Bastian lets out a startled gasp as his fellow bard is attacked, but manages to smirk at Inconnu's words. "Try not to let it eat you while you keep it 'busy'!" He calls back. He then casts his trademark spell, his bow becoming aglow with arcane might.
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Dugan spins abruptly, hearing the commotion behind him as the tatzlwyrm attacks Inconnu. The dwarf had been scanning the forest for threats from without. He sees the creature wrap itself around the bard and thinks better of attacking it with his hammer. The dwarf rushes over, drawing his battleaxe as he moves.
'Get offa him you overgrown grass snake!' The anger rises up with every word, every step as Dugan brings his axe to bear on the creature.
Str
Dugan's axe buries itself between the creature's tough scales, springing a small font of blood from its hide.
The tatzlwyrm's claws cling tenaciously to Inconnu.
The beast opens its jaws in a snarl and breathes toxic vapor into the bard's face. Inconnu feels his muscles weakening as he breathes the creature's exhalation.
Joanne moves on it and goes to grapple it hoping to get Inconnu loose
Seeing his comrade in danger, Ulark strode forward. Raising his axe he bellowed ”Not today!” Silently he swore an oath to himself that he would die before fleeing. This was his challenge to himself, to look the beast in the eye and to prove himself the stronger.
Ulark's deadly swing nearly cleaves the head from the tatzlwyrm, and as Joanne tries to pry the beast from Inconnu, she ends up tossing the beast's corpse to the ground.
Str
Inconnu stumbles and falls on his rear. As he gasps for breath and coughs up wisps of the wyrm's poison, he can feel more of the weakness seizing his muscles before his lungs can purge themselves.
Bastian rushes up to Inconnu and offers him a hand, "Are you alright my friend? Can you stand?"
Inconnu lies on his back and focuses on breathing for a moment. "Poison... I should be alright in a week or two if it doesn't kill me." He hacks up a bitter cough before rolling on his side.
"An actual Tatzlwyrm," Milon whispers, looking down at the corpse. "When hunters and trappers would go missing in the northern woods, the more superstitious folks 'round the camps and the Sitting Duck would claim that Tatzlwyrms got 'em. The less addle-minded of us just assumed the Knifetongues or some wolves were responsible. I didn't even think they really existed in the Vale. They're supposedly primeval cousins of real dragons."
"I bet this corpse could get good price, I know someone in the Sitting duck wanted one stuffed and to put in the Sitting Duck to act as a form of mini-attraction for outsiders."
Ulark stares at the corpse. ”We killed a dragon then?” He gave Milon a smile. ”Quite a tale we will have then.” Then turning to Inconnu he said ”I’m glad you are alright. It’s funny. When cutting trees I always imagined they were ogres or dragons or whatnot. Really doing this isn’t what I thought it would be like.”
"So the evil dragon tried to eat me, clearly I'm the most virtous... I'm as surprised as anyone." He sits up but holds off on standing for now.
Milon looks to Ulark with barely concealed awe, the veteran woodsman's eyes tracing between the half-orc's axe, his arms, and his face.
"That certainly was a telling blow, son," Milon whistles. "While the performer catches his breath, let's have another look for that elderwood moss - and while we're at it, see if this wyrm kept a hoard like its larger kin."
Dugan's wild eyes widen as Ulark's axe sinks into the neck of the wyrm in front of his face. His breathing slows but remains heavy as he follows the haft of the axe to the Aasimar.
'Or maybe that tattle-worm just thought you were the tastiest.' to Inconnu. He looks up at the tree above. 'Ya think he woulda kept his spoils up there?'
He returns to scanning the treeline, keeping an eye out for a flash of the fennic fox.
Peering upward, Dugan sees some humanoid bodies hanging high among the tree's many branches. Likely woodsmen who fell prey to the wyrm, their packs and gear are still tangled among the tree branches, even though most of the bodies' flesh has been stripped away.
The trunk is lined with many low, easy-to-climb branches, so reaching those remains would not be a terrible challenge, if someone should so choose.
During the approach to the clearing, the fox had scampered away without Dugan noticing. In hindsight, the critter was probably wary of the wyrm's lair. You are hopeful that the fire-footed friend will return eventually.
Dugan grunts to himself and turns back toward the tree. Have to watch that little fox a little more closely. He may be able to warn me when we're approaching something dangerous.
'Sure enough. He left a few poor fellas hanging up in the branches.' The dwarf points a meaty finger to where he saw the dangling corpses, 'I'm not much a fan of heights, but I can clamber up there if no one else wants to.'
"I could probably still manage it in a bit but wouldn't be as confident in my skills now compared to five minutes ago." Zan starts to slowly get up, his equipment felt a lot heavier now.
While examining the tree and its branches, you find a large patch of verdant moss growing on the trunk - surely the elderwood moss that Laurel needs to treat the Blackscout Taint.
