Creon fades into the background listening to all of the interactions between his allies and the newcomers. Ever suspicious he listens in as best he can until his vision and hearing fades into blackness and he is elsewhere...
These Masters forced him kind to do despicable things. Somehow, Creon remembered, he remembered it all. He was not supposed to but he did. Slowly, they were starting to understand that he knew. That's why he was different from the rest. The others so happy to mingle, to be noticed... to be accepted by these monsters!
Yes the Masters may have worn the faces of men but inside they were as black-hearted as the beings they summoned, on occasion, to do their dirty work. One day, one day one of the summons would rage out of control, and Creon knew that he and his would be called upon to handle what these Master could not...
Creon snaps out of his reverie when one of the travelers approaches him.
Raising his eyebrow at Oleg's offer to mount their kill, Kahurangi felt it necessary to comment. "It shows they can be defeated but lets people know they're here in the first place. You know your visitors better than I would though."
Not at all afraid of meeting new people, the young shaman mingled a bit while others haggled with value of that and their sundries; he was no merchant.
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Jon smiles at Kahu's remark "You ain't wrong, you ain't right. Mounting the head shows they are here, indeed, but it too hows that we had defeated it... that we have conquered it and they have nothing to fear. It gives them hope and a sense of security, that's good for the community."
The hunter orders an ale for himself before walking back to Oleg "My, I don't know how to ask this... It's been quite long since I sat in an inn with an ale, and I feel like I miss something... I miss the music." he says blushing as he shows his fiddle to Oleg "Would you mind if I play some notes, no charge or anything... I just enjoy playing."
Eagerly, Jon finishes his ale once and goes to sit by the fire. His backpack and bow left resting against the chair, the hunter takes his fiddle slowly, almost with religious reverence.
He caresses it, the instrument needed some paint and the wood started to bend around the bridge... it was an old fiddle.
It took him two long minutes to focus his mind, to gather the courage, but he finally started playing, forgetting about the world until he finished.
It was only him, his most beloved item and the mussic flowing around. Everything else was background noise.
Nodding along with Jonathan's words, "To true. Anything that will eliminate even the smallest bit of fear here is a good thing."
Looking about the pleasantly packed room. This is what a place like this is supposed to be like. This was why he left the safety of his home.
Eagerly, Jon finishes his ale once and goes to sit by the fire. His backpack and bow left resting against the chair, the hunter takes his fiddle slowly, almost with religious reverence.
He caresses it, the instrument needed some paint and the wood started to bend around the bridge... it was an old fiddle.
It took him two long minutes to focus his mind, to gather the courage, but he finally started playing, forgetting about the world until he finished.
It was only him, his most beloved item and the mussic flowing around. Everything else was background noise.
Jericho watches Jon with interest as he prepares to play. A fair hand with the violin, himself, and one to whom his violin is also his most prized possession, Jericho wholly approves of Jon's reverence when handling the instrument.
A part of Jericho aches the see the old violin repaired and restored to perfect condition, and though he had magic that could accomplish it, he would not make the offer until he knew Jon better and knew if such an offer would be insulting or no.
Finding himself caressing his own violin case as Jon plays, Jericho resolves to find time to join the older man a bit later.
Annika nods as she takes a seat near the young man. "Hopefully we can make things a little safer around here." His tale certainly doesn't sound particularly uncommon in the Green Belt. Just more proof that the Stag Lord needs to be stopped as soon as possible. "This is the second time we've heard about a local hermit. Can you tell us anything about him?"
Prophet turns to see Rex, and once he recognizes him, he steps forward with a laugh and claps his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Rex! Glad to see you, boy. What brings you--" He pauses at his old companion's question, and glances around. "Let's talk somewhere quieter."
The half-orc guides the wiry youth to an out-of-the-way spot, whether inside the dining hall or in a corner of the trading post, and looks him over. "Good to see you in one piece. Sorry about the secrecy and all, but, well... These folks don't exactly know what I used to do. And I guess you don't know what it is I do now." He fishes in his sack for a moment and pulls out the charter. "Look it over, kid. Guess you win that bet with Skinner--I've gone legit." Then he coughs and shrugs. "Well, sort of, anyway. Not like I actually got handed that paper, but it says whoever has it, so I figure it's good enough. And if it gets me safe land and good gold, well, maybe I'll shove Hanhar here up the Stag Bugger's arse after all. I can watch after my own head."
Once Rex hands the charter back, Prophet carefully rolls it up again and sticks it in his bag. "So what brings you here, Rex? Ain't exactly the kind of place you can rob all on your onesie."
After settling in, Gallidren will find an interesting traveler to talk with.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Haven't heard of Tuskgutter. Tell us more."
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Gallidren rubs his chin as he listens to the woman's story. "Where specifically did this kobold attack occur?"
