Vosil looks raptly at the enormous pile of cooked pig. "One can never have too much bacon, Goodwife Leveton. I heard a convincing philosophical proof to that effect in my last visit to the Society headquarters in Absalom. It simply isn't possible."
After his third or fourth helping, however, washed down with whatever passes for coffee in this place (Note to self: place order for Qadiran kava beans, soonest), he sighs with contentment and pushes his plate away.
"I take it there is a map of your explorations thus far?"
============
Kaalib
============
Talia shrugs. "You've got not debt as far as I'm concerned, but far be it for me to tell you how to live your life. As for proper wages, that's an equal share. So... I guess we're in agreement then."
Pausing for a second, Talia allows a look of apprehension to cross her face. Then she pushes it aside and standing, gives the kobold a smile before taking her leave.
----------------------
The meat one legendary boar can produce is simply disgusting. Talia, like all Brevic, can certainly appreciate a good, filling meal, but the amount of food being piled onto her plate is coma-inducing. Oh, my kingdom for a Pastel dou Nata, or a fresh-caught river trout. Groaning, just the slightest, the playwright pushes the rest of her meal away.
"Dregan's been mapping, I'm sure he'll be happy to show you. We've covered about half the Greenbelt so far. Directly to the south there's rolling hills, to the southeast a large old-growth forest. At least one river with forks or tributaries, or perhaps two or more separate rivers, flow from the forest into the hills. To the far west beyond the forest lies grassland. We know the bandits, ruled by a so-called Stag Lord, reside to the south, somewhere, along a Lake. I'm not convinced this 'Stag Lord' is real."
"We have essentially two duties we're undertaking. The ridding of the bandits from this land, and the mapping of the Greenbelt. Tell me, new friends, how do you think we should proceed?"
Magna happily gets her share of the bacon, a glowing smile showing her enjoying the banquet.
"We need to get rid of the bandits, so we can finish exploring the place without worrying of an ambush or an attack to the Leventons. We already had a plan, making ourselves pass as brigands. We have delayed it long enough. Is time to act!"
|
Edric pores over the map closely, muttering quietly to himself. He produces a neatly squared slate and a set of coloured chalks and begins to compare the two.
"There isn't much I can add to this map I'm afraid. Much of my travel has been to the east of here. I must have passed this way but it may have been months ago and I don't seem to have any record of it any more.
In terms of our target - where is the main bandit camp you have heard of? Assuming it is where you suggest then it must be south of the river. You have located only one crossing point at the moment?" He gestures to the only bridge marked on the map "Unless this is also a crossing? .
So the forest lies on this side of the river and the main bandit camp on the far side. If that is so then I would recomment exploring the forest. If there were any satellite bandit camps then I would expect them in the woods. Clearing the woods would prevent an attack from the flank or possible reinforcements. Regardless of the veracity of this 'Stag Lord' we should investigate the woods. I trust you concur Lady Magna? One of Torag's chosen will no doubt comprehend the strategic implications better than I."
Just as his speech ends Edric doubles over, clutching the edge of the table so hard the old wood creaks. His breath comes in ragged bursts for a few moments and, as he looks up, the whole group sees his eyes consumed by blackness.
Vosil smiles, aglow with the satisfaction of bacon. "New friends... I like that, Lady. It sits well with me. Since you ask my counsel, I offer it as a friend: "
He stands, glaring. "You cannot possibly take the fight to the bandits at present. You do not know where they reside. You do not know if their leader is mythical or real. You do not know their numbers. You do not know their disposition - archers? Cavalry? You do not know their location - are they in a camp? Do they dwell in a village? In fortifications? You have no plan for dealing with them, beyond riding out and - what, exactly? Hoping they've posted no scouts, that there aren't too many of them? That right will triumph? That-"
He breaks off.
It's not them, he realises. It's not them he is angry at. The anger he feels is pent-up, from all those times that he should have said no to Natashya; should have told Little Miss Lodovka that enough was enough, that this was where it ended; that she was headed in too far. It is anger that instead he said yes. The anger is directed at himself.
