"Well Bastian things are so grim I reckon only silly songs and tails will keep our spirits up. 'The Captain's Wife's Lament'? 'Do virgin's taste better?'-""-what it's a song about a dragon... who eats virgins."
A wide swath of stumps separates the logging camp from the edge of the forest.
You pass several teams of sweating, cussing lumberjacks, only some of whom bother to look up and watch your passing.
"We'll march straight north until we reach the water's edge," Milon announces. "We'll skirt the lake shore until we reach the point where the Taggorret River empties into the lake from down in the mountains. We can make camp there, with water protecting us on two sides. Come morning, the Elder Tree will not be far."
Milon leads you along an overgrown deer trail.
The forest thickens as the party marches on, entering the regions where fewer lumberjacks have yet ventured in search of valuable darkwood trees.
Less sunlight filters through as the canopy above grows denser.
If you don't quickly point it out, someone from the party may fall in.
"Stop!" He yelled at the party. "Pit trap ahead. Look, over there. Hunters use these to catch game. Could have really hurt one of us. Watch your steps in the dark. No telling what we might walk into."
The camp foreman appears placated. With a dismissive wave of his hand, and a growing blush on his face, he sends Milon and the party on their way.
"You played to Trookshavits' desire to impress Kreed. Good job, minstrel. And he never could stand up to you, Jana," Milon says with a smile. "Let's get going."
Joane replies to Milo
"Trookshavits desire to impress Kreed maybe his own undoing."Joane now with a slight blush adds
"And aren't you also one of the ones that have a hard time standing up to me, Milon."
"Well Bastian things are so grim I reckon only silly songs and tails will keep our spirits up. 'The Captain's Wife's Lament'? 'Do virgin's taste better?'-""-what it's a song about a dragon... who eats virgins."
Bastian shakes his head at Inconnu's antics, "You know I keep the silly songs to the taverns." He instead starts to quietly sing a much different song than those Inconnu recommended. One he knows tends to make Inconnu tear up, a Varisian song of a wanderer bereft of his family.
At the sudden exclamation from Ulark, Bastian's voice falters and he halts his steps. Peering ahead to try and see the pitfall Ulark points out, "Why would they place it in the middle of the trail?"
"I recognize this work," Milon says, kneeling at the pit's edge and squinting at the dead rabbit laid as bait atop the flimsy layer of sticks and leaves.
"This is the Knifetongue Brothers' doing. They're the only ones who'd leave traps like this where loggers might come through."
"With a dead rabbit as bait, what are they hopping to attract, hungry loggers or wolves." He shakes his head. "Who're they warming the bed of to get away with setting up traps like this."
"The Knifetongues set traps for anything they can skin and eat. If they catch a logger, it just means they can rob 'em, too. This rabbit's fresh. They could still be in the area. Best to keep extra alert." Milon says.
"Wait aren't they those two Hobgoblins, Grung and Frosk? The way I heard it they're deserters from the Goblinblood War. If rumours are to be believed they mostly stick to the northern woods but sneak into the Rouge Lady from time to time. I even heard one wild conspiracy theory there's actually three brothers and he's easily confused for either Grung or Frosk." Inconnu clearly begins paying more attention to the treeline and the shadows all around them.
"The Knifetongues are a pain in the neck for farmers as well, as they sometimes raids the farms for food when they have a rough time.
And I've seem them once when they tried to raid my farm, they did not like what they started.
As I managed to injury one of them as they ran back to the woods with a pithcfork I tossed like a javalin, and it hit him in the a** where he deserved it."
'I've dealt with Hobgoblins before, myself. Vicious bastards but they're no real threat in small numbers. I wouldn't mind warming up on some ill-mannered trappers.'
"As loggers've been moving further into the forest, the Knifetongues've been more indiscriminate with their traps. The Sheriff and the Gavel have both talked about sending a posse after them - probably the first and only time those two have agreed on anything. "
"Anyhow, the Knifetongues use both dead and live bait to lure in Darkmoon wolves, moorsnakes, and travelers. So as we move onward, keep alert for rotting smells or animal cries. Those're signs of traps, same as pits or snares."
"The Sheriff and the Gavel agreeing on something, Now that is a first.
I though Hell would freeze over first before that happened."
"We should ruin any of these traps we come across. We don't want a traveler less keen-eyed than Ulark to meet their end." Bastian suggests, "Do any of you have experience with disarming something like this? I wouldn't want to accidentally fall in, or find out it is even more sinister than it appears, but I will do it if no one else feels comfortable destroying it."
Ulark shook his head. "I've never worked with traps before. I don't even know where to start..." He looked at Bastian, guilty in that he couldn't be of more use.
"I mean it's not exactly too intricate, hurling a big rock at it would make it collapse down, set it off so to speak. We don't have time to fill it up but changing it from an unseen hazard to a seen one is a lot easier to do than carefully disarming it."
"Fair enough," Bastian proceeds to do exactly that, picking up the nearest rock and hurling it into the trap.
The sound of snapping branches echoes briefly through the trees as the rock crashes through the pit's covering.
The sticks, leaves, and the rabbit carcass fall into the pit, releasing an odor of roots and disturbed soil from below.
The roughly dug hole is about fifteen feet deep.
Bastian dusts his hands off on his coat and nods in satisfaction, "Shall we go then?" He continues off down the trail, avoiding the pit.
Dugan watches the rock crash into the pit and then had a sudden thought. 'We could have at least seen if the coney was fresh.' He kicks a pebble into the pit and follows.
