Argus raises an eyebrow. Farming homesteads are rarely so elaborate. Maybe the country house of some nouveau riche?
Philgor's search around the back of the house reveals no signs of trouble.
Ort Turnell shrugs at Lyra's suggestion. "We don't know him well, but maybe he'll recognize us. He mostly keeps to himself, though."
Lyra's knock draws no response.
"Maybe the buggers have already fled?" Shackleton says, optimistically. "Can we afford to wait for em? Should we move on?"
Lisbet tries the door, fully expecting bad things to happen like they usually do around her. "Let's be sure they aren't hiding, thinking we are raiders."
"How is this place lush so verdant? Ate these plants normal? If he has magic, he may not need our help."
Lyra knocks again and calls out, just to be sure. Then she will try the door herself.
"Maybe magic, but we still have to check on him."
As Lyra reaches for the handle at the same time as Lisbet, the Ulfen says, "One at a time and I'm taller." Lisbet puts her shoulder between the summoner and the door.
You open the door, and see an older man leap -- slowly -- from the table in surprise.
"WHAT? WHO'RE YOU? WHAT'RE YOU DOING HERE? I WARN YOU, I'M ARMED AND YOU'LL NOT FIND ME ANY EASY PREY!" he shouts, reaching for a dirty knife.
Hearing the shout from inside the house, Philgor moves up to the back of the building to see if he can find a way inside or look through a window.
Lyra presents her empty hands as if this were a wild animal. "RELAX NEIGHBOR," she says as loudly as possible without shouting. "WE BRING NEWS FROM ARWELL STEAD."
The half-elf explains the situation and the offer to return to town.
The man shakes his head as Lyra begins telling the story -- interrupting that he's far too busy writing his book to go gallivanting off with just anyone -- but his entire demeanor changes when Philgor and Lyra finally enter.
His eyes shift to the half-orc and a moment later a flicker of recognition crosses his face.
"YOU!" he cries, as the young woman looks astonished at the reaction.
"HER!" he cries again, to the rest of you, gesturing at Vegazi.
He begins scrambling through his paperwork and finally pulls out several pieces of paper which he shoves toward you, with drawings of a man that looks a bit like Wate Arwyll and a young Vegazi.
“She rescued Captain Adil and myself many years ago from the Hell’s Fury prison camp!”
He grins at Vegazi as a look of confusion crosses her face.
"She helped us with a bit of devil trouble when we first met. How long ago were you a prisoner?"
Lisbet grins at the man, glad she didn't have to hurt him, He seems a nice enough fellow. However, the sun still turns in the sky, "We can jaw jack on the road. Things are coming and they are impatient, let's get you to Armyll's Stead."
"Alone!?" Shackleton says, grinning. "She's got gumption, this one. I'll give her that. I'll be hearing it, but Lisbet is right. Better at the Blissful Badger than here."
Philgor looks at Lisbet, "It is evening already. The children are tired. I think it would be better to stay here tonight and leave at first light."
"Perhaps, you can explain the story as we travel," Lyra suggests and explains their mission. "As our companion seems confused by your statement, it bears hearing out. Please tell us more."
and given the number of sisters we've encountered, and Arwyll Stead being the center of all this, I can see where this is going.
By evening, you reach a little house that sits on a level field about a half-mile from the road.
"Nice drawings, especially if you were going off of memory.... How long ago was it?"
"It was some time; a decade at least," he says. "My memory's still strong. It's why I'm recording me memoirs now. I can read part of them to you, if you want..."
"I'll have a gander, old boy." Shackleton says, accomplished speed reader.
The half-elf tries to secure a place for the family and the adventurers. She is willing to stay still for the story, but would rather not have a dozen people camping on the roadside this night.
"Start with the part of his capture," she asks Shackleton.
Nodding to Lyra, then addressing the old man "Hey, ya old goat, mind if we have some of your neighbors sleep in the house t'night? Better than leaving them outside to who knows what's out there."
Philgor speaks up,"I have always heard that farmers are the best fed men in the world because their wives are the best cooks. What do you say children? Should we have your mom fix us something to eat?"
He smiles at the farmer's wife and then nods to her husband to show the his only interest in her is her culinary skills.
The old man grins as you express interest in his writing, but snatches his papers away before Shackleton can see them.
At Philgor's comment, Ort grins ruefully. "I'm afraid I do the cooking in the family, but I'm happy to see if there's something we can eat. Come along, children," he says, retreating to Grev's kitchen.
As they leave, Grev begins to read from his tale. It's sadly clear right away that writing was not a natural skill for the man:
“And then I pulled my sword out of the orc, and the blade made a terrible smacking noise as the orc cried, ‘Raaarggh!’ If my sword had a voice, it would have screamed right back at the orc, spitting the monster’s blood in his face,” he begins.
He looks up to see your reaction, but then quickly returns to his papers.
“The stench was terrible. It was a battlefield stench, the kind you never forget: the wretched stink of blood and battle.”
"No, no," he says, "that part's not quite as good. Let me ... wait ... here it is!
“The battle was over, but even as my brothers and I whooped for victory, I noticed my bloody stump of an arm flopping about. Like a lumberjack apprentice’s first attempt at chopping down a fine cherry tree in its youthful bloom, the orcs had whittled my limb so badly it weren’t worth saving."
Eventually, you get him to tell you the story of his meeting with Vegazi. He had been captured, along with Adil Arwyll, a young nobleman, and several other soldiers from Arwyll Stead. They were being kept as slaves by a tribe of orcs. But then a battle broke out among the orcs. In the chaos, a girl -- Vegazi, it turns out -- freed all the slaves, who fled. Adil gave the girl his ring (which Vegazi still has, and shows you) in gratitude but they never saw her again as she slipped into the woods. Until now, obviously.