It is his fault; it is his failure. It is his, and no other.
He shakes his head, silent, grief-stricken.
...
..
.
And then Edric has one of his seizures.
More grateful than he can possibly say for the distraction, Vosil leaps to his friend's aid, reassuring the others: "Do not panic - I have seen this before! He will be fine."
One arm around Edric's shoulders, he speaks calmly to his new friend. "You told me, when we met, that Desna protects you. You have nothing to fear from the phantoms of your past. She would want you to be free. You can master this."
|
|
And then Edric has one of his seizures.
More grateful than he can possibly say for the distraction, Vosil leaps to his friend's aid, reassuring the others: "Do not panic - I have seen this before! He will be fine."
One arm around Edric's shoulders, he speaks calmly to his new friend. "You told me, when we met, that Desna protects you. You have nothing to fear from the phantoms of your past. She would want you to be free. You can master this."
Trapped inside the darkness of his own mind Edric is surrounded by voices. Hissing whispers from all around invade his sanity as the frayed edges of his soul ripple under the assault of those beyond. Foul knowledge floods his already beleaguered defences and the past seeps into the present.
------------------------
"You useless fool!" His master's voice assaults his senses as the heavy whip assaults his body. "I'll kill you for this mistake!" Deep down Edric smiled grimly, his master would never kill him. Even aged eleven he knew that. Once, maybe, but now that he's hosted seven different devils and lived there was no way Eraxis would risk damaging his precious vessel. Edric had even heard his master boasting to a fellow Kuthonite about Edric, although the summoner had of course claimed all the credit himself.
*CRACK*
The snap of his forearm breaking was audible and even as Edric screamed he knew that this was the last blow. Eraxis' rage had run its course and his master, no longer a young man, stepped back hoarse breaths rasping from his mouth as his thug picked Edric up and hurled him into the summoning pit beneath.
------------------------
The darkness of past and present merge and as a renewed assault batters his consciousness Edric fails, desperate for any point of contact within the cloying and infinite darkness. Just as his fight slips away he feels two new presences.
The first is soft and strong, young and immeasurably ancient at the same time. Fear not my son, you are strong and one of my chosen, you do not die today. The second voice is much more mundane but just as infinitely welcome.
"You told me, when we met, that Desna protects you. You have nothing to fear from the phantoms of your past. She would want you to be free. You can master this."
Edric hurls himself 'up', away from the despair, away from the void. Drawn by his friend's voice he breaks the surface of consciousness like a drowning man breaching the water that was killing him.
Magna quickly kneels over Edric and puts his head on her lap. She puts a hand over his forehead and asks for Torag to clean him from the demons attacking him.
After the seizure ends, she turns towards Vosil, and questions him with a cold clam voice.
"Are you implying I am mad? Or that I am an imbecile?"
Vosil has used the distraction to regain his composure; he gives Magna a wry smile. "What would you say to one who tried to forge a weapon by simply taking the nearest bit of metal and bashing it with a hammer? Or what would you say to one who mined for ore by simply digging a hole in the ground - without having established that there was a seam there, or even that they had labour for the digging, or lumber to shore up the mine-shaft?"
That exhausts the sum total of his knowledge on those topics.
"I do not recommend a fight against an enemy you do not know. Gather knowledge, then by all means take the fight to them. Information is power."
A thought strikes him, and he turns back to Talia: "Oh, and Lady - from my study of the map and the accompanying notes, it seems you encountered an undead monstrosity who demanded the Stag Lord's body. That leads me to accept, at least for now, the existence of a 'Stag Lord' - for if he or she is not real, then how will you appease the wraith's demand?"
When the Desnan's eyes go black, Talia's up on her feet and moving backwards, one thought running to her mind even as her hand goes to her scorpion whip. Assassin!
But it passes quickly enough. Talia stands behind Dregan as Magna sees to the newcomer, however, just to make sure the threat is passed. "You should see a doctor about that. Or a priest."
