Alia is in a contemplative mood on the way back to camp, not talking much. It wasn't that she had hopes for a different outcome, but it was so sudden. Her kind did things slow. She was just getting used to Ilvah being there, and then all that. It all had happened too fast, and she would need more time to work through all that baggage.
When they arrive in the camp, she joins Illthir in looking for clues - they were missing two of their number, and with the creatures in these wild lands, this was no place for tame horses, either. No matter what a Druids bagger believed.
"I'm not sure. I believe Noah told us to tell his badger he'd return in a season or two - and he had no reason to lie, as he'd know we would expect him first if the horses go missing. Lets look around a bit more. Maybe there's something we can learn, or some tracks or something. Maybe theyjust took the horses down to some nearby source of water so they could drink a bit."
Zokon looks annoyed when he gets back to camp
"Grrr.. damn horses woulda been a nice change of pace after this trek around. I spose i'll look around see if we are in danger or the horses are trackable."
Durgan rather expected this turn of events. He sighs and looks around for clues or tracks.
"*Yawn!* I needed that ..." Despite the yawn, Illthir felt a lot better. More awake at least. As they gathered their few things she took the opportunity to play a little on her flute by the well and then yell a farewell down it.
"Fare thee well-well-well-well." echos the nymph's reply.
---
Durgan, Zokon and Illthir look about the well-trampled earth and eventually find the horses tracks. They meander for a few minutes through the forest until in the gloom the companions find the small herd of mounts sleeping upon a small wooded hillside.
Back at camp the remaining companions inspect their tents for damage but aside from a sense of use they find none.
"Oh!" Illthir's mood rose to a level it quite hadn't seen this last day and a half. At least Walker was okay! "Thank the gods. And possibly the badgers." she quipped with a small smile. Now if only Erevenywg (and possibly a fully stocked tavern) could be found behind the next tree.
At the sight of the horses "Whew"
He helps wake them and get them back to the campsite
"I hope we still have time to get back, we have some titles to be invested in."
Zokon moves with a purpose helping those that need it, in an apparent eagerness to get going.
Walker half-tramples Illthir in his excitement at seeing her again.
Of Erevenywg there is no sign, aside from her meager pack of belongings.
Durgan is pleasantly surprised by this turn of events.
"I suppose we must thank this druid if we see him again.
He took such offense at the idea of the badger being his that I feared he would be similarly resentful at the horses being ours. I thought he would seek to 'liberate' them. I was wrong."
Durgan shares Zokon's sense of urgency.
"Let us ride for Restov."
"Well, they were kinda free. Just didn't go so far!" Illthir wiggles and hops to make sure she just stays half-trampled. Once Walker - or Stepper as she was fairly sure his True Name was - had calmed down she gave him a hug and a good long rub behind the ears.
"I hope he can find Erevenywg for us too ... Faries are supposed to be at home in the forest, but she's a bit of a klutz. And it doesn't feel good to leave any person behind ... Should we take her belongings with us? Or leave them here with a note?" The skald tried to recall if the fey could read or not. Maybe a pictogram?
Hmm. Its suspicious. That said, bring what she had. It could prove enlightening. Fergus answers simply and pragmatically as he prepares his things for the trip.
After a long evening march, in the dead of night the companions make their way south to through the Gronzi Forest toward the Brunderton ferry across the Stetven River and thence across the green rolling Rostland plains to the city of Restov.
"Time is tight, and our mission to the Stolen Lands may end in dismal failure if we cannot reach Restov soon.
Illthir, does your Song of Marching work on animals, or must they understand the language?
If it would not work on them, we must do forced marches every day and heal the injuries to the horses at night."
"...I'll make work." The skald didn't want to admit that, for the magic, the actual words had little meaning. It would cheapen her profession a little! But horses were usually good listeners - no hands to throw things with - so this should work out splendidly! She scratched Walker behind the ear. "Much better idea then injuring our horses, especially when we owe a druid a favour."
Forced March
In a day of normal walking, a character walks for 8 hours. The rest of the daylight time is spent making and breaking camp, resting, and eating.A character can walk for more than 8 hours in a day by making a forced march. For each hour of marching beyond 8 hours, a Constitution check (DC 10, +2 per extra hour) is required. If the check fails, the character takes 1d6 points of nonlethal damage. A character who takes any nonlethal damage from a forced march becomes fatigued. Eliminating the nonlethal damage also eliminates the fatigue. It’s possible for a character to march into unconsciousness by pushing himself too hard.