"So who'll be climbing the tree to get the moss, and check the bodies above."
”I’ll do it. While I’m sure that friend Dugan is more than capable, I am taller. Please just keep watch for any more of those wyrms.”
Ulark sheds his mail shirt and heavier trappings to free up his limbs for the climb.
He reaches the elderwood moss first, where it grows on the tree at about three men's height from the ground. With his dagger, he cuts loose a large section of bark, thick with moss, and pries it away from the trunk, stowing it in his back.
Scaling yet higher, he finds the three bodies of the wyrm's most recent prey. Although little of them remains other than bone, gristle, and other bits the wyrm found unpalatable, their trappings make it clear that these were hunters or woodsmen of some stripe.
Two of them still have their crossbows near, as well as their still-sheathed short swords - testament to how quickly the wyrm had fallen upon them. Rather than any sort of armor, they only wear the tattered remains of their boots and clothes.
The third body, however, is different, evidently having been a more accomplished woodsman. A masterfully-crafted shortbow is slung on a wood knot near the body, and he still wears a serviceable suit of hide armor. Additionally, a signet ring bearing an emblem of a flaming hawk still clings to his bony finger.
Lastly, and perhaps most strangely, while the satchels and belt pouches of the other men only carried a smattering of coins and trail rations, this third man's bag contains a pouch filled with pearls and a rolled up piece of paper.
Ulark called out what he had found, as he goes about bringing the bodies down. He carefully climbs down (take 10 for a 12) when this is finished. He then goes about putting his armor on as he hands the note to the nearest comrade to read.
”This note might be important. I can’t imagine anyone around here just casually carrying around so much wealth.”
Written in common Taldane, the message is ripped and marked with ale-stains, but it remains legible, albeit quite brief.
“Find Knifetongues. Give pearls. Payment for farm raids. No more till they catch Jana."
"Oh those Mother F***ers, Didn't think they'd sink this low.
The LC is now going to enjoy paying more for their meals, cause the Farmers Alliance is going to have a field day with this."
'Who's Jana?' Dugan looks thoroughly confused.
"Jana is my nickname in town, Just use the First letter of each my names and it spells Jana, though another variant is Joanna."
"The Knifetongues never got their pearls, and now this one who was meant to pay them off is dead along with them. It almost makes you believe in karma," Bastian comments after hearing the note. "Plus they certainly didn't manage to catch Jana here did they?"
”True. But they were disposable. The brothers being gone won’t stop this. Joanne...why do they want you dead?”
Joanne takes a deep breath
"Sorry if this is gonna be a bit of a long explanation."
"The reason they want me dead are few, but connected;
First, My family is the one that started the Farmer's Alliance,
you could even say it was my idea and I act as the diplomat of the group even helping with disputes from within.
That and I manage the relations the Farmer's Alliance has with people and businesses when needed."
"Second, The Farmer's Alliance was sick of the LC, Mr Kreed and goons taxing the crap out of us and not paying a sustainable price for the food we made.
So we did a number of things and got out from complete control of the LC and Mr Kreed.
They did not like now needing to pay us properly, not being able to tax the crap out of us or having the control they had before."
"Third, Currently the Farmer's Alliance controls the local food in the area and it's prices.
If we want we can jack up the price they pay for food and not by a small amount either.
And we did warn them that if they try anything funny, they'll not like the consequences.
With this their food bill is gonna be a LOT higher, they'll be paying in gold a day for a year or two for this."
"And Now with this they might loss even more control as certain other groups in the area are on the fence to not do friendly business with the LC."
Ulark stayed quiet, offering a shrug. Money? Politics? He was paid to cut down trees. And to use the same axe against any outside threats. But it kind of made sense why they would want her dead if she was the reason they were making less. Finally he said ”I know you are angry. But if they are willing to kill you, then retaliating like that will just make them angrier. Maybe talk with them and reach an agreement? They might want you gone because it sounds like you control the food prices. Maybe with the right contract they will have no reason to send anyone after you. The farmers can sell fairly, and they won’t be afraid of price increases. Instead of revenge, perhaps get a neutral mediator?” He hoped that he didn’t sound foolish, given how far out of his comfort this was. But from where he stood it seemed like she would have more assassins after her if nothing changed.
"This may not be the Consortium," Milon says as he grabs the pouch of pearls and examines them. "At least not directly.
"I think this may be the Redrock Guild's work.
"Scuttlebutt around the cutyard was that clam beds were found downriver, and a few local families had been training their children to dive for pearls. Word got out, and I heard that Kabran had some of his leg-breakers jumping the kids and taking the pearls."
"Oh so you think it was that bast**d.
And it would not be the first time he caused trouble for me.