----------
"Well, I probably should have phrased my words better, Vosil. I think the Stag Lord exists. But I know the tricks of the threatre. Flash and sound effects, little magics used for illusion and misdirection. The bandits, they're desperate and dumb folk, and few of them seem to have had much contact with this Stag Lord. Give them something larger than life to fear, and they will. The Stag Lord trades on his - or her, or their - reputation by appearing to be mythical."
"That's my supposition, anyways. But it further proves your point, Vosil. We're largely ignorant about our enemies. They are to the south, we know that. They are largely unrepentant and capable of doing great harm to others, we know that. We know they have a password for entrance into their hideout, and that so far we have encountered bandits that have only been human. But we've not been able to figure out much regarding their total forces, the identity or identities of this Stag Lord, or any lieutenants the Stag may have that are still alive."
"Oh, and some of the bandits that ran from our assault on their northern camp may have gotten a good look at Magna, and perhaps myself and Gavriil as well. The assault was in the dark, and Magna was made magically a giant, so we may be safe if we try to enter their fort under the guise of being fellow bandits. Or we may not. They could also have been surveying us these past few weeks."
"I don't know, Magna. That seems a risky path of action to me."
"What if we explore south along and into the woods, as Edric suggests, with the aim to find and survey the bandits and their hideout? Once we have the information, we can pass ourselves off if that's the best way to gain further information or entry to their hideout, or we can utilize a better plan of action, if one presents itself."
|
|
Edric regains full consciousness with a great gasp, followed by a hacking cough. It dies down as a familiar wave of gentle warmth passes through his body, courtesy of the woman whose lap he seems to be lying in.
But it passes quickly enough. Talia stands behind Dregan as Magna sees to the newcomer, however, just to make sure the threat is passed. "You should see a doctor about that. Or a priest."
"It's not something that can be cured I'm afraid my lady. No doctor or priest can repair the damage. If anything I suspect only dying would cure me, should I ever return from such a state.
Upon catching the mention of a wraith Edric shakes off the remnants of his fatigue and stands, before offering Magna a hand to do likewise.
"Since Gavriil has left that makes the plan of sneaking into the bandit camp quite a plausible one if only we can find where it is." He looks around. "I can understand your desire for a swift resolution Magna, but I must concur with Vosil - without more information we are rushing in and trusting in the Gods and we both know that divine aid assists problem solving but cannot do so alone.
I stand by my plan - we explore first and then we can launch a swift, decisive and above all planned assault to end this Stag Lord once and for all."
After a pause for objections he smiles around the room. "If people have finished with this excellent bacon shall we set off? No point in wasting any more daylight."
Kaalib smiled as the redheaded noble left. That went well. He didn't even mind the apprehension she left naked on her face as she left. Apprehension could mean fear, and fear and respect were very close in some ways. Now he just had to wrest control of the tribe from the Chief in due time, and then he could show all of them just how good a friend he could be.
---------------------------------------
Kaalib had a decent idea of where the Stag Lord was, or at least where to find out more information concerning him. But now wasn't the time for such things as far as he could tell. Exploration was also something he was interested in, and it would give more opportunity to practice his powers. He had only been able to manifest them for a little while, and he was still relatively untested in combat. The boar was just the first step, and it wasn't that good a test in any case due to the fact that it couldn't reach him at all.
To the oncoming debate, he remained silent, although the bacon helped with this as well. He was also pretty sure that if he came into it, it might encourage the Dwarf to double down on her bet it was time, especially if the kobold didn't think so. Actually, a bit of reverse posturing could encourage Magna to back down. If the only one who agreed with her was the kobold... but that was also likely to backfire. Best to go with the original plan.
"Either way you decide..." The kobold began, and a little black and red bird flew out of his mouth to land on the table in front of Magna, as Kaalib's claws went to his mouth in surprise. They'd have to come to a better agreement on when it was appropriate to come out. Kaalib had been neglecting him lately, so he guiltily let him have his way this time, providing he behaved slightly better.
