As Ulark unties the twine and opens the sack, an iron goblet leaps out and lunges at him.
The villainous vessel attempts to crack his jaw with its heavy base, almost like a kick, but Ulark leans back and the attack misses.
As the enchanted goblet hops around the riverbank, Dugan and Inconnu swing at the tiny object.
The earthbreaker slams into the goblet and knocks it around, though leaving only a slight dent.
Inconnu's sword fails to even scratch the metallic surface.
Inconnu starts inspiring the others with his bardic perfornace...
Ulark lifted his axe, and thought to himself I will not he made a fool of by silverware!. He brought his axe down upon it...
"What the heck."
Joanne punches it
Dugan brings his hammer around for another blow, seething with anger at the small, floating cup.
Ulark's axe lands true upon the goblet's crown and nearly cleaves the iron vessel in twain.
Barely left joined at the base, the halves of the goblet flop briefly on the riverbank like a hooked fish before one last contortion leaves it inanimately still once again.
Thankfully, none of the other looted items in the sack appear to animate.
They include two more goblets matching the one just "slain" - forged from iron and set with reddish-orange gemstones - as well as a pair of iron candlesticks and a platter made of beaten copper.
"Of all the dangers I imagined encountering while traveling with you folks," Milon says, "This was certainly not one of them. Reckon that devilish cup is what brained this fellow?"
Inconnu pokes one of the remaining goblets with the tip of his sword. "Let this be a lesson to the rest of ye."
As Dugan shoulders the adventurer's remains and Milon shoulders the spoils that cost his life, the party continues onward.
Milon guides the party westward, following the ancient, weed-choked road as it skirts the river.
You press on into dusk, and before it grows too dark to travel, you manage to reach the junction of the two rivers.
The Darkmoon empties into the stronger current of the River Foam that divides the woods from the plains to the south.
A more well traveled road runs alongside this bank of the Foam, crossing the Darkmoon with a wooden bridge built atop the stone foundations of a long-since fallen dwarf construction.
"The Gold Falls lies that way," Milon explains, pointing down the road's northwest course. He then turns and points to the southeast.
"Across this bridge, the road will take us directly back to town, and from here it passes only through cleared land. Rather than suspicious priests and vengeful cups, only farmsteads await along our path, now."
As night falls, however, Milon recommends making camp here at the crossroads where travelers and merchants are far more common than beasts and monsters.
Inconnu agrees, though part of him wishes to press on the day has been long and they need their rest.
"Ah, but we are so close? Can we not just push through the night? People are depending on us. We can sleep all we want tomorrow."
Milon looks to the purple-streaked sky.
"It is a clear road ahead, but a long one. There is another 20 miles between us and the Hollow.
"Granted, my nephew's life is well worth a little exhaustion, but there's still the matter of light. I don't know about all of you, but I cannot see in the dark."
Joanne replies
"Three of us likely can see in the darkness, and if we have someone whom can make light then it should be less of an issue to travel."
'Either is fine by me, The people in town would probably rather we get there sooner than later.'
Inconnu sighed, the person he was worried about wasn't sick, not yet at least... but mention of Milon's nephew roused him, if it was one of his kin he wouldn't want to wait. Slinging his shield onto his arm from his back he touches it and it glows with light.
"Just don't expect me to be cheery about it. I'm still weak after that up jumped serpent."
Milon keeps close to Inconnu as his shield lights the way for them.
The forced march through the deepening dark of night visits exhaustion on the party unlike any you have known before.
Each hour takes a toll on your feet and backs, and your limbs feel like lead.
Eventually, the only thing that saves you from collapsing is the silhouettes of the town's buildings looming ahead in the dead of night.
Some lights flicker down by the docks and upon the Perch overlooking the town, but otherwise Falcon's Hollow remains dark.
Reaching the edge of town, Inconnu hits his body's limit. He drops his shield and pack and slumps to the ground, leaning against a fence post.
He is certain that even one more step will leave him unconscious.
Ulark has a little strength left, but even Joanne, Dugan, and Milon feel that their stamina nears the end.
Thankfully, they manage to drag themselves to the door of Roots and Remedies.
Almost collapsing as they came through the door, the sweat covered half-orc leaned on his axe. He had been using it at as walking stick for the past few miles. He smiled weakly.
”We...eugh. We are back! Gods...I need to sit down.”
Dugan sets the litter carrying the dead man's body down at the door to the herbalist's shop and sits on the corpse's chest. Bringing his waterskin to his mouth, the dwarf sucks briefly, then scowls and grumpily shoves the empty container back into his pack.
