Eventually you are ushered to stools arrayed around a narrow wooden table within a cramped dining room. The fading orange light of afternoon filters through thick, uneven panes of poorly-cast glass in the windows, creating an effect akin to being underwater.
Baron Wolfshire sits at the head of the table with his son at his right hand. He bids the hunched old woman to serve the meal, ladling steaming stew from a black iron pot. Into your wooden bowls is poured a thick broth filled with chopped onions, potatoes, and chunks of salted mutton. A large loaf of crusty bread, flanked by a dish of lumpy butter, also sits on the table.
"Our guests have agreed to accompany me on another hunt," Bartram announces. "We'll bring back so much game, we'll need to erect a new drying rack."
"Splendid, splendid," the "baron" replies jovially. "I'm sure it would be far more entertaining sport than simply milling about our humble village."
"My thanks for this provender.", says Micheo, before making a prayer to Saranrae and tucking in.
'Happy to fill both our larders a bit.' Dugan says dipping a hunk of heavily buttered bread into the stew until it is thoroughly soaked through.
"We wont be returning mind. Appologies but though the stay has been pleasant we can't be too leisurely, we'll travel with you while you hunt for a time but after a while part ways. With any luck with plenty of game caught for both of us."
"Well, I'm right sorry to hear that," the baron says, although his face betrays that he feels more relief than dismay.
Over the course of dinner and your evening stay at the Wolfshire home, you quietly confirm what you have come to suspect. Zebulon brought his young son out here many years ago and gathered together the people eking out a living on the frontier. Relying on the fact that these folk are poorly educated and largely illiterate, Wolfshire played upon their ignorance of Andoran's abolition of nobility and set himself up as "baron."
The anxiety he harbored was the fear that your arrival would spell the end of his noble lifestyle, or even worse, that you had come specifically to punish him for this deception.
Thus, in the morning, as Bartram gathers together his hunting gear, with his two hounds eagerly circling him, you notice that his father is all the more relieved to see you go.
Inconnu bites his tongue for now, not wanting to entangle them in complications. The 'Baron' could be worse but the situation likely wouldn't stand for much longer. There were greater ills in the world that this man but Micheo might feel bound to deal with this somewhat benign conman. A warning now could set the man to rectify his position and minimise his discomfort later... but as far as Inconnu is concerned it's not a pressing matter.
Micheo makes no gestures really. He focuses deliberately on getting ready to depart.
I can not rush after every petty criminal. There will be time enough to have him face justice.
Groff and Griff alternate between following at their master's heels and scouting ahead as Bartram leads you along the forested hillside overlooking the confluence of the Rivers Foam and Andoshen. He keeps his crossbow hanging at his hip by a shoulder strap. The weapon may have once been a prized hunter's weapon, but its walnut stock is notched and stained with use.
"Did you fellows ever say where you were heading?" he asks. "There isn't much to see out here, but you don't really seem to have the supplies for a long journey."
'Some other god forsaken town.' He looks to his companions for more detail 'Regardless, we like to travel light, live off the land.'
"In the direction of Almas.", Micheo adds.
”If you can live off the land, walking long distances is easier. Take water for example. Carry too much and it’ll weigh you down. Same for rations. Isn’t too hard when you get used to it.”
"I'll have to take your word for that," Bartram replies as he picks his way over a fallen log, his hounds simply bounding over the obstacle. "The farthest I ever travel is out to that shrine each month.
"Anyhow, if we find a good catch, you won't have to worry about food on your trip for a couple days."
Dugan does his best to forget the matters of recent days and focus on the hunt. He calls on the teachings from his youth and the tricks his people had shown him.
Micheo tries, but does not spot anything that the more experienced woodsmen have not already picked up on.
Inconnu shows off his sterling skills as a woodsman, an experienced traveller of less walked paths being so deep in the woods he's a little out of his element.