Fluffing out his feathers as Kaalib glared at him from across the table, he piped in incredulity at the hammer of Torag. "You made a deal with an undead? Oh that is rich!" The thrush hopped over to Vasil, fluttering a bit and cocked his head as he asked him a question. "Got any other embarrassing things in those notes? Maybe I'll take a look now that we're official."
Vosil raises a solitary eyebrow as the black and red bird flies directly out of the kobold's mouth, but he nods politely enough to it. He directs a swift look at Kaalib: I take it this thing is yours? "By all means, take a look through the notes..."
In truth, he's grateful for anything further which covers his earlier - uncharacteristic - loss of control. He's not particularly interested in fielding questions; he prefers to gather information rather than divulge it.
His own mind is wandering elsewhere. 'Stag Lord' ... have I heard that before? And if so, where? It is time to consult Encarta. Going to his pack, he removes a large, slightly dog-eared but sturdily bound volume which bears the title Encarta's MS: Reflections & Observations For the Well-Travelled in gold along its spine. This is one of Vosil's Pathfinder Chronicles, which - like any good Pathfinder - he has supplemented with his handwritten notes on his own travels. He scans through the pages rapidly, trying to piece together everything that he has learned.
Click. Irrespective of what it tells him of the Stag Lord, re-reading his own notes suddenly puts a few things into perspective: Talia's mention of stagecraft a few moments ago is the final piece in the jigsaw. Ha. At least I know now that she's no Surtova lackey. No wonder she was so jumpy when Edric did his thing! She's probably wondering if the Surtovas are coming after her...
He looks narrowly at Talia for a moment, before grinning broadly: "Lady, tell me out of interest - are you a playwright, by any chance? One who mayhap has learned first-hand that caution must needs where the Surtovas are concerned?"
"I must say I agree with...Edric? Is it? On the plan to scout along the forest." Kesten says from the doorway where he was waiting. "Our risk is minimal with Asha patrolling daily, and the local trappers have been keeping me abreast of goings on in the area. No bandits or camps have been spotted since you dealt with the group away south at Thorn Ford."
He sits down and pulls up a plate heaped with bacon. "My two coppers, anyway." Then he digs in.
Talia pinches the bridge of her nose and frowns, before looking from the thrush to the Lore Warden. She could feel the beginnings of a headache lurking behind her temples, the slightest piercing pain.
"That's Kaalib's familiar. Its rather cheeky for a bird. And yes, Vosil, I see my reputation preceeds me, for better or worse. At least tell me you enjoyed the play."
"Kesten, it is good to hear there's been no bandit sightings lately. It must mean we've got them reeling and off-balance. Any swordlord will tell you when your opponent is reeling, don't let up."
"At any rate, I think Edric has the right idea. Look into the forest for some more camps, make our way south, and locate the Stag Lord's lair, and plan a decisive end to this Stag Lord and his men."
"Bolstered as we are with our new allies, we stand a better chance against the bandits now than ever. Still, undue haste is not our ally. The Stag Lord likely has no way to grow his forces. Bringing him to justice need not be rushed, now that those he preyed upon are protected," the wizard adds.
"Talia's plan is sound. We must neither tarry, nor rush headlong to fight. And if nothing else, we must learn to fight alongside Vosil and Edric before we confront the bandits' leader."
"We know a lot about the Stag Lord. We captured one of their men, and he has turn his heart, and let us know much about him, his lair, and his forces. But if the trading post is safe, then hurry is not needed. We can continue exploring, and close slowly to face him."
20 Gozran 4707
Heading southwest from Oleg's you pass through the various sites you've explored in the recent past. The spider's nest, the gold mine (still hidden), south past the the bandit camp, and over the Thorn River via the rickety bridge there . Then through the area where you found Tuskgutter , and continue westward through the forest. The forest on the eastern half is tall oaks and ash, hardwoods holding the hills of Kamelands, But the elevation begins to drop almost immediately, and eventually runs downwards to another river - the Skunk river. Trappers have told you about this river, and indeed you ran into the headwaters of it some time ago. The stench carries far into the forest, but the smell is strongest at the river's edge.
