"Works for me. Definitely simpler."
"Trunau?" a woman's voice answers warily from inside. "Well, you don't sound like orcs. Come on in and let me see you ... but I warn you, I've an arrow on the string if you make any funny moves."
Alicia looks to Marikel, then boldly strides into the fort's courtyard. "Don't worry, I don't look like an orc, either."
Marikel makes his way in, hands away from his weapons but his holy symbol of Iomedae visible.
"We understand your caution in these dangerous times. It was long ago that the crusaders held these forts and brought peace to the area. They're long gone now but perhaps peace will return one day."
He smiles grimly.
"No time soon, sadly. It was only a week or so ago that Trunau itself was attacked by a host of orcs. As before Trunau was victorious but we believe something has deliberately stirred up trouble in the area. Have you any news of recent happenings?"
Marikel makes himself comfortable.
The woman inside is indeed holding a finely-crafted longbow and looks like she knows how to use it. She is of Mwangi descent and wearing well-worn and practical clothing for a traveler across the badlands under a fine chain shirt. A shortsword is strapped to one side of her belt and a pair of wands to the other. She lowers the point of the arrow slowly as Alicia and Marikel address her but doesn't drop her wariness entirely.
"Recent happenings? No, I haven't been near Trunau in several weeks. I haven't seen anything unusual, but the foothills are always dangerous. Why are you here? Are you travelers? Where are you headed?"
Marikel slowly takes out some rations as he talks.
"We're looking for some kidnappers who were operating in this area. In particular a Skreed Gorewillow, a common piece of scum who fancies himself a scholar. He traded a young girls life for an artifact that we suspect has deadly powers. To make matters worse, we believe he may be working with the same forces that recently orchestrated the attack on Trunau."
Marikel takes a few bites of food before offering it round, but continues his story.
"The girl heard her captors talking about some forts in the area where their accomplices were hiding. That narrows down their location to only a few months of searching. Unfortunately, I fear the potential risk is well worth the investment of time."
He broods only a moment.
"I'm Marikel. My companions here are Mister Mahath, Mister Dorn and Miss Alicia. I encourage them to interrupt me, or they never get a chance to speak."
He smiles warmly at the others.
"What's your story? If you don't mind me asking, of course."
Alicia nods her head and grunts at the Mwangi woman when Marikel introduces her. It's as much noise as the blonde makes in the ensuing conversation.
"I suppose you'd call me a guide," the woman responds. "I know the badlands and its inhabitants, which ways are safest at which times of the year, and I lead those who must travel to their destinations -- for a price." She tips her head. "The forts you are investigating: I presume this is one of them? Which are the others?"
"Usually common courtesy to give one's name when someone else tells you theirs," Alicia says flatly.
The corners of the woman's lips slowly turn up in an icy smirk. "In Trunau, perhaps. There are places where it's common courtesy to respond to direct questions, as well, instead of criticizing another's manners."
Dorn quickly pipes up to get past the awkwardness of the situation. "As far as which other forts we're investigating... I'd say whichever ones are nearby. Sorry, but I've got no names for 'em. Maybe the lad might know 'em," he says as he nod toward Marikel, "but I sure don't."
"Yes, well. I'll just assume you're Melira then. Seen Gorewillow lately? Been to Freedom Town?" Alicia says, ice in her voice to match the smirk on the Mwangi woman's face.
Melira stares back. "Not since he paid me and concluded our business. But, yes, I know where he is -- or at least where he intended to go when he had gotten what he came for. The Hold is a dangerous place for a traveler, but if I were a betting woman, I would put money on his arriving safely. He's a surprisingly capable man, for a scholar. Now, you," she glances around at the visibly tired and roadworn group, "I'm not convinced. Not without a guide who knows where she's going."
Back at the horses, Mahath hears the sound of distant voices talking in a somewhat civil manner. Understanding that they probably won't need to make a quick getaway, he sets about tying the horses and making sure they have some food and water.
Alicia glances at Marikel before returning her stink-eye to