Treshiell leans close to the horse and whispers something in a hushed voice before grabbing the mount with both hands. The horse whinnies in protest followed by a cry of discomfort as Treshiell's magic pulls the wound from its body. The cry stops as suddenly as it came and the horse is once again calm. Treshiell gives it a soothing pat then returns to the fire, throwing a handful of crimson dust into the flames.
The rest of the night passes uneventfully.
As you move on the next morning, you head south into hilly terrain. Mid-day, you find what must be a branch of the Shrike River. Traveling southwest along it, you come to a thick, sagging rope hanging across the water, all that remains of a bridge that once spanned it.
A signpost at the end of the ruined bridge reads “Nettles’ Crossing — 5
coppers—ring bell for service" and a rusty bell hangs by the sign.
On the far bank, you can see the crumbled remains of a burnt-down wooden building are slowly being overgrown by encroaching vegetation.
Treshiell, you get a nagging sense of deja vu from the scene, as if you'd seen it before.
Agnar shades his eyes to peer at the ruins across the water.
"Looks like Nettle's Crossing is out of business."
"Ah' wonder who bothered trying to run a toll bridge all the way out here?" Rupert ponders, looking around for any sign of life in the area.
Perception
Orin looks around the wreckage of the bridge before saying to Rupert "Odds are that this was the only place in the area to ford the river. That would make it a highly advantageous place to place one. Unfortunately that means we may have to travel a distance to find a place to cross." With that he begins to nudge his horse upstream to search for a place to cross.
Perception check:
Treshiell dismounts and walks straight for the sign. She stands silent for over a minute watching the remains of what once was Nettles' Crossing, either unaware or ignoring her surroundings. When she finally speaks it is with a cold monotone tone. "Someone died here, did you know that?"
The witch pokes the bell once then searches through her slingbag eventually producing the small silver mirror that has demanded her attention for the last few nights. "We do not know what will happen, but you might want to look away", she warns then rises the mirror and turns its reflective surface towards the water.
Nothing seems to happen, Treshiell.
The mirror doesn't seem to show a reflection, but rather the remains of a wooden bridge, water seeming to rush up and cover everything, with a few bubbles of air escaping. Oh so faintly, you can hear what almost sounds like water running and a muffled cry for help coming from the looking glass.
It quite clearly looks like the remains of the bridge you are now standing at.
"Hold up, look at that!" Rupert says, pointing at the mirror and walking over to get a better look. He puts his ear close to the mirror to see if he can hear the cry any better. "Someone needs help in there, or somethin'."
"What d'you s'pose that mirror does, anyway, Treshiell?"
"Hmm..." Agnar takes an interest in the device, but refrains from comment until Treshiell has had a chance to weigh in.
Treshiell breaks her immersion with the mirror and gazes deep into Rupert's eyes. "We don't know. Maybe it contains a memory. The mirror has been here before. It does not want to revisit this place." With that she returns the mirror to her sling bag. Without a word Treshiell returns to her horse like the exchange never happened. When mounted the witch looks to the group expecantly, waiting for someone to take the lead.
Treshiell kicks her horse into a trot. She starts to hum a tune which turns out to be an upbeat affair and quite a contrast from the images in the mirror.
Agnar gives a slight smile and shakes his head as he watches her ride off.
"Never know which way that girl is gonna jump," he says to Rupert. "Hopefully she figures out what she's got with that mirror soon. The suspense is liable to kill me."
He mounts up and heads after the others, giving a look back at the ruined bridge with a growing feeling they'll be back this way again.
The next evening, and trip to the kobolds cavern, is uneventful.
As you approach, several kobolds wait outside, joined by Edrukk. "Back so soon?" the dwarf asks.
"The kobolds have Taerine's ring", Treshiell says having just finished her song, skipping the normal pleasantries. Then she adds, with her head slightly titlted to the left: "You are taller than we remember."
"Aye, Treshiell's got the right of it. Figured we might trade for it and get it back to Stevic."
Back at the crossing:
Orin watches as Treshiell produces the mirror and points it at the river, as nothing happens he shrugs his shoulders and continues to search for a way to ford the river.
At the kobolds:
"Aye, apparently they took it from the mites, who in turn stole it from Kressle's gang. We promised Stevic we'd return it."
"I remember him complaining about it," Edrukk says with a nod. "Come in and we'll see if we can't find it, though it may take some time to scrounge it up. Tell me about what you've been up to since you left."