"And yes, Vosil, I see my reputation preceeds me, for better or worse. At least tell me you enjoyed the play."
Vosil has spent much of the last ten years escorting pompous, spoiled brats noble little bastions of the aristocracy across most of Avistan, so he manages to avoid sighing too obviously when Talia demands that he stop what he's doing and give her ego a quick stroke. Nobles: can't live with 'em, not allowed to go Galt on 'em...
Aloud, he says only "Alas for me, Lady, but no: two weeks ago I was in northern Brevoy, on the Lake of Mists and Veils; a fortnight before that, I was fleeing Taldor in something of a hurry. Perforce, my opportunities for culture have been somewhat limited of late, although I did see a fine production of Guillaume of Galt's Romero y Gilleta some months ago. I should be more than happy to discuss the arts with you in depth - but perhaps some other time?"
Romero y Gilleta is possibly the only play in recorded history where the two romantic leads simultaneously (and by mutual agreement) behead one another in the last act. Vosil is sure that it was trying to say something profound about the human condition, but his main concern was trying to prevent the actor playing Romero from seducing his ward during the interval.
"Now, according to my notes, the so-called Stag Lord came out of nowhere a matter of months ago and began organising the bandits of the Greenbelt, and gathering more. He is rumored to be a giant of a man, with the strength of three men... And I think it is at this point that we depart from the solid shores of fact and risk drifting off into the uncharted seas of speculation." Vosil firmly closes the copy of the Chronicle he's holding, with a snap.
"Shall we away?"
Smiling, Talia nods. "That's too bad, Vosil. I have a copy of my play here. I'll loan it to you, but I ask you don't take it on the trail with us - it is the only copy I've got. We'll have plenty of time to talk about Romero y Gilleta on the trail"
I wonder if he knows it is the only play in existence where the romantic leads behead each other in the final act? I'll have to mention it - later.
20 Gozran 4707
It is strange, riding in silence with no annoying, bawdy songs. Talia stays to the middle of the group, her cloak wrapped tight, and looks out into the forest, searching for anything of interest. Instead, just trees, oaks and ash trees according to Dregan, towering and ancient. The trees are pretty, but after awhile, they seem to blend together, and Talia has trouble seeing them from the forest.
The jarring smell of the Skunk river brings Talia back to attention, and she spends the day trying to be helpful, though she knows little about the area, and would be hopelessly lost without the others. Still she spots a ruby red woodpecker (according to Dregan) and the footprints of a white-tailed deer (according to Vosil). I'm getting better at this.
"Ah yes, that smell, like a skunk's spray. The headwaters are to the north, and are particularly foul. This would mean there are in fact at least two separate rivers here, correct, as the other river doesn't have this stench?"
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Edric rides quite happily, allowing the conversation to wash over and around him. Art is not something he knows anything about at all but against the pleasure of being in the saddle and riding under the open skies he doesn't mind much. Even the reek of the aptly names Skunk river does little to dampen his mood, although he keeps a sharp eye out at all times.
B4:
B4:
A4:
A4:
a4:
a4:
b4:
b4:
Knowledge:
Perception:
Naralesh is glad to be traveling in pleasant weather for a change. It seems we always set out when it's fair, and the elements turn fierce when we set off for home, he muses. He spends his time in camp playing with Nora and making notes in one of his notebooks of a curious quality he's discerned when stepping between dimensions with his magic. It seems almost as if the planar ether here is "thinner" than he's encountered farther north. I bet I could stretch my little tunnels through space even farther, he thinks, idly scribbling some half-completed formulas calculating the various factors involved in tearing holes in the fabric of reality.
Magna rides in a better mood than before, talking with Edric about his life and actions, and accompanying him on his dusk prayers.
She also includes Edric and Vosil in the Magna's Breakfast Teamwork Training, teaching them how to use her training to prepare for ambushes or attack the enemy in turns, distracting it.