'You think the ale back at the tavern is still safe to drink? I'd hate to think that I'd have to wait for a whole new batch to be brewed.' Dugan waits out front while his companions drops off the ingredients.
Inconnu fails to respond to Dugan's inquiry having sacrificed his pride for an expedient journey he now pays the price as he lies down beside the door for just one moment...
Inconnu's eyes dart open and he sluggishly reaches out and casts cure light wounds on Dugan before falling asleep.
"Finally we're back, I can take a bath then fall a sleep."
Ulark manages the strength to pound his fist on the door as he calls out to rouse the herbalist.
The disturbance wakes the raggedy cat sleeping in the window box above, and its yowl seems to aid in summoning Laurel.
The window bursts open, sending the cat clambering up the clinging ivy onto the roof, and Laurel's severe face looks down.
Her face is without her spectacles, but she's pulled her hair back in a quick, messy ponytail.
"Oh thank Desna, I thought the line was forming again. I only just got the last of the rabble to go home for the night."
She disappears from the window without closing it, allowing the cat to climb back down and sneak inside.
Even from outside, you can hear her footsteps tromping down the stairs. Only a moment later, the front door is unlatched and she hustles you inside.
"That was the first rest I've gotten since you left, so you'd better have brought all the ingredients for the cure."
Although the herbalist remains abrasive and impatient, Joanne can clearly tell that Laurel's worsening attitude stems from how harried she has been trying to treat the sick in your absence.
Barely standing, Ulark nodded. ”Here, take it. All that you asked for, we came as soon as we could.”
"Great," Laurel says brusquely as she snatches up the ingredients.
She immediately runs behind her shop counter to her workspace, where many bottles, beakers, bundles, and other bric-a-brac are still left out from her last marathon session of mixing teas and tinctures.
"You made good time," she says, not looking up from her work. "I don't know how many people have come down with the Blackscour - maybe four dozen more since you left - but only six have succumbed that I know of. But, now that we have all the ingredients that old Gran wrote about, the rest can be saved."
She shuffles around through some bins, grabs her grandmother's book, and squints at everything for a bit.
Suddenly realizing something, she slaps her palms on the counter and storms back upstairs, muttering loudly in Sylvan all the way.
Laurel returns to work, now wearing her spectacles and with her hair tied in a more professional bun.
Able to understand, but being too tired to care, Ulark turned to the party. ”Good job everyone. We did it. I’m going home and going to sleep. Come on Inconnu, let’s get you into a real bed.”
'What do we want to do about him?' Dugan says, pointing to the dead man beneath his rump.
"Nonsense, they don't exist we hallucinated them... a bit of ground will do fine." He keeps his eyes closed. "I'll get up when we are ready to go."
"I can a understand that all to well, Laurel.
First think I'm doing is a bath, I worked up a sweat then I'll sleep.
If you need help keeping The old LC from budding in line, I don't mind helping, well after I get some sleep."
You have done your part in saving the struggling town, and now its fate lies in Laurel's hands.
Milon lays down the sack beside the adventurer who died for its contents.
He fishes out the copper platter and the iron candlesticks.
"I'll never make it back to the camp or even the nearest cutyard without collapsing. Hopefully Jak will accept a candlestick or two in exchange for a bed and a meal. And hopefully this will be worth a day's lost wages."
He punctuates this by rapping on the platter with his finger, sending a faint, tiny chime echoing through the benighted road outside Roots and Remedies.
"The rest is all yours, obviously. Especially those goblets. I'll stick to wooden and clay mugs, thank you very much. Let's all get some rest now. Gods know, we earned it."
.....
As the sun, unseen, nears the eastern horizon, where do you take your weary bodies?
Joanne waves Milon goodbye as he leaves
"Have a good one Milon,"
She then turns to the group
"I'll be heading home and taking a hot bath as I've worked up a sweat and my shoulders are aching some.
Then a Good long sleep.
Oh right Mina the tailor should be opening soon so I could pick up some new clothes I asked to be made before I get home.
Ah that stupid fruit...wonder if Mr Summers is hiding...."
Inconnu will wearily make his way to the inn, he'd rather go somewhere else but he's too tired. He'll forgo any food at the in in lieu of just heading to be where he'll sleepily chew a few bites of trail rations before going to sleep... these beds were far more comfortable than he had remembered.
'I suppose I'll just see to our friend here myself' Dugan grumbles to himself as his companions wander off to their beds. Dugan stands and hoists the litter bearing the dead man. He begins dragging it through the streets seeking out a church or undertaker.
