"An outstanding plan," the cartographer wholeheartedly responds. "Are you going to work your way South or are you planning to escort the caravan to the south, then work your way back North? he asks. He pauses to drink his hot chicory coffee. "Do try the honey butter, it's quite scrumptious." As he slathers a heaping load on hot muffin.
Argrim shrugs at Featherton's question and tries the honey butter, "This is tasty butter!" he says and asks, "sticking with my mineshaft metaphor, we should go North to South. However, are there any benefits to go South to North?"
"I think we should scout ahead of the caravan. Meanwhile, we can be looking for new settlements and gathering information from them. And..."
Nib draws circles with his forefinger in the map.
"We should spent some time around here... since it is... an strategic position, and we could gather some useful information from there."
Ah food! You’re a good gnome, Walter. Digging in with gusto in the knowledge that the days ahead would be long, Varl takes the opportunity to eat as much as possible, eating a prodigious amount he would likely later regret. Aye, da Coast Road seems like a fine place to start. Since the attacks on the Caravans have happened along them, I think that’s a good place for us to check first. I also heard some rumors around town this morning you guys might be interested in. Apparently there are Three old crones are said to live along the coast, and for a price of gold and blood, they can let you see into the past and future. I also heard there is supposedly a monster immune to everything on the first level of Rappan Athuk. It is amorphous, and smells terrible. Everyone who has ever encountered it has fled or died.
He shrugs, "Do you want 10 silver or 1 gold piece? It's all the same to me." He drinks some more coffee, "Suppose beginning North gives you quicker access to the Fentonville for resupplying early on."
"Ah, you are such a generous host and employer, Walter Featherton. I an truly glad to have met your acquaintaince." Karnog once again fills a platter with an inordinate amount of food, breakfast meats, rolls, and plenty of the fancy butter.
"As far as where to start and how to travel, I am not much concerned with all that exactly. After all, we are intending on mapping out the whole unexplored region, yes? A spiral pattern may be most efficient for finding lost folks, but a top-to-bottom grid seems most logical for map making."
All his words are offered in between bites of food and sips of coffee.
"And it's not like we are without the means to handle ourselves, no? Between my magic and steel, the lads' brawn, Lady Vatilda and Kalim's spells, not to mention Nib's expertise, I believe we should stand in good stead out amongst the wilds. Just don't be expecting us to move all that quickly."
The last comment is offered with a wry smile.
Karnog raises his glass, "To the Short Swords, and a successful venture!"
In dwarven:
"To the Short Swords, wise one!"
Argrim raises his tankard of honey mead at the toast.
To Featherton, he replies with a grin, "I would take the gold piece. It weighs less." His appetite was slaked awhile back. The food he consumes now is pure enjoyment now. He's beyond ready to go.
"Caravan leaves soon, anyone need any last minute items?"
"Oh, oh... I want some chalk... and maybe a lump of coal!"
Argrim arches an eyebrow and seems to think that he knows what Nib wants, "I'm sure they have sacks of flour in the kitchen, if that'll suit you?"
"I'm sure they have sacks of flour in the kitchen, if that'll suit you?"
"Oh no no no... flour is too much... dusty. It would form a mess in my luggage and it's not a great marker if you are in a pinch. I rather want some chalk or coal, if you don't mind."
Flour? Bah why would ya need something like that? Planning on cooking dinner for us? Har Har Har! Like a whale breaching the surface, Varl pushes himself away from the table and rubs the back of his hand across his mouth and beard, clearing away any remnants from his glorious battle. I don't need anything else. I'm ready to go now. And personally, I say we start from the down and work our way out along da road.
I vote fer securin' the road! The gold piece is indeed lighter than the silver! Raising a mug Rammellorn exclaims here's to the Walter Featherton! Gracious host and employer![/b] After taking a swig, he toasts the the group. And to the short swords!!! May our efforts be fruitful!
Brothers! Let's show em the might o' da dwarves. Bt Torag's hand!
"I can think of a few uses for charcoal and chalk. Most of them involve marking things so as to prevent...accidents. I would wager Nib shares at least some of my thoughts there. Either way, I too am ready to head out. This caravan should save us some walking at least."
Kalim here are the rumors you've picked up, I'll make on of the numbers an 18:
Some of the tunnels dug by giant rats lead to interesting places.
A wise man uses the rivers to travel in this place. They are dangerous though. Many men who did not know the correct paths have drowned.
Nib there is a general store where you can buy charcoal and/or chalk easy enough.
The caravan consists of 10 wagons, with space to ride in a wagon. There are 25 wagoners and labors, along with 6 riding guards. There are a string of extra horses and few ponies tied off. You are introduced to the merchant, who is happy to have the extra arms along even if it's for only part of the way. You are offered to either ride is some of the wagons, or on ponies, or light horses.
I never did learn my way around a horse. I'll take the wagon. Varl announces climbing up onto the side of one. Before he does though, he makes sure to properly introduce himself to the caravan master and thank him for his hospitality.
There are a few chuckles at Varl's comment.
I'll take a pony if possible. I have more in common with the hammer, but I have been on the beasts before. Donkeys ...now that's another matter.
Rammellorn proclaims with some degree of confidence.
Argrim asks about the pace, because he prefers to walk. If he can't keep up, he'll sit in a wagon.
"A wise man uses the rivers to travel in this place. They are dangerous though. Many men who did not know the correct paths have drowned. As for me, I will use a horse for now."