Mounted Movement
A mount bearing a rider can move at a hustle. The damage it takes when doing so, however, is lethal damage, not nonlethal damage. The creature can also be ridden in a forced march, but its Constitution checks automatically fail, and the damage it takes is lethal damage. Mounts also become fatigued when they take any damage from hustling or forced marches.
"Since we can move quickly with your Song of Marching, then we should not need to do a forced march. Let's see how much ground we can cover today."
Under the sound of the bard's martial percussion music the party makes haste toward Restov. The only down side being that they will never truly get the slightly maddening tune out of their heads.
"Let's put in a bit of effort now and get there, if we are going to do good deeds, well the marching is what we need to make up the time, let's go brave heroes." and he starts off on the correct path
"I agree, Zokon."
"Should we open this chest some evening when we are camping?"
After more a month and a half mostly spent in the wilds of the haunted forested foothills of the Icerime Peaks the party arrives at the splendid country estate of Ser Richard Iannuchi, an Aldori Swordlord and the right hand of the powerful Mayor of Restov, Ioseph Sellenius, who had assembled and backed the various expeditions into the Stolen Land.
Pleasant hills and rough heath give way to ordered hedgerows, raised earthen paths and farms around a broad low hill upon which sits the great gated manor of Ser Richard Iannuchi Aldori.
Passing scores little well-tended gardens bursting with spring flowers, and trees in full bloom the mostly-bedraggled party arrives at the impressive front gates set in a colorful brick wall.
There is bell set into a decorative peaked wooden housing just to its side.
Durgan will take some time to get himself presentable. He will comb his beard and make sure his clothes are clean. (I imagine we do not go to a party in armor.)
"Illthir, can you help with a bit of Prestidigitation?"
What more might Durgan know about Ser Richard Iannuchi?
"Certainly." Illthir takes a few moments to work a Prestidigitation spell. She'll make sure to enjoy this more friendly layout of nature as she works over the party. And keep an eye on Walter and the other horses, make sure they don't nibble anything from the tended gardens at least!
"Yes please do, lets at least not be completely gross when we get there, a certain level of untidiness is to be expected, we have had such adventures." he winks at Illthir and grabs Alia by the Arms, in a gentlemanly fashion "Lady Alia, please accompany me to this nobles presense, make me look respectable."
---Some evening on the road---
Illthir sits down with Fergus and the chest. "Magic should be able to open this. Just need a little coaxing, like so..." The skald's magic wasn't as organized as pure wizardry, but she did enjoy seeing both at work.
---Present Time!---
"Mm. And avoid stepping on any sore or pompous toes..." the skald joins Durgan in trying to recall useful bits of lore about the family.
Alia is still in an ill mood for days after they hounded down Ilvah.
She keeps to herself and doesn't talk much on the way towards Restov, but makes sure to do her chores timely and efficiently.
Not only had they 'lost' Ilvah, but two more of their number had gone missing, and they had no time to spend looking for them. As much as she tried to avoid the Fey, her presence had been a staple for what felt like forever.
Regardless, after a few days of brooding, she forces herself to be more light-hearted again. As they approach the Residence, she already begins to makes sure she is spotless well away from the door.
When Zokon asks her to make him presentable, she takes a step back, looks at him, then closes the top button of his shirt, stating "Perfect." before playfully turning towards the bell. Giggling a moment, she turns back to Zokon and actually fulfills his request, using her magic to make him look as respectable as is possible under the circumstances.
Illthir innocently hums a children's rhyme about people sitting in trees ...
Serena accepts the magical makeover and smiles at the result. "Thank you, Illthir."
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Zokon does the loot dance and looks over the contents of the chest
The gates continue to remain not ajar.
Durgan will ring the bell.
The bell sounds unusually loud in the spring air.
The gates open quietly and a dark, hunched figure appears from around it holding a quill, and a small board with a bit of scrollwork pinned to it.
"Nameth?"
The scarred man eyes the gates suspiciously, rocking the door slightly back and forth his asymmetrical head cocked to one side listening, but the only sounds around are the birds and breeze. He frowns and looks back at the party.
"Tho, your nameth. I need to thee if they are on the litht if you are to enter."
This fellow looks quite familiar...
"I am Durgan Far-Walker, priest of Abadar."
The man looks back from wiggling the silent door on its hinges, and back to his list sheets.
After a moment's search he smiles horribly. "Oh! A guetht!" he makes a little mark on the sheet with his quill. "We have arranged guetht accommodathionth for you, while the latht few preparathionth are made for your thummit*."
"Illthir Winlowe, we are the company of Zokon Santyev." The skald knew enough about how things go to put the noble up front and center.
"Illthir Winlowe, we are the company of Zokon Santyev."