Bastian, who remained very quiet on the tiring return journey, helps Dugan carry the adventurer's remains.
They hoist him by the shoulders and ankles and take a shortcut behind Roots and Remedies, cutting across the sparse grasses and stunted trees between the buildings lined up along the lazily curving roads.
It takes a few rounds of knocking upon the door to the Temple of Iomedae, but the steely-haired and steely eyed Lady Cirthana soon stands in the entrance, disheveled though no less imposing.
She first wears a look of irritation to be roused at such an hour, but they gives way to brief surprise and finally stern suspicion when she sees the body carried betwixt the odd paid of adventurers.
"What is the meaning of this?" the kirk's priestess demands.
.....
Milon walks with Inconnu south on the road from Roots and Remedies towards Jak'a'Napes for lodging.
The rotund, round-faced Jak Crimmy is already awake - or perhaps he never went to bed - and welcomes the pair with a voice that cannot be distinguished between tired or tipsy.
Milon offers the candlesticks for room and board, which Crimmy accepts with rapidly melting boredom.
"This is fine old dwarven craftsmanship. You don't see this anymore, not for hundreds of years now. Have you traded in the cutyards for risking those old ruins? Careful now. You-know-who doesn't let lumberjacks retire easily."
.....
The path home to the farm fills Joanne with an unexpected store of energy, ensuring she does not collapse on her family's doorstep.
"Jana," her father, Eli, sighs as he tearfully welcomes her back.
He leads her inside, and soon she is doubly proud to have completed her mission as she finds her mother, Evangeline, bedridden and coughing with the onset of the Blackscour.
Joanne tells her father
"Laurel should have the cure ready in the morning, and
we'll need a meeting of the Farmer's alliance about the Redrock guild.
As I found some proof they've been working against members of the the Alliance including it's core of leaders"
Joanne hands her father the note the knifetongues were to get, but not received.
Joanne yawns before she continues
"It's been a long few days, so I'll be taking a hot bath before going to bed.
I'll likely be waking up late due to that forced march home with the ingredients."
She also thinks
"I hope the hot bath helps with my shoulders as they've ached for the past two days.
I just hope I'm not getting any bigger or I'll be needing to order a new set of clothes.
Well, At least Mina should have my new ones ready in the morning."
'Thanks for the hand, Bastian. We'll get him seen to and then ourselves.' Dugan says, huffing slightly. Clearly at the end of his strength.
'We found him on the road between here and Raser Kanton yesterday. He'd been clubbed to death by a cup he'd probably scavenged up in some ruin. We figured the decent thing to do would be to get him buried or burned.' Dugan offers up tiredly. He leans his back against the temple.
"Clubbed to death...by a cup?" The words tumble from Lady Cirthana's mouth haphazardly.
The priestess' indignant tone is briefly broken by genuine confusion, but she quickly regains her immaculate composure.
"No matter. Even if he is merely a looter, I will commend his body to the pyre. If the Inheritor wills it, the flame will purify his soul and he may find redemption in the Great Beyond."
"With residents beginning to succumb to Blackscour Taint, one would think that more people would come before the altar for comfort, redemption, and protection, yet this hallowed hall remains empty."
"One of the Lums - Jud, I believe it was - died of the disease today. I visited their farm as they dug his grave and offered both to help them dig and to bless his passing. They actually chased me away. Tarpeia, their shrewish matron, hurled a rotten cabbage and struck me in the face. By my honor, I can still smell its foulness."
She shakes her head with a steely grimace.
"The accursed Consortium has these people so beaten down that they reject light, honor, and hope itself."
She looks to Bastian and Dugan, as though only now seeing them enter the temple. Her eyes appraise them, pity overtaking her prideful judgment.
"Nevertheless, I must continue to set an example."
She draws her longsword, which she kept at her hip even if she is without her armor. Cirthana grips the silver-filigreed hilt with both hands, aiming the blade to the ground.
She taps the point of her sword to the tiled floor and a burst of light issues forth.
A wave of energy washes over the two adventurers and removes several miles' worth of wear from their muscles.
Although sleep remains a most appealing prospect, Bastian and Dugan no longer feel like they will collapse before reaching their beds.
Dugan hesitates for a moment and thinks of the Iomedeans he's met in his travels. Searching for words he's heard them use he murmers. 'Honor and justice are a bastard of a weight for the right.' He seems unsure of the words but smiles up at the woman.