"Many thanks again, Vergazi. It seems rescuing is a habit of yours."
Presuming the man is going to join us in the morning, Lyra asks about nightwatch shifts while dinner is being prepared. She offers to take the middle watch and plans to send bats after any eagles if there is an attack. Even if she can't see any eagles in the attack.
Lyra places her fork in the sink and begins washing dishes after the meal.
Shackleton leans forward, nodding astutely as he listens to the man's tale. Great bard or not, they are guests under the man's roof. He eats a second helping of the meal, stacks up the dishes high, and gives the man a few silvers to restock his larder.
"Sounds like you've been doing good in these parts for years, Vegazi. Damned glad you're on our side." Shackleton says, giving his long-neglected spectacles a much needed polish after a long day on the dusty road. "And that was a fine meal, Ort. Damned glad you're along as well."
Shackleton casts a glance toward the children, heads nodding, and back toward Grev. "I wouldn't presume on your hospitality any more than we have already, but the little tykes could use a roof above their heads. We can bed down in the yard." he says, setting his spectacles back onto his nose, peering over them at their host. "Now, you being a literary man, might I presume to glance at your collection?" Shackleton ventures, hoping he might loan a few books for the road.
Argus nods to Lyra. Good that someone volunteered. Middle watch is the worst - getting up and bedding back down. "Always was a bit of a night owl. I'll take the first watch. Wake you at midnight."
He'll winch back the big crossbow and find a spot with good visibility - a hayloft or the like. Failing that, he'll get up on the roof.
"... and the dawn watch is mine. Can't stand to lay about when daylight's burning."
The night passes uneventfully, your bodies grateful for the chance to rest and recover.
In the morning, you prepare to read, Grev happily collecting his papers so he can read his tales aloud as you travel. As you step outside, however, the cawing of ravens in the nearby trees is deafening.
The steaders with you duck back into though in the nick of time as moments later, the birds take to the air in a pair of murders and begin winging toward you!
"Morrin's frozen t%%@! Don't these druids know how to fight like a warrior!? Always sending pests to do their work" Lisbet curses and steps forward and shouts, A surge of energy runs through her and her allies, bolstered by her boldness.
The half-elf narrows her eyes and peers into the dawn sky, seeking a familiar eagle. Or boar.
Argus briefly debates the merit of using fire in a forested area....
"Nuts to this!", he exclaims, stepping forward and lobbing an Explosive Bomb into the flock of crows.
Shackleton: 6*
Lyra: 3*
Philgor: 3*
Argus: 14
Lisbet: 13
Antagonist: 7
Argus' bomb lands amidst one of the flocks, sending flaming birds crashing to the ground, and scattering the few who survive.
Lisbet rushes toward the second swarm, which flies toward her, birds pecking and clawing at her and Lyra, who can't react in time to get out of the way as she searches fruitlessly for a familiar eagle.
As the murder flutters and swoops closer, Lisbet takes a mighty swing with her straight blade. Though she swats a few from the air, the rest are upon her cawing and clawing. Her haunts seems to help the ravens, dragging her face in line with a glossy beak, with a thwack her brow is cut and blood flows freely into her eyes. More and more ravens drive her back, tangling into her hair, getting into the cracks and crevices of her armor. Lisbet screams, but can hardly be heard over the noise of raucous ravens.
for
"Oh. Ow! Arr! Umph! Ouch! Oh. Ow! Arr! Umph! Ouch! Oh. Ow! Arr! Umph! Ouch!
The half-elf stops emiiting grunts only when the nausea overtakes her.
Shackleton rolls up his sleeves, and makes a few ineffectual swipes at the flock of ravens.
Philgor tries to break up the swarm with this pole arm. Swinging it over the heads of his companions.
Argus quickly brews another bomb - pouring the reagents into a tiny conical flask, with a lens-shaped bottom. He carefully gauges the distance before sending it spinning into the other flock. If he gets the angle right, the explosion will blast upward into he crows, leaving his allies unharmed.
Oomph! Ow! Arr!
The half-elf moves out of the murder, clutching a belly with one arm.
Shackleton: 6*
Lyra: 3*
Philgor: 3*
Argus: 14
Lisbet: 13
Antagonist: 7
Lisbet and Lyra retreat as Shackleton and Philgor advance on the massed birds, the big human's blade cutting through several bodies as he hacks away, though they mostly avoid the shorter gnome.
Argus' bomb detonates harmlessly where Shackleton had been standing moments earlier, and the birds descend on Philgor, pecking and clawing at him.
Philgor franticly swings his polearm around but cannot make solid contact. He drops his weapon in an attempt to cover his eyes but it is to late to stop the birds from raking them. He screams out in frustration as he is engulfed by the swarm.
Shackleton sets his jaw, swiping a single crow out of the air but having little effect on the flock itself. "Bother and confusticate these druids." he grunts.
Lisbet tries her best to get the blood out of her eyes.
"Go. Find the half-orc!"
Lyra launches eagles to scout. She herself moves toward the road looking for another eagle.
Shackleton: 6*
Lyra: 3*
Philgor: 3*
Argus: 14
Lisbet: 13
Antagonist: 7
As Shackleton slams one of the birds, the ravens descend on him , ignoring Philgor, who retreats from the fray, blinded like Lisbet.
Argus throws another bomb, again missing as he tries to avoid his companions, while Lyra launches an eagle to scout.
Ravens: 11
"What is your sister's game? These diversions aren't going to take us out & even the steaders will only find this an inconvenience. Is she trying to keep us from something else?" Lyra moves farther from the house, looking for the murder's caller.
,
Argus fumbles another bomb.
"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."
Batting ineffectually at the swarm once more, Shackleton will move to Argus' side. "I daresay I could use a little more firepower. What say you share some of that there potassium nitrate around, eh?"