He thinks back to the kobolds encountered at the moon radish patch.
Shifting in his seat to listen to the older man. Refusing to look anywhere but his face since Theo has never actually seen someone with a peg leg. Fighting back the urge to want to tend to that, since he knows returning someone leg is not a skill he has. But apparently preventing that from happening to someone else might be.
Where in the forest did you encounter this beast? And was it alone? And do you know anyone else that has fought with it?"
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Jonathan listens intently, fidgeting with his hunting knife as he thinks about Tuskgutter's details. "Twas a damn shame what it did to your leg, pa... a damn shame. I figure you either were a hunter or unlucky enough to find Tuskgutter, in any case you did have some luck left if you survived. By what I'm hearing I'd bet it's some kind of dire boar if not something entirely stranger." the hunter says before drinking his ale.
"Thick as steel skin with boney stuff coming out of his back, as if it were covered in damn rocks, am I right? If his tusks are that big he isn't young either... a mighty beast indeed, one that I'd love to hunt." Jon seems to look at the older gentleman, but at the same time his gaze isn't focused, as if he was picturing Tuskgutter in hia mind... planning the hunt "Damn, I'll be honest, I think I might craft you a new leg from his tusk, let you take back what he took from you, how does it sound pa?"
"Thank you, Erin, we will talk with him about it. Is there anything else we can help you with?"
Query. Why has the Stag Lord not taken issue with this Bokken?"
Marcus grinned. "I like the way you think, Jon."
He squinted at the disassembled bear trap in front of him. "Wonder if we can't use the same trick as the one that worked on the werewolf. I'm gonna need more chain."
Flinching at the quickly offered promise but saying nothing of the conflict within concerning that oath. Looking over at Marcus, "I am sure we can find you more chains considering how useful that trick was."
Shifting his attention back to the older man and waiting for the answer to his questions.
Prophet frowns and nods at Rex's news. "I had a feeling it was all going south. Sorry to hear about Skinner. Man was a right bastard, but we all were, and he didn't deserve to go like that. Damn shame." He sighs and runs a hand across his jaw. "Guess I can follow why you'd come out here, then. Best not to stick around with that madman in charge of things."
He cracks his neck then, and sits down. "Far as the people I'm with, I ain't exactly told 'em about where I got this paper, kid. I've been going back and forth on whether or not they'd be alright with it. Some of 'em seem good enough, and we picked up another bandit runaway--kid named Marcus, from another camp, you know of him? Anyway, there's that, but then some of 'em have a real problem with us types." He shrugs and looks up at Rex. "Short of it is, maybe just keep a low profile for a bit."
"Kid, you know how I go. Thinking ahead just bogs you down." He laughs, and it's tinged with nervousness, but mostly calm. "There was a phrase back in the Hold. Don't burn the bridge before you get there."
"You have every right to be afraid of ghosts. They can be dangerous if provoked. We'll look into it and see if we can't help him move on. If nothing else, the defeat of the Stag Lord should send him off to the Boneyard."
As the man made his exit, Kahurangi considered the opportunity to confront the ghost for a moment. "Though I would like to see the land free of a haunt as much as the next person, I think maybe our efforts could be focused better elsewhere. I get the feeling our friend there isn't telling us the whole story."
Creon remains silent and awaits a gathering of all of his allies, he suspects that more than just this information has come to them this night.
Either later that night or early the next morning, the group finds time to reconvene before they head back out into the wilderness. Oleg brings out several bowls of stew and some freshly baked bread before heading off back into the house. One by one, the others who you spoke to filter out to their beds, leaving you all alone around the fire.
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Jonathan has always been an early bird. At dawn he woke up and went outside, wearing simple clothes and his bow & quiver.
On his way out he asked for an apple with a smile.
Once outside the trading post, the hunter placed the apple and three arrows sticked on it on the ground and prayed. He asked the Great Father to protect Oleg's as well as the visitors of the thriving community. He asked the Hunt Lord to keep his bowstring tense and his aim true. He finally asks the Town Protector to shield his new friends for harm and keep their bowls filled.
Jon returns smiling and sits to eat breakfast, and when the others make an appearance he shares the Dire Boar's quest and proposes to start with it. "This hunt would be a bliss to these parts. We'd rid the region from a menace, and the head of that beast mounted on that very wall would remind any traveller that the community is strong and there is a group that cares for it."
"I've been working on some adjustments to my traps. I think we can make short work of the pig." Marcus added.
"What did the rest of you do?" he asked
Annika explains the story of the hermit and the ghost to the others. "I agree that the boar is likely a threat that we could clear out, especially if it's been harassing travelers. But I'm worried about this ghost. Restless spirits have a tendency to cause a lot of trouble if they're left unattended. But I doubt there's much we can do about it as long as its grudge keeps it tethered to this world."