Kaalib spends the next few days mending his broken relations with Orsheval. The bird spends quite a bit of time out flying around, being somewhat obnoxious, and being somewhat helpful in spotting terrain features and at times cleaning Kaalib's teeth. A good portion of the time he can also be overheard piping quiet Abadaran sermons to the quiet kobold, extolling the benefits of Civilization and law over strict adherence to good or evil. The bird is completely reverent when it comes to speaking the little sermons, as opposed to how he treats everything and everyone else. The bird has several passages of holy texts memorized and isn't a terrible speaker, but he keeps his voice low as to not annoy people with what he's truly passionate about.
The kobold watches the Breakfast Training from a distance, snacking on bacon and staring at Magna. Talia might treat him as an equal partner in this, but the dwarf will not. It doesn't mean he has to make it easy on her. If it was a passive war she wanted, he'd oblige a little.
Magna looks at the Kobold, away from her training, with worried eyes. She fears he can ge gathering information on them, and their tactics.
The ground just east of the Skunk River here slumps away into a soggy mire, notable for the fact that a pair of ruined stone buildings jut from the soggy ground.
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"Hmm - shall we make for those buildings? Their foundations must be reasonably solid and we could set up for a short meal here, if our woodsman approves?" Edric looks to Dregan for approval before slowly coaxing his horse through the soggy ground.
I have missed this Edric muses as his horse gingerly picks its way forward. Travelling with good companions, clear air and good weather. I must do something to thank Magna for her acceptance, the training has been useful and it's pleasant to meet a person with a depth of faith similar to mine. She's even a good dancer!
"Better be careful..."
Magna signals the others to take the lookout stance, while she takes the point to explore the ruins.
Unfurling her scorpion whip, Talia moves behind Magna towards the ruined stone buildings, ready to strike at any visible threat.
On the ride, Nora perches on Naralesh's shoulders, watching Orsheval's flight overhead intently, as though wondering whether to pounce on the bird.
Once the group approaches the ruins, Naralesh slides off his armored coat, and reflexively replaces it with the invisible armor he has grown used to conjuring with his magic. Drawing his bow, he advances, keeping a short distance between himself and Magna. "We shall be wary."
Your group sloshes through the murky water, nearly knee-deep in the muck, as you struggle to get to the drier ground around the buildings. As soon as you are 50' from them, there is a geyser of mud and water as these creatures surge from the water in front of you!
The rider holds up both hands in front him - one of which is a poorly healed, mangled mess - and croaks out: "Truce! grrbtt Truce!"
Vosil is almost a different person in the wilderness: gone are the flamboyant, bright silks and velvet, replaced with practical, sturdy clothing made of durable fabric and drab in hue.
He willingly joins in with Magna's Breakfast Training, always looking for opportunities to learn new ways and styles of fighting. Beyond that, he endeavours to spend at least half an hour in a day training with his weapons, a solitary, flinty expression on his face as he does so.
The only indulgence he permits himself is in retaining his hat. He sustains this otherwise spartan existence by occasionally reciting poetry to himself, snatches of which can be heard by those nearby:
"...When that Gozran with his showres soote/ the droughts of Pharast hath perced to the roote..."
"...Gozran is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain..."
...
..
.
Gods, what IS that thing?!
Vosil carefully keeps his hands away from his whip or his (visible) knives, before raising one hand slowly to match the creature's gesture. "Truce," he agrees, at least for now. If it proves violent he supposes that they have the numbers to deal with it. And a few concealed weapons within easy reach, should it come to it.
Aside from that, he will let one of the more established members of the group do the talking, supporting as required.
Magna moves to the front on the group between the creature and the others.
"Don't move, and don't make any sudden moves. Who are you? What do you want? If you don't have evil intentions you don't have anything to fear from us."
The creatures sit, unmoving. The rider tilts his head at an odd angle while Magna speaks. His mount stands with heavily lidded eyes, chewing a huge wad of...something. He croaks: grrbbtt "Me...boggard" He holds his mangled hand to his chest. "Slurk." He says, slapping the lizard on the head. The big creature starts, sending waves of muddy water at you. Then it shifts and settles back in the mud, just its head and the 'boggard' rider above water.