Later that evening, the ring has been located, and Chief Sootscale holds it up like a prize. "It am one ring, a jewel for all," the black-scaled kobold says. "You say you am want to trade for it?"
Agnar steps up and produces a pair of sealed ceramic pots. "These could be useful to your tribe, Chief Sootscale. Alchemist's fire. Throw them at an enemy and the liquid within will burn when the pot breaks. Helpful if the mites attack again. Weapons may not hurt them much, but they burn as well as anything else made of flesh and bone. I would offer these in exchange."
Chief Sootscale lets out a strange chirping sound as he shakes his head. "Sootscales agree. You wait."
He then barks out something in draconic and Mikmek runs off, returning a short time with a slightly battered wedding ring.
While he's gone, Treshiell translates unbidden for the chief: "He laughed at your and says 'You am bad trader, but Sootscales take burning liquid.' "
Agnar gives a smile. "It is as the chief says. I am no merchant." He gratefully accepts the ring and tucks safely away in his belt pouch.
"Perhaps you will get better if you practice", Treshiell suggest. "We think you should start out small. And smile." The witch dismounts during the wait and walks up to the cage next to the cave entrance.
"Who is the prisoner?" she asks looking at the cage.
"Who is the prisoner?" she asks looking at the cage.
The chief seems confused by your concern, Treshiell. "Oh, he am died," he says, cocking his head quizzically.
"Another victory for the sootscales", Treshiell says abscently and looks at the empty cage before returning her attention to Erdrukk.
"What have they been up to since we left? What do kobold's do?"
The dwarf shrugs. "It's kind of hard to tell. They just seem to run around a lot, looks like to me. They've been doing lot o' trapping, tryin' to build their stores back up after th'winter and their war with th'mites."
The evening, the dwarf takes a close look at the mirror with Treshiell. Though it takes several hours, you're finally able to realize it's in fact a rare magic item called a haunting glass! It appears to have a haunt currently in it, water rushing up to claim someone falling off a bridge as it's destroyed, likely Nettle's Crossing.
"What a curious trinket," Rupert says, after hearing the description. "Ah' suppose yeh' should keep it, Treshiell, ah' think it suits yeh best."
"Do they hunt much?" Treshiell asks, almost the second after Erdrukk has finished. It is unclear if she even listened to his anwser at all. "Do they leave the lair? To scout? We freed them to scout."
Treshiell runs her hands back and forth over the surface. She looks abit like she's lost interest now that the mystery is gone. Thaal gives an annoyed hiss as he is forced from his resting place as Treshiell opens her sling bag and places the mirror back inside. "Who do you think drowned? Do you think we can place bandits there?"
Orin leans over to Agnar as he makes his offer for the ring and whispers "There's a bag of magic dust that the kobolds took as well. See if you can get them to sweeten the deal."
That night Orin will check with the group "I think we need to sweep the south side of the river back to the ruined bridge and check out the ruins there before we head back to the trading post."
Edrukk nods slowly at Treshiell's question ... then breaks into a grin. "Aye, they hunt. One of 'em was out looking for us all in fact. Hasn't left me alone since he got back. I bet he'd really like traveling with you."
He turns to one of the kobolds nearby and says loudly and slowly: "PRA-ZIL. Get Pra-zil." The creature runs away and shortly comes back with a pair of kobolds, one of them with the typical dark scales of the rest of the tribe, but the other a bright red.
Before they arrive, Edrukk also confides in you that he thinks they may have found the Stag Lord's base. "It's a little out of the area of our charter, but it could be somethin'. I was thinking maybe someone should go down to check it out with one of the little buggers, then report back so we can come up with a plan." He looks at Rupert, clearly who he thinks would be best-suited for the dangerous mission. "You get caught, you can play bandit, like th'time we ran into Kressle's bunch."
The bright red kobold, wearing the skull of what might be a dragon along with its skin as a mantle, as well as a tattered cut off cloak that was clearly sized for a medium person, begins nodding his head and making snapping noises with his jaw. "Kereek here! Kereek meet bigfoot big heroes! Bigfoot big heroes need mighty Kereek magic-kobold? Kereek go with bigfoot heroes?" he says in what could charitably be described as broken Common, while clearly preening under the attention.