Bartram picks out a few sets of animal tracks, and Dugan identifies which of them are the freshest - thus saving your hunting party from wasting potential hours on false leads. Following these tracks, you soon find yourselves looking across a wide stretch of ground at a small herd of three does grazing at the edge of a thickly wooded copse.
"I would've preferred a buck with a decent set of antlers, but these'll do just find," Bartram whispers confidently as he unshoulders his crossbow.
Inconnu gets one of his javelins ready to throw.
Micheo quietly loads a bullet into his little-used sling and takes aim...
Inconnu's javelin lands short of its mark and sticks in the ground like a tottering fence post a few feet from the deer. They snap their heads to attention and pause for the slimmest of moments before turning to flee into the trees behind them.
This proves to be a fatal mistake, for Micheo's sling bullet cracks its target's skull - causing the doe to drop like a stone.
Only one doe escapes into the trees, as a second is brought down when Bartram pierces his target's heart with a stout bolt from his crossbow.
"Ha!" he shouts triumphantly. Groff and Griff heed this as a command and charge across the intervening distance to secure the slain animals. Their master reshoulders his weapon and tromps across the open ground towards the deer.
"A shame you fellows can't stay. You might be good luck. You certainly having surprising skill with a surprising weapon," he says with a jovial clap upon Micheo's shoulder.
The next hour is spent dressing and cleaning the kills.
"Never under estimate a man with a sling. Many a wolf has run afoul of a skilled shepherd. If we're around these parts again perhaps we can go hunting."
"Fortune favoured me this day. But I am glad of it."
”Maybe you should use that instead of a blade. That was a fine shot.” Ulark said as he helped with the dressing and cleaning.
You eventually part ways with Bartram, allowing him to return home with his hounds and his share of the kills. Thus, you are left on your own again, at the end of the Wolfrun Hills.
Inconnu's knowledge of the local geography informs you that the next step in your journey will be crossing into the Carpenden Plains and following the Andoshen River's course until it reaches Almas before pouring into the Inner Sea.
Thus, your next task is to find a way to safely cross the river so you can continue southward.
"We might be travelling for some time before finding a safe area to cross. No chance anyone has been hiding some raft building skills? It might save us some time in the long run but if no one is confident best to keep looking." Inconnu looked around trying to orient himself and recall if there is somewhere easier to traverse this section of river in tales he has heard.
'Nothing permanent, but my people built them from time to time.' Dugan begins collecting lighter raft making supplies as they search for a safe place to cross.
The river further west, back towards Wolfshire, had few if any safe places to cross. The riverbanks were largely sheer cliffs or rough hills, and that stretch of the river itself represented the final stretch of the Wolfrun Rapids.
You presently stand on a bluff overlooking the confluence of the Foam and Andoshen Rivers, creating a span too wide to cross without some manner of watercraft. If you travel upstream along the Andoshen, to the northeast, you might find a bridge or natural ford.
Dugan finds plenty of reeds down by the rivers' edge that could be used as lashings to bind the body of a raft. Unfortunately, the only wood to be found on the ground is no larger than firewood. Acquiring the wood to form the raft would require felling some of the nearby ash or pine trees.
"I may yet, Ulark, I may yet.", Micheo says with some amusement.
*********
"It is fortunate that we have lumberjack expertise at hand.", he remarks.
"Agreed. Some of us can set about that while some of the others could set up a few snairs or lay in ambush for game near some of the easier to access parts of the river? Remaining unseen and unnoticed is our best safeguard I think."
'I'd be happy to help with either task, though I'm a better trapper than a lumberman.'
"I may actually be better at chopping, if strength and aim is sufficient to help."
Micheo takes off his armour and readies himself to aid Ulark, taking his cues from the former lumberjack.
Dugan turns and begins searching the larger area for signs of game and laying snares.
Inconnnu sets down some passable traps... but somehow manages to select exclusively areas where animals are unlikely to go...