Bast**d tried kidnapping me once, though I managed to kick him in the nuts hard enough that It raise his voice permanently, that and it was humiliating for him.
Since he was curled up in the street for over an hour."
Milon chuckles briefly at the story before the mirth flees his face as reality sets in.
"Well, settling scores and political skullduggery will have to wait until we return to the Hollow. You said Miss Laurel only needed one more ingredient to make a cure, right? Something in the old dwarf ruins? If your performer friend can stand, we need to be moving on if you want to arrive before nightfall."
Dugan scowls at the mention of mugging children and his sour look only deepens as Joanne speaks of her near(ish)-kidnapping. He guffaws loudly when she tells of the saving crotch-kick,
'I'd hate to take a blow to the ghoulies from a gal your size, then again I wouldn't stoop to people-stealing. I can't wait to finish up these errands and cause some trouble for those scum.' Dugan's blood is clearly up, his hand patting the axe at his hip as he talks.
Bastian offers Inconnu a shoulder to lean on as they walk, "Come on then! Milon's right. We can't have you lazing about here forever." He hopes the friendly jabs will give his fellow bard a push to move past the weakness caused by poison.
Inconnu starts getting up and as they trek through the trees he sighs thinking how much more miserable the rest of the journey is going to be.
The forest thins as you approach the mountains, with Droskar's Crag looming high in the distant, darkening sky between the treetops.
At the forest's edge, the land slopes down before rising again into foothills.
From this vantage point, lit by the emerging moon and starlight, you have a terrific view of the ruined dwarven monastery that squats at the foot of the imposing mountain, nestled between ancient gnarled trees.
Made of simple stone blocks, worn smooth with the passage of time, the stout building is falling apart. Sections of the slanted shale roof have collapsed and portions of the outer wall have crumbled. Weeds and wild thorn plants run rampant across the field leading up to the place, leaving only the slightest indication of a path that ends at the ruined front doors. Beyond, an overgrown yard sits in shadow.
"Why do I get the feeling that there'll be something in residence. The structure is still largely standing after all this time."
"Oh I am in agreement with you, Inconnu.
Let's do a quick check to find a defendable area for sleeping tonight."
Dugan, with help from Joanne and Milon, finds a sheltered place to make camp on the ridge overlooking the monastery. Meanwhile, Bastian and Ulark keep an eye out for danger as Inconnu sets down his gear and recovers his breath from the now more exhausting haul.
Ulark and Inconnu spot a pair of wolves with dark gray fur skulking around the monastery below, likely hunting for prey. With your well-chosen campsite, you are both out of sight from the wolves and the wind carries your smell in the opposite direction.
"Alright let's get some shut eye before morning."
You follow the same watch rotation as the previous night, but it proves unnecessary as the night passes peacefully - at least for you.
Through the night, wolves are heard braying to each other until, around midnight, you can hear the distant screech of some prey caught by the pack.
Towards dawn, a few miles away into the forest at your backs, you also hear something large knocking over trees. Thankfully, whatever it is chooses not to come near your camp.
The sun rises, but the morning light does nothing to make the monastery appear more inviting.
Inconnu would cast cure light wounds that night on Duggan knowing the man is still injured.
"I'm still feeling a little weak but lives may depend on us. I think we should deal with those wolves first off, if they catch wind of us they might just stalk us til we are injured and vulnerable."
When dawn breaks Joanne gets up, stretches and does some exercises.
"Let's see if we don't run into too much trouble today..."
Sunrise is calm. From the campsite on the ridge, there is no visible sign of the wolves, but Dugan catches sight of the his friend, the fox, peering out from a hiding spot in a nearby appleleaf shrub.
A lone razorcrow flies overhead, towards the monastery. It lands upon the slanted tiles atop the ruin's tower, joining a number of fat, black birds that lazily roost along the roofs.
As Dugan repacks his sleeping kit he intentionally leaves a small strip of dried meat on a small flat rock and whistles into the woods after the fox. He turns and shoulders his pack.
'Hopefully we run into SOME trouble today, or at least something more interesting than an empty old building. Even if it is of such a handsome design.'
The Dwarf waits impatiently for everyone to get under way.
Joanne replies
"I generally prefer it when there is no trouble,
but it is something out of my hands and beyond my control."
"I guess it's one of those prepare for the worst and hope for the best kind of situations. If we can get those mushrooms and get out quickly I'm all for it." Inconnu says as the group starts getting ready to head there.
An old, worn path leads up to the ruin's broken gate, passing beneath the ivy-choked arch and into the yard beyond.
A pair of old stone statues flank the gate. While one statue is little more than mossy rubble, the other remains largely intact.
Although very worn by the long passage of time, it still clearly depicts a dwarf holding aloft a great stone hammer.
Creeper vines and moss cover most of its surface, particularly along the pedestal.