ruperta tells the others what she found out.
"At least 3 weeks with no word of them. I fear that is not good, and we will walk into tragedy. When a flock of crows gathers the grandmothers prepare to weep." - She ends with another old varisian saying.
Finally, she checks no one is overhearing them, and finishes.
"Seems the lake has been the source of much rumors and strange happenings. I wouldn't be surprised something stirs under the waters."
Felthin hands the woman a handful of gold coins, including an extra for some more pints.
"So, there are Ogres round here?" Felthin perks up as he hears that rumor. "I'm betting they are responsible for the goings-on around here. Can someone give me a rough idea of where their camp is?"
Sephne thought a little about the news and rumors, and nodded her agreement to Ruperta's assessment. "Ogres with a dragon, and a lake monster... This little town has a lot of troubles. Do you really want to spend the night, or should we get going to fort Rannick today?"
"The ogres have had a clanhold up on the Hook since way back when. They used to have run of the county, back before the Black Arrows drove them out. Now they keep to the highlands, mostly."
"Excuse me, sir..." - Ruperta tells the innkeeper - "How far is Fort Rennick? Could we get there before dark?"
After hearing the answer, Ruperta answers Sephne.
"I wouldn't like to arrive at the Fort at night, tired, and discover it overrun by ogres or something. Is better to arrive at a good time."
"It'll take you some six hours or so, what with that wagon. Fast horse could do it in four."
"Not making any sense to go in this weather, better to get a fresh start tomorrow." Of course Darmok realizes that this weather isn't likely to abate at any near point, but he always has high hopes.
The following morning, the party sets out for Fort Rannick. The rains have kept up throughout the night, and there's no sign of them abating anytime soon. You follow the muddy road north out of town, and it's scarcely an hour before you find the bridge across the river.
Just as you're in the process of crossing - the wood is slick with rain, and while the bridge isn't extremely steep, having a horse pull a wagon up it without some sort of incident is tricky, careful business - you hear a loud yowl from beyond the treeline on the other side.
It sounds like some sort of feline, clearly in pain.
What do? Investigate or continue to Fort Rannick?
Ruperta, taking care of her wagon looks at the others.
"Can you check what is that? If there is an aminal in distress, maybe we can help it. If a trap, we can prevent others from falling into it. I'll go as soon as I have the wagon safely on the other side."
Darmok removes himself from the wagon, and keeps his weapon strapped to his back, though that doesn't remotely hide the fact that he has it as it's nearly as large as he is. He doesn't want to threaten the animal, but he can't hide it or be without it. He walks up in as unthreatening a manner as possible. He grumbles somewhat about being rainlogged and that he'll have to be damp in the wagon when this is complete. He much prefers not being drenched.
Darmok, make their way across the bridge and into the trees. 20ft. from the road, there's a clearing, and in this clearing there's a firepelt, a seven-foot long big cat, with one forepaw stuck in a beartrap. It's pulling at it, desperately trying to get free, but with little success.
The animal looks quite beleaguered, the rain having stuck its otherwise voluminous orange-red fur to its body.
Darmok tries to console the creature, soothing it, but he is not particularly good at it.
Perhaps because he feels the creature's pain, he is as soothing as he could possibly be. "Good... creature. Be calm. Not going to hurt you." He sets his axe down, in the mud, far away, and moves to approach cautiously. He's ready to dodge should he need to, in the event the creature mistakes his intentions.
The firepelt makes a pitiful noise as Darmok closes in, but doesn't seem like it's about to attack him. He can tell that it's probably used to being around humanoids.
Sephne's heart sank when she heard the feline's pained cry. She pondered a moment whether it would be better to go help, or stay with the cart through the bridge crossing. She bit her lip for a moment, then turned to Ruperta. "I'll be back, yell if you need us!" She said, then ran off after Darmok.
When she arrived to see the wounded animal, but it looked like Darmok had already earned its trust. She stayed back, so as not to upset the feline, but cooed softly and changed her posture to attempt to earn its trust as well.
Darmok, in his strength, tries to open the trap for the creature.
The cat calms down completely, settling awkwardly on its haunches with its right front leg still caught in the trap. From its behavior, Sephne is pretty sure that the feline has been trained at some point.
It makes a low noise as Darmok tries to wrentch apart the jaws of the trap. The metal doesn't budge one tiny bit. He can tell that there's a mechanism in there that requires some sort of crank or key to slot in and operate it easier, but it's almost undoable by brute strength. Darmok doesn't think he's strong enough, frankly.
In the distance, you hear hounds barking. They're closing in, fast enough that they'll be here in thirty seconds or so.
The firepelt whirls its head around at the noise, and lets out a hiss.
Darmok tries to see what's securing the trap, so that perhaps he can unfasten that, and carry the creature elsewhere. He looks over at Sephne. "Can you help me?" He thinks perhaps he could get it open if he became infuriated, or maybe even could sunder the object, but is fairly certain that these options might harm the creature or cause it to become less calm. He's fairly certain that whatever is coming toward them either isn't friendly, or at the very least has a right to be hunting here despite the poor innocent creature.