Cousin Varl, I believe I will join you on that wagon. No sense tiring your feet needlessly, eh? With that, Karnog hauls his bulk up onto the wagon's riding boards and plops down.
"You wouldn't happen to have any pipe tobacco, eh? I like to indulge from time to time, especially on the outset of an expedition."
Best ride for a while master dwarf the caravan master advises. These are good teams of animals. Best keep you fresh too in case we encounter something." The caravan then proceeds onward. The road is well traveled, and you do see one patrol coming towards Fentonville, on that first day. The caravan is about a half day out from the northern end of the territory when it sets camp.
The caravan master will inquire, "When will you be leaving us? He appears a bit nervous when he asks."
A few of the guards and folks on the caravan will share their tales with you. They sum up to be:
As the great mage Speigle said, “Beware of purple worms.” A wise man heeds his advice.
Some of the tunnels dug by the giant rats of the complex lead to interesting places. Some lead nowhere.
Many a doom has befell the fella wearing heavy armor.
Some passages are so tight ye need to strip down to ye skivvies to get through.
One hot, sticky summer a score of years ago, a terrible beast came out of the wilderness and fell upon the surrounding lands, razing towns and ravaging farms. It killed many of the finest warriors and baffled the most potent wizardries before finally being slain by the adventurer Mailliw Catspar and his comrades. Triumphant, these brave souls tracked it
back to the Dungeon of Graves—and were never seen again.
Vatilda is more than happy to ride in one of the wagons. She watches the landscape, deep in thought for the most part, but also taking note of landmarks along the way. She adds anything interesting she hears regarding the areas they are to cover to her book as they travel and by the fire. When they make camp she offers to help on first watch.
She responds to the caravan master. "I believe we are riding with you to the south end of the coastal road, then working our way north back to Fentonville."
Argrim thanks the caravan master for the ride and asks about the watch schedule. Argrim napped some of the way and would be happy to keep watch, especially in the darkest hours when his Darkvision would be most useful.
Ah hells! Ah new I forgot something Karnog. Varl mutters patting down the pockets of his pack looking for his smoking pipe and tobacco. Bah! I'll have da get more when we get back. Shame, not much better after a long day. Then from where he is sitting on the edge of the wagon, Varl raises his voice towards the Caravan Master. Ya seem nervous, anything we should know? We were planning to scout out da road. I be leaving to da others to decide where we got off at.
No worries. We can always pick up some when we come back to town."
Speaking up so most of the caravan can hear, "If we get attacked, try to stay relatively close to me at the start. I have a blessings from the Great Creator that will help protect you for a short time. I can also heal you if you do get injured."
"Always nervous on this part of journey." He sits down and pull out a pouch of his Misty Ale tobacco, packing his pipe full. He notices the dwarves eyes on his pouch...then tosses it to Karnog first.
"Heard from another caravan master back before we left a group of hobgoblins been real active about 2 days south of here just over the bridge." He begins to chew on his nubby finger nails. He looks over toward he merchant, "cheap bastard didn't want to hire more swords, you all are sort of blessing for him. Don't think your employer charged him. Think he felt bad for us." It looks like he has spent a lot of time chewing on his nails.
Hobgoblin, eh? Almost as bad as the little baby-killing freaks."
Karnog spits in the dirt as he imagines goblins attacking the caravan. He nods in appreciation for the tobacco.
"Thank you kindly. Not to worry, lad. Any goblins fool enough to assault us will feel the strength of dwarven steel right enough."
He passes the bag over to Varl.
Dwarven:
"I am prepared for that ...and worse."
The caravan master gets up and starts to organize the watch shifts, "We are taking three shifts, four people per shift" he calls out to the crew.
"I shall help with the first watch. I feel it is only fair."
"I'll take whichever watch you'd like, caravan master. I recommend at least one dwarf on each one, for best division of ability to see in the dark."
The camp starts to settle for the evening and the watches begin.
I can take any shift. One's just as good as the next to me.
Rammellorn mentions with some enthusiasm. Perhaps there will be a bandit or two who be needin' a new vocation.
"Perhaps you dwarves have ...interesting tales of delving deep underground. Are there any you could share? I find myself ...fascinated."
Vatilda wades through the hubbub of dwarves and others settling in, and not noticing Rammellorn, addresses Kalim... .
"I think they are all 'sacking out'. I am taking the first watch with you. I have not spoken with you much yet, Kalim. I understand you are a practicer of the arcane arts. Did you study for this?"
"No. My family was far from wealthy, and as a child, I had no innate desire to know of magic. But in recent times ...things have been revealed to me. I am ...curious. And you?"
Vatilda looks uncomfortable for a moment, and apologizes for the pause. "Sorry. I really don't know. All I can say is, I have always always been different. I have some abilities which I believe were inherited, some came through meditation during my time with the druids of Crystalhurst... Any idea what that smell is?" Vatilda turns and notices Rammellorn. "Oh! I didn't mean you... it's an odd burning smell."
"I'm afraid I haven't much of a sense of smell. But I understand being ...different. At least, I am beginning to."
You'll get used to it, m'lady Rammellorn responds with a bit of sarcasm, but mostly crass. Let's keep our eyes peeled so th' others can rest.
You'll get used to it, m'lady Rammellorn responds with a bit of sarcasm, but mostly crass. Let's keep our eyes peeled so th' others can rest.
The other guard on duty approaches you, "Y'all smell 'dat?"
The remaining members of the caravan including those companions not on duty, are asleep. It is in the last our of your three hour watch.