"Truce. You...go!" grrbbtt
Talia rewinds her whip and moves - cautiously - to the edge of the water. "Truce, yes! Truce! We go... after some questions. You like food, yes?"
Slowly, Talia reaches into her belt pouch and brings forth a some cooked bacon from earlier in the morning, wrapped in cheesecloth for the road. Gently and deliberately, she tosses it to the creature.
"Truce yes food good! Your Taldane is very good! How you learn?"
Naralesh lowers his bow as Talia tosses the creature some food. "He may not know enough of our language to tell us much," he says softly to the group's de facto leader.
"Food?" grrbbtt "Food?...hungry..." The boggard kicks his slurk in the side and it lurches up, allowing the rider to catch the bacon thrown by Talia.
<sniff> <sniff> "Bug?" The boggard stuffs the bacon in its mouth, cheesecloth and all. He tilts his head from side to side as he chews, eyes looking skyward as he contemplates the bacon. After a moment he swallows with a loud 'galumph'.
"Truce hungry...you go!"
"Absolutely, we can leave right now - but where are the rest of your..."
Tribe? Clan? Community? Gathering? Enclave?
"...The rest of you, I mean. You live with other boggards, yes? Where are they?"
Gathering information is more than Vosil's calling - it is his life.
"And what happened to your hand?"
The boggard tilts his head again as Vosil speaks. Under him, the slurk rises and settles, and another wave of muddy water crests over your knees.
"Go! Go! Truce!" The boggard croaks, waving his mangled hand about frantically.
Magna detects evil on it.
"We mean no harm. We will go if you want, but maybe you chief will want to talk to us. We have news about the land. We can go unarmed if he thinks is better."
There does not appear to be any others about, nor are there any other dwellings.
Magna, slowly, takes her weapons and put them in a dry spot in the floor. She raises her hands, smiling lightly.
"Truce. We talk. We meet chief."
She points towards the back of the boggard, trying to convey the idea she wants to go to his home.
Talia digs into her saddlebags, and tosses another three rations to the boggard. "Yes, truce! Food! We go!"
Mounting Apple and turning the horse away from the creature, Talia looks over her shoulder. "I'll have Oleg send for some books on the creature's language, or better yet, a tutor if he can find one. Until then, let's just avoid this area. There's no way to talk to it, and it's no harm to us."
"I agree with Talia, this fellow seems nervous about our presence," Naralesh says, backing away with Talia and re-mounting his mare Susan. "There might be a magical way I can help as well, once we place another with Oleg. One of my teachers in the academy had never learned a word of Taldane, but utilized a spell to speak as fluently as a native. I could send for notes on a similar spell from Restov, if I can't develop one myself. That seems a good idea, even if we do find another way to communicate with the boggards. You never know who we'll encounter out here."
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Edric, having not spoken a word during the encounter, backs away with the rest. Once the group has backed away to a safe distance and remounted he looks around at the group.
"Is this how you usually resolve encounters out here? Please don't misunderstand - I approve, but I thought swords would be first resort not words. Its a pleasant change."
Magna, slowly, takes her weapons and put them in a dry spot in the floor. She raises her hands, smiling lightly.
"Truce. We talk. We meet chief."
She points towards the back of the boggard, trying to convey the idea she wants to go to his home.
"Go! Go! grrbbtt! The boggard calls as you slowly back away and mount your horses.
You can still hear it calling "Go! Go!" until you are well out of sight.
21 Gozran 4707
The forests continue here, more of the old growth oak and elm. In all directions except north, you see the forest continues. To the north, the forest of the Narlmarches breaks open into the plains.
Just on the northern edge of the forest you find a 15' foot statue of a man with a bow. Clearly a monument to Erastil, the base is somewhat overgrown, but the rest towers over the nearby shrubbery.
Talia dismounts Apple and begins moving about the area, looking for large angry bears. "Careful everyone, last time there were shapeshifters about."