As soon as she is able, Ruperta will go for the Firepelt, and kneel next to it.
"It is sad to see such a creature prisoner. Desna, please help it get free of its bondage! Let it be free!"
She casts Liberating Command on the Firepelt, hoping to free it.
Ruperta's magic has the trap loosen slightly for an instant, long enough for the firepelt to shimmer out of the trap. Freed, it limps over to Sephne, alternately looking at her and paying attention to the sound of dogs baying in the distance. They're clearly getting closer.
The cat is free, but the leg that got stuck is still badly mangled, and clearly broken.
Ruperta slowly closes to the Firepelt again and sees if a healing spell, or only natural healing, will fix the creature leg.
If a healing spell helps, she will cast it.
Finally, she will try and move the wagon between the sound of the dogs and the firepelt, having the care of not spooking the horse with the firepelt.
In Ruperta's estimation, either a spell or natural healing could do the trick. Either way, the bone would need to be set beforehand. Luckily she has the necessary tools on hand to do it easily enough.
Meanwhile, the hounds come barreling into the clearing, the five of them fanning out around you as they bark and growl madly. Lumbering behind them comes an almost impossibly large man dressed in rags, one of his hands deformed to a single giant finger, hefting a spear in the other.
"I is hunting kitty cat! No concern of you's unless you wanna be hunted too!"
Sephne rested a calm hand on the firepelt, trying to make it feel safe and protected even as the barking dogs encircled them. She looked up at the imposing man with the malformed arm and shook her head in an exaggerated 'no'.
"I kitty's friend, I concern," she said, feigning his speech pattern without intending to sound mocking. "Always good to have friend. You tell woofs 'heel', maybe I be you friend too."
The man sends Sephne and the group a suspicious glance, but he also yell a command at the dogs, who sit down and cease barking. They're still watching you closely, and he hasn't quite called them to heel.
"This be Graul famly's property." He pokes the butt of his spear hard into the ground. "That's Graul famly's trap." He points at the trap. "Cat in Graul trap, on Graul land, be Rukus' meat. You's be thievin' tresspassers, you's be?"
The firepelt clearly does not like him. She's growling, positioning herself squarely between Sephne and the newcomer, her fur standing up along her spine even despite the rain.
While you don't speak giant, you're still familiar enough with it to recognize that the order he gave the dogs was given in giant.
Felthin watches as the group rushes to save the Firepelt, and nods with a bit of respect. As the man-beast approached, Felthin would draw his axe and say "If you like living, you should flee."
Giving the hunter a stern look, Felthin's eyes would widen and then he would say "Where did you get that cloth from?"
Ruperta, back at her wagon, sees the others talking to the hunter while preparing to get her bow if needed.
She can hardly see what is happening.
"Won't flee. I'll have kitty!" The stranger does not react well to Felthin's threat at all. He whistles and bellows at the hounds, which throw themselves at the group.
Battlemap, you can edit this as you move around.
Sephne: 15
Felthin:
Darmok:
Ruperta:
Firepelt:
Half-ogre Hunter:
Hunting Dogs:
Darmok vs Dogs rolloff: vs
1:Ruperta
2:Firepelt
3:Sephne
4:½Ogre
5:Felthin
6:Dogs
7:Darmok.
Seeing the hunter attack Ruperta surges forward towards her companions, and prays for Desna's help in the fight ahead.
"Oh Dreamer, don't forsake us in our time of need."
The firepelt sticks close to Sephne, hackles raised and ready to attack anyone closing in.
Sephne had hoped the large man would be a little more amicable, but wasn't terribly surprised that their parlay fell apart. She lightly patted the terrified feline. "Stay," she said, hoping it had been trained to follow commands. The last thing she want was for the animal to get hurt any more than it already was.
She moved her hands and spoke a quick incantation, to create a burst of glittering dust to encompass the hunter and two of his hounds...
There's glitter in the eyes of your foes, as well as all over them in general. Its slight ridiculousness makes it no less potentially deadly.
Rukkus howls in pain and rage. "Gettem!" He roars in giant, ordering the dogs forward. Blinded, he nevertheless chucks his spear at where he last saw Sephne. He throws way further than needed though, and the spear burrows its head in the ground a good ten feet behind her.
Chuckling, Felthin says "Stupid Giantkin. You should know better than to try and mix it up with a Dwarf."
The dwarf's axe opens a bloody wound on one of the man's flailing arms. He howls incoherently in rage.
The dogs close in, going for whatever enemies they can get to. The blind ones navigate after the scent of wet dwarf.
,
,
The firepelt looks as if spoiling to fight the dogs, but Sephne's command stays it.
Darmok moves away from the current dog, provoking an attack, moves back to where he had dropped his weapon in the mud and picks it up. "You are going to regret this. I have slain bigger than you."