*Blink*
"Whatever." says the servant. He adds a few random checks to one of the sheets. "Come, Mathterth. Walk thith way."
He heads off at a stiff trundle, heading presumably to your accomidations.
As you shuffle along the manicured grounds of the estate there is buzz of activity. A dozen or more peasants work the abundant flower beds. Various wagons and a few coaches with heraldry dot the path leading to the stables.
A bath! Illthir grins as they are lead into civilization. Hopefully political intrigue and such could wait a little while. She wanted a few days before she missed the wildness!
Alia had wanted to let Zokon introduce himself first, and had waited, then was flabbergasted when Illthir did the introduction and the butler seemed to be entirely satisfied with that.
To be fair, they HAD stood there for what seemed an eternity without talking to the poor man, everybody waiting for someone else to speak up.
Alia notes the manicured grounds and flower beds and does her best to hide her distain. The way they tried to force nature to comply with their demands was so inefficient, so short-lived and work-intense, only to satisfy their idea of aesthetics.
All the same, they had some ideas right. One glance at Illthir suggested that they were both looking forward to the same thing - a proper bath.
And while the preparation of food left nothing to be desired, the variety of ingredients and modes of preparation would be much better here.
Lost in thought, she followed the Igor, only glancing up once or twice to see if any of the heraldry seemed familiar.
Zokon wakes from his stunned stupor at the greeters mannerisms
"Yes I am Zokon Santyev of the Medvyed family, please guide us."
Serena follows the others, puzzling at the butler's acceptance of them. It wasn't that she hadn't expected to get in, but so easily and without much question...
Zokon wakes from his stunned stupor at the greeters mannerisms
"Yes I am Zokon Santyev of the Medvyed family, please guide us."
The servant pauses.
"Of courthe you are Mathter." he says reassuringly. "Follow me and I thall thow you to your accomidathionth."He pauses again, produces a handkerchief and dabs Zokon with it. When he is done, he draws close to Zokon and confidentially tells him "You are favored Mathter. You and your companionth have roomth in the main houthe. Your hortheth will be thtabled in the thmall thable over there."
Then the curious servant dabs his damp hanky at Zokon again.
Meanwhile, stable hands are already walking the horses through the gates and over to the two-story barn in the manor's bailey.
"It's nice not to have to worry about being late. That could have been a near thing if not for Illthir's magic. Thank you, Illthir."
Durgan recalls meeting a very similar butler at Lady Luljeta Vsevolod's estate.
"Have any other clergy of Abadar arrived yet?"
"Ahah no worries." Illthir blushes. While it wasn't quite the heroics she dreamed of, praise was always nice for the ego. Plus she'd have to share some of the glory with their horses - otherwise their druid acquaintance might give her an earful the next time they met.
She glances towards the stable boys and recalls what/if the appropriate tip for them would be. And offers it at a generous markup. Wouldn't hurt to make sure they were treated well too! "Please watch your toes around Walker. I'll double this if they're all happy when we leave!"
"It's nice to be back in civilization again. Let's hope it all goes civilly!" she quips once they're inside, making some small talk.
"Have any other clergy of Abadar arrived yet?"
"No Mathter, not to my knowledge, though Mother Vortht of Our Lady of Mythterieth and Lady Thandralane, a clergywoman from foreign partth, are both in attendanthe. They are thtaying in the village. The lodge houthe hath been retherved for the ecthplorerth and their partieth."
The party is lead up to the house past a few wagons around which several workman move construction material about. They move past more gardens and into the house under a front portico festooned with more spring flowers. The stylish hall is filled with even more picked flora. The hall itself is three stories tall and well-appointed, but the thick, musky scent of flowers makes it feel enclosed like a hot house. Igor leads the party past other servants in the midst of their preparations and up a metal spiral stair to the second floor balcony and from there down the hall to the south.
"Thith hall hath been retherved for you Mathter, and there is a bath houthe we pathed on the way here if you withh to clean. If thith ith all well, I will have the thervantth bring your thingth up. Ser Richard thhall be by to greet you later thith evening after dinner."
Durgan will take any of the rooms - he will let the others choose first.
"Zokon, Alia, perhaps there is a suitable grove on the Lord Mayor's estate in Restov. It could show respect to Elven ways, but be welcoming to the Brevoy nobility.
The Lord Mayor of Restov is our primary patron, is he not? Having the wedding on his estate would be a symbol of his support for this union."
"Zokon, Alia, if you recall, I had an idea back at Stoneclimb about asking the Lord Mayor if we could have the wedding at his estate. Would you want to make such inquiries, or tour the grounds to look for a suitable grove?"