Milon leads the group northwards until the trees begin to part, revealing the wide, misty expanse of the Droskmere - the wide lake at the heart of Darkmoon Woods.
Far off to your left, the Darkmoon River flows out from the lake, westward through the forest, towards the River Foam.
On the far side of the lake, you can just barely make out where the narrower Taggoret River feeds into the lake, down from the mountains.
"Hold and be quiet," Milon whispers hoarsely, holding up a palm.
In the still, silent air, a shrill whimpering sound can be heard.
Not far from the edge of the forest-shrouded lake, a fox with large ears and bright orange fur lies bleeding, its hindquarters caught fully in the jaws of a crude iron trap.
"Another Knifetongue trap, no bones about it. At least one of the brothers is probably nearby, waiting to see what takes the bait."
"That's a Firefoot Fennec, I've seen their hides becoming quite popular in Molthune. A lot of people consider them good luck... maybe they'll be right and this on will lead us to a Mister Knifetongue, maybe the forest just a little safer for animals and loggers a like." Inconnu is keep his eyes peeled for one of the Knifetongue brothers and any traps around the fox. He draws his sword and shield... just in case.
Ulark crouched down to help look, but was distracted by the plaintive cries of pain from the beast. At length he said "Perhaps we could help it? Nothing should die such a long and painful death."
His eyes still scanning for the Hobgoblin. "It might bring us some good luck if we save it. But if we don't spot that hobgoblin we'll have bad luck before we have any chance of freeing it. With the water contaminated the last thing the apothecary needs is woodsmen being brought in after running afoul of these traps."
"I agree with Ulark, nothing deserves to suffer."
"So we are agreed then? We have to try and save the fox. If we get to show those Hobgoblins some of their own medicine in the process... well, you won't hear me complaining." Bastian draws his bow and nocks an arrow, holding it at the ready, "I have you covered."
'I can do the freein'. Just come help if those hobgoblins try to skin me.' Dugan begins slowly approaching the fox, trying to show the animal he intends to help.
The fox starts to panic as it sees Dugan approach, and it fitfully strains more against the trap biting into its flanks.
No arrows or spears come flying, at least for now.
Inconnu touches the others still waiting with him on the shoulder, once he has their attention he touches his ear and then points at a stand of tree a ways off from the party.
He then starts moving off in that direction being careful not to make too much noise.
As near as you can tell, someone was watching from hiding but has withdrawn.
Dugan frowns at the fox as it struggles against the trap.
'Calm down now, it's not gonna make it any easier to get you free if you're biting at me.'
Dugan manuevers himself so the trap is as much between the fox and himself as possible and attempts to free the panicked animal.
Dugan's experience in the wilds leaves him familiar with this, a very simple but effective trap.
There is no complex release for the device, but sufficient strength can pry open its iron jaws to release the fox.
Dugan carefully reaches his hands in and attempts to pry open the trap.
The pitiful creature offers no resistance and holds frightfully still as Dugan clutches at the trap.
The metal hinge groans as Dugan easily pries it open.
The fox limps out to freedom and flops onto the pebbly soil at the lakeside, licking gingerly at its bloody wound.
'Poor little fella, let's see if one of my friends can't fix ya up.' Dugan reaches slowly out for the fox in an attempt to gently pick it up.
The dwarf begins to make his way back to where his companions wait.
Inconnu will try to follow in the direction he thinks the person who was hiding went, hoping to catch a glimpse of them.
The fox releases the tension from its weakened muscles, and it leans into Dugan's chest, offering no struggle.
It begins to feebly purr against his armor.
Inconnu espies two distant humanoid figures receding into the thickening forest, forgoing stealth for speed in order to put more distance between themselves and the party.
"The Knifetongues probably figured we had the advantage and decided not to attack," Milon says, stroking the stubble on his chin. "I worry about when they might come back for us, though."
"I'm willing to be your right, Milon."
"We will have to keep an eye out for them then and make sure they regret any attempt." Despite the sight of the Hobgoblins fleeing, Bastian keeps his bow out. "Shall we continue onward?" He nods at Milon to lead the way.
"That is...less than ideal. How long until they decide to start ambushing lone woodsmen? We'll have to deal with them eventually."
'At least we were able to save this sweet thing from some hobgoblin stew pot. Can anyone tend to it's wounds? I'm not one for much medicine' He gentle strokes the fox as he speaks.
Ulark shook his head sadly. "If only I could."
"Would, if I naturally could."
"I think I've got some bandages in my pack," Milon says, hefting his backpack by one of its shoulder straps.
"The sunlight is waning. Let's press on to the Taggoret so we can make camp. We can treat the critter as best we can there and keep watch for the Knifetongues."
"A bit of healing magic might do the trick. Just don't bite me." Inconnu moves forward to touch the injured creature gingerly. "We're in need of some luck, if you've any to spare us my new friend I assure you we will not say no."
"I can do a bit more later but I'd rather not just yet in case the Knifetongues come back."
The fox winces at the pulse of positive energy flowing through its body, and it clings more tightly to Dugan.
The magic closes the ragged wounds in its flanks and legs, leaving the blood matting its fur as the only evidence that it was injured at all.
Feeling the pain ebb away, the fox offers a subdued bark of gratitude.
"We should get going as the people don't have time on there side."
"I agree. We will deal with the Knifetongue Brothers as they come, but we have a greater mission to accomplish."