Marcus' eyes narrowed a bit and he became more subdued as Annika started talking about a ghost.
"Did you find out anything about the ghost? Who they were? Any survivor stories about what it wants?"
"He seems to be a victim of the Stag Lord's bandits. He's been haunting an old toll bridge that he used to run until the bandits decided not to pay and offed him. And he wants revenge by all accounts."
"Oh, that's just great." Marcus sighed.
"There is also a tribe of kobolds that are more aggressive than is normal. They attacked a pair of hunters. The one that was injured is convalescing at the hermit's place. Perhaps we should ask further questions if we make it to the hermit."
"Statement. We should ascertain a logical order in which to approach each task we wish to address to ensure maximum efficiency. Gaining allies against the Stag Lord should be the highest of priority".
Rising before the sun and quietly exiting the inn to go kneel in the yard and await the rising sun. [i]The dawn brings new light. This land need the touch of your cleansing light oh Dawnflower. Please grant all of the wisdom and strength to achieve this goal.
Eventually wondering back in and taking a sit for the first meal of the day and a bit of catching up with the others. Keeping quiet for sometime before speaking up, "Do we currently have a way to harm the lingering spirit? I am all for moving that soul on to judgment but that is a fight that we need to be cautious about. Perhaps we should ask Jhod if he knows anything about this?"
Turing to look at Creon, "Tending to these issues will give people the faith they need in our skills to be willing to rally behind us."
After discussing their findings of the night before, the group sets out for Bokken's hut. The morning's weather is nice and calm, making the trip an easy one. Given the directions you've heard of before it's not hard to find the old hermit's hut. The ramshackle abode is constructed of old lumber and stone and sits in the middle of a field, completely in the open. After a few raps on the old door and it slowly creaks open, and the noise of someone frantically moving around comes from farther within. "What do you want?" shouts a voice from within the small home, clearly that of an old man. "I'm very busy, so spit it out."
Prophet grunts at the description of the ghost, and nods with Marcus's assessment. Always the bandits are the problem. Maybe Rex was right. But the half-orc just shakes his head and heaves a breath. "Creepy's right. Let's take things as they are, and deal with them as we get there."
The next day, he communes with his Kordator spirit and sets out with the others. "We heard you've got a guest here, old-timer. A wounded woman. A friend of hers sent us."
"Ain't got no woman here! Woman dropped him off, though." The old man stops talking, and an awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment. "Well, come in here! It's not like he's gonna walk out to ask how you're doing." The inside of the hut seems cozy if a little bare-bones, and a variety of alchemical equipment sits around the hermit's home. A few brews are suspended over the fire while other reagents sit around in labeled jars, some of which are spilled over onto his small table. "Back here! C'mon then!" The old man, whom you can only assume is the hermit Bokken, is a withered old human with wild hair and an unkempt beard. While not senile by any stretch of the imagination, the old man clearly has a bit of madness in his gaze. "You wanted to talk to 'im, didn't you?" On the cot between them is an injured ratfolk, his left leg wrapped in bandages. Blood has begun to seep through the gauze and Bokken unravels another few strips before slathering on an odd-looking green paste.
"Did Erin send you?" the ratfolk asks. He leans up on his cot as Bokken begins to unravel the bandages. "She said she was headed to the trading post... but you're not guards. Who are you?"
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Jonathan removes his hat as a polite sign when he enters the hut. "May Erastil bless you, grandpa, thank you for your hospitality."
The hunter's gaze moves from one item to the next, examining everything out of sheer curiosity "I hope you don't take no offense, grandpa, but when the others told me of an hermit living out here by himself... I started to worry. I've spent my fair share od time alone in the land, and twas not an easy journey." the hunter says while scratching his left ear "Now I think different, this place... this place evokes in me a sense of safety I long hadn't felt. Not since I was a young'un..."
The gravely voice of on one of Theo's old tutors drifts to the forefront of his mind. Gum, "Ghost are very difficult to hurt. Our mundane weapons will pass right though them and most magical weapons have issue finding purchase in the flesh that is no longer there. There are magical enchantments that can be placed on a weapon to wound them. But there is a much cheaper and there for weaker option, though it may the only option if you all want to go deal with the ghost soon. Much like the alchemical silver there is a a weapon glaze called ghost salt. But it works like the alchemical silver. So we would have to plan very carefully."
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Offering Bokken a polite nod, "Thank you sir, for letting us into your home."
"The guards are spread a little thin right now, so you got stuck with us instead." Marcus shrugged a the Ratfolk with a small self-effacing grin. "What happened?"
"We're here to clean up the area," Annika clarifies. "And we hoped that you could help us. We heard that you were attacked and we wanted to know the details."