"אותי זה כאן ... מה אני לי שהוא צורך" The greyscaled kobold's eyes widen as he approaches and he begins bouncing energetically from one to the other, his hands waving in the air gleefully. A garishly painted shield rattles across his back and clacks off his dragonscale armor as he continues to perform jumbled motions that look vaguely similar to a victory dance.
When he finishes he wipes a single tear from his eye and looks up expectantly at the group, wonder clearly apparent on his scaly face.
Me am here! What am me being needed for?
Kereek sneers at the other kobold. "אתה לא צריך. גיבורים גדולים אין צורך הגמד הרע שרוכבים על הכלב!"
At Kereek's words, Prazil staggers backward, his hands clutched over his chest as his look of wonder quickly shifts to one of abject disappointment. His large eyes begin to fill with tears, his nose begins to twitch involuntarily, and his breath escapes in short, staggered sniffling gasps.
"*שבורות לב דמעות*"
*sniffle*
Tears stream from his eyes, the tiny armored kobold having obviously been devestated by something. He continues to wail, inconsolable, as more and more of the tribe turn their attention to him and Kereek.
Kereek looks oddly embarrassed as Prazil starts to wail. His shoulders droop and he mutters in low Draconic: "בסדר. הם זקוקים לך. אתה טיפש אם כי עדיין."
Prazil's wailing abruptly stops and, after a few blank looks toward Kereek, realization strikes and his strange victory dance immediately resumes. When he stops, a large grin takes in most of his face, and he wavers a bit as if dizzy and about to tip over. The energetic kobold remains on his feet though, and after another moment, a paniced look washes across his scaled face. He rattles off rapidly in his yipping fashion, "אני כל כך מצטערת! כל כך גס! אפילו להציג את עצמי כדי לרגליים גדולים! לכל השדים! זו אחת בלילה פראז! אנו מוצאים צנוניות יותר, כן? אתם משתפי של צנוניות, כן? ייפ ייפ!"
"I am so sorry! So rude! Not even introduce self to bigfeets! Gah! This one am Prazil! We find more radishes, yes? You are the sharers of radishes, yes? Yip Yip!"
Kereek, still looking slightly morose, translates for his clutchmate to the bigfoot heroes. "Him Prazil. Him very rude. Him want to share radishes. Him ride smelly wolf-dog. Him not nearly as mighty as Kereek!"
Agnar watches the exchange between the two kobolds like a man who knows he should turn away, but just can't stop watching. He looks suspiciously at Treshiell, certain that this is somehow her fault. Finally, Orin's whispers seem to penetrate the haze and he snaps out of his stupor. He turns his attention back to the chief.
"My companion said you have a bag of magic dust you won from the mites. If I offer you twice as many flasks of alchemist's fire, may we have that as well?"
Treshiell watches the kobold conversation with relaxed attention. When Prazil's temper tantrum is done she listens to Kereek's translation, and then tilts her head. "Why do you dislike Prazil?" she asks the red scaled kobold in her hazy tone.
The chief suddenly glares at you, Agnar.
"Why we give you ring AND dust for just one magic fire juice bottle instead give you ring for two?!"
He seems quite incensed by the proferred deal!
Agnar looks surprised. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, assuming there's been something lost in translation.
"No, good chief," he says, reaching for the two flasks and setting them down on the ground before him. "These two bottles of fire juice for the ring..." and pulls another two from the pack. "and these two for the dust." He sets those down next to the others. "All these for the ring and the dust."
The kobold looks at the four vials and seems to ponder. "Oh, OK, this am OK deal." He takes the vials and brings out the ring and a pouch with one dose of magical dust.
Orin does a facepalm "We really need to get a Priest of Abadar to handle our negotiations."
Treshiell watches the kobold conversation with relaxed attention. When Prazil's temper tantrum is done she listens to Kereek's translation, and then tilts her head. "Why do you dislike Prazil?" she asks the red scaled kobold in her hazy tone.
Kereek looks at the woman with a mix of wonder and awe at her obvious lack of observation. "He am dull! He no mighty like Kereek! Also he always take big radish. Mom like him best." Kereek looks disgusted and mutters the last line, scowling at his clutchmate.
Prazil smiles warmly at Kereek and the bigfeets, oblivious to all that's being said but loving every blessed second of it.
Agnar gives a bow. "You are wise, chief. You have our thanks."
Aside to Orin: "I don't know what you're complaining about. That was my alchemist's fire."