'A cabbage, huh? Probably would have made a good stew for the sick. Even rotted like that. I heard of some who like it that way.' He says, attempting to lighten the mood, feeling reinvigorated slightly.
After finishing her hot bath Joanne gets ready for bed.
The small house, little more than a large room with a bed, a few chests, and table in it, is soon filled with the sound of Ulark snoring.
The bath is refreshing, and Joanne's bed is more welcome than any other reward she could imagine.
The muscles in her back continue to ache, though. She lies on her front to find any comfort, but the sensation dulls into an itching, tingling sensation that nags her until she falls asleep.
In the morning, she rises to find that the ache has left her but has been replaced by an unfamiliar weight upon her shoulder blades.
.....
Ulark's house was once little more than a shack, wedged between a boarding house on the left and a butcher's shop on the right.
In his spare time, with borrowed tools, he managed some renovations to make the home so liveable - patching holes in the walls, securing the door on its hinges, sealing the leaky roof.
Some of his fellow loggers had warned him that, for his trouble, the Consortium would only increase how much of his pay they kept for housing or simply evict him and give the house to a logger more in the Gavel's favor.
Thankfully, this has not yet come to pass.
.....
Ulark is awoken, earlier than he would like, by a commotion outside.
Even further down the road at Jak'a'Napes where Inconnu took a room, the bard can hear the sounds of angry voices in the street.
Unfortunately, the source seems to be in front of Roots and Remedies.
Joanne gets up to see what the weight on her back is, instead finding that is was still there.
As she turns to see what is on her back she knocks over some of her clothes she stacked on her dresser that were laid out for today.
She then turns her head and sees in her mirror, reddish silver or ruby like wings on her back.
She is confused for a while until recalling that she was adopted.
"Oh, I'm going to need to ask Dad and Mom a few more questions....."
She then tries on her top and finds that the wings are in the way of putting it on,
trying a few more tops before stopping and thinking about which tops she wears for work would work and none did.
"Crap nothing works.....I'll never be able to go outside.... Oh this is worse then the magical fruit Mr Summers gave me.
Time to calm down and think."
Joanne then tries her only cross halter top she generally uses for swimming and finds that it works.
"Thank goodness at least something works with these wings.
Now that I got that settled, I need to think of the impact these are going to have."
After thinking about it, Joanne concludes that it'll be better to hide her wings from the public for now.
But there'd be no way to stop her family from knowing and would actually need her sisters help in doing so.
Joanne goes from her small 5-Room House on the farm to her parents house a good 500ft away.
Joanne looks around for her folks making she she folds her wings when passing through doorways.
She finds out she pretty much slept until noon as her folks were eating lunch when she enters the dinning room.
Joanne carefully extends her wings as she speaks.
"Ah Dad, Mom, is there something you forgot to mention after telling me I was adopted?"
Inconnu's face turns into his blanket with a groan but since the noise isn't going away he starts getting dressed. Damn tree addled fools can't let a man rest in piece. He stops for a moment and picks up the fine blade in it's scabbard they have found he straps it to his waist.
A little groggily he moves towards the front door to see what was going on outside.
Your father gingerly takes you by the arm, avoiding touching your wings, and guides you into an adjoining room.
Eli sighs and offers a few false starts before he finally manages to share the long-kept secret.
"You're our daughter, but not our blood," he manages to explain.
"My old friend Noah, a Pathfinder he was, brought you to us when you were just a babe. Constantly on the road, delving who knows where, Noah was in no position to raise a child, so he asked your mum and me to raise you as our own. And as far as we're concerned, you are our own. Don't forget that."
"As for this," he says, gesturing awkwardly at your wings, "Noah had said you were a blessed child. I didn't think anything of it at the time; 'twas just his useful grand language. I never saw Noah again after that. I always assumed he stumbled upon some relic or discovery that was too much for him."
Rather, there are two crowds assembled and standing in opposition.
The larger group is clearly made of locals who have come to purchase doses of the Blackscour cure, either for themselves or for their loved ones.
The smaller group is headed by Boss Pay Day, making it obvious that the gang of tough-looking men with him are cronies in the Consortium's employ.
You suspect that the gang is peppered with a few thugs from the Redrock Guild, too, for extra muscle.
Joanne calmly replies to her father
"So not much more then the last time we talked.
I was hoping for a new fragment of truth, but I am content with my adoptive family."
Joanne looks back at her wings
"Though I can imagine this would stir up quite the trouble in town especially with the LC.
And they'd likely see me as more of a threat and even more of a rallying point for the people they've cheesed off."