With aid from Micheo's muscle, Ulark fells good trees to form a raft to get the party across the river. They bring the logs back to the party's impromptu camp where Inconnu and Dugan have returned with nothing to show for their trapping efforts.
By dusk, the raft has largely taken shape. It would only take another hour or so to finish, but this would risk taking away from your rest. If you do continue the effort, you could also take to the water and reach the far bank by dawn. Of course, crossing the river by night poses its own risks.
"We can finish this up tomorrow, if someone falls in I don't want darkness hindering their rescue."
"That is sensible. Let us begin our rest and shifts."
'And maybe the snares will turn something up by morning' Dugan says dejectedly. He halfheartedly scans the area for any sign of elusive game
For his part, Ulark sat with his back to the felled trees, breathing heavily. ”Yeah. Morning. I’ll get my breath by then.”
With the Andoshen river in front of you and a stack of felled logs at your back, you make camp for the night. The river burbles, occasionally punctuated by the signature sound of a popcarp escaping a mereswan or nightfisher diving for a meal.
Any hope for a quiet night is dashed when the first watch shift feels, then hears a terribly familiar sound reverberating through the ground and logs. You have just enough time to rouse yourselves and reach for your weapons before another hill giant crests a knoll overlooking your camp.
Through the starlight, most of the party can clearly see that this one is a woman, although scarcely less homely than Kardoblag, whom you met some days back. Thick, ratty braids of red hair frame her broad face and bulbous nose. She scans the riverside, muttering angrily.
She unshoulders the uprooted tree she carries and aims it in your direction, barking loudly though thankfully making no immediate move to attack.
Micheo calls out in common, his left arm and buckler raised:
"Giantess, do you know Kardoblag"?"
”We last saw a hill giant, searching high and low for a wedding band. He was most distraught at the thought of disappointing his love, so we stopped and helped him find it.” He have a brief, but accurate description of the Giant. ”...if that is the man you are looking for, he is a few days walk that way, by the reckoning of our legs.”
Even if she doesn't understand Common, the giant woman's face grows more intent when Micheo speaks her errant husband's name. She takes a step forward that sets the ground trembling, but she pauses when Ulark speaks up in words she can follow.
His explanation softens her expression - at least, you think it does. She grunts a quick "thank you" before turning to bound off in the direction that Ulark indicates. Thus, you avoid a second potential thumping from an ill-tempered giant. The rest of the evening passes far more peacefully, perhaps with any other beasts or dangers frightened off by the giant woman's thunderous passing.
Soon enough, the first fingers of dawn rise over the water of the Andoshen.
"Good work, Ulark. You likely spared us a battle."
********
"The raft, then?"
”Indeed. If those two brawl I, for one, do not want to be near.” He said, glad for his ability to speak languages that he had never learned. One more mystery of his bloodline, though a welcome one.
Dugan tenses through the interaction with the giant but breathes a sigh of relief as she stomps off.
The dwarf wakes in a quiet mood. He takes extra time to stretch before eating a light breakfast. 'Yeah, the raft.'
Gathering the materials proves to be the hard part. You spend the morning lashing the felled logs together with the foraged reeds. A longer voyage would require pitch to seal the gaps between the logs, but you judge that this should suffice to get you across the river.
In the meantime, you find that the traps you set failed to catch anything overnight; in at least one instance, you find that a snared animal managed to break free. Thus, you need to rely upon your packed trail meals, supplemented by the venison caught with Bartram.
Dugan sets to rowing with all the power he can muster.
Micheo does his best to drive the raft forward.
Your sweat dapples the top of the raft as you strive to overcome the river's breadth with the strength of your arms. It is tiring work beneath the sun, climbing across the morning sky. There are moments you fear the lashings will fail and the logs will come apart mid river, but this thankfully never comes to pass.
In due time, your raft beaches upon the far river bank, depositing you on the northern verge of the Carpenden Plains, the wide and rolling land that characterizes much of eastern Andoran.