Looking at her father again
"I'm hoping Mina and Lina might be able to do or make something to help me hide my wings for now.
I'm currently thinking of sheaths for wings, and a new loose shirt to cover the sheaths."
"Unfortunately I currently can not go into town to get Mom the medicine or get Mina and Lina without the whole town knowing about my wings.
Though since Noah* is next door it might be best to have him get the medicine and get Mina and Lina...."
"Ladies and gentlemen, I've spent the last few days assailed by draconic beasts, matching wits with beautiful fey and avoiding the lure of undead tricksters to help this town... but now I can't even catch up on my sleep in the morning. What grand matter? I know Laurel is doing the best to prepare the ingredients we retrieved." Inconnu saunters, it was definitely a saunter, towards the arguing groups.
For the first time in a long while, Ulark slept well. His shack was not the most comfortable of homes, but he slept with the soundness of the truly weary. While he often worried about losing his little home to the Consortium, that night he was glad for his efforts, for he truly did need the rest. He had been taking off his boots when he had simply collapsed onto his bed, his snores filling the shack.
Woken by the same racket that Inconnune heard, he made his way outside. Hopping on one foot as he pulled his boot back on, he came just in time to hear Inconnu try to appeal for calm.
"Everyone, calm down! Wait your turn, there will be enough medicine for everyone. Rioting now will just mean that nobody gets anything."
Dugan makes his way back to Jack'a'napes, verifies that the ale has remained untainted and orders 2 flagons, before retiring for the evening.
Hearing the commotion, and unable to get back to sleep, Dugan angrily dons his armor and weapons before making his way to see what the fuss is about.
***Out in the Streets***
"Tha's right. Jus' let us do our job, an' ever'thing'll be fine," barks the pug-faced Payden Teedum.
He has a long-standing grudge with the sheriff. Back when Baleson was still just another poor lumberjack, he refused to pay an “axe tax” on an axe he had bought weeks before. When Pay Day tried to take it, Baleson smashed him in the face with the flat of the axe, leaving the human with a permanently disfigured nose.
Many locals wonder why Pay Day hasn’t outright killed the sheriff yet.
”Not this time, Pay Day,” Sheriff Baleson replies. The half-elf stands imposing and impassive, his gold-flecked eyes staring almost unblinking at Teedum. ”This goes beyond extortion. This is outright theft, and it ain’t happening.”
Several people in the crowd growl and raise their fists in approval with the sheriff’s edict.
”The cure’s Consortium property, an’ we jus’ wan’ make sure it’s properly distributed to our sick workers. So if’n you an’ your witchy woman in there would jus’ cooperate, this don’t have to get ugly.”
Inconnu and Ulark’s words invigorate the crowd, who might otherwise be cowed by Pay Day and his thugs. A few of them step forward to bolster Baleson and his two deputies.
Meanwhile, several of Pay Day’s boys are looking around nervously and beginning to shrink away from their boss.
Dugan catches the last bit from Pay Day over the crowd as he trundles up to the mass. From the back, he shouts. 'Consortium Property? I don't remember a one of your boys out with me and mine gathering the ingredients, I don't remember any of you helping haul it back, and I sure as the Hells don't remember any of you working over that woman's cauldron making any medicine! You and your men get in line BEHIND the women, children, and elderly or you're gonna have worse than a cold to cure.'
But if you're so worried about running out of the cure we can certainly give you direction as to where ye can find some more ingredients." Inconnu moves over to the side with the sheriff and the crowd of villager.
The scene in the street remains tense for a long moment.
Finally, Boss Teedum dismisses the crowd with a sneer and a wave of his hand.
”Fine, fine. But after this bumper crop of sales, you bes’ believe Mista Kreed will be collectin a bigger tax from Miss Laurel this season. An’ she better pay.”
Teedum collects his thugs and they withdraw back towards the Perch, the hill overlooking town where the Consortium offices and the High Market sit.
With the conflict diffused, the crowd quickly reforms its long, rambling line at the door of Roots and Remedies, echoing the scene you found a few days prior when the outbreak first began.
The sheriff leaves behind two of his deputies - loggers who share Baleson’s frustration with the corruption in town - to ensure that no scuffles break out over line jumping.
As he passes, Sheriff Baleson eyes Ulark, Inconnu, and Dugan, and wordlessly offers them a nod before moving along.
After the immediate threat passes. Dugan shoulders his way to the counter in Roots & herbs. He lays his purse on the counter
'For those that can't pay. Nothing for those that tried to beat the line' He turns and walks out, helping to maintain the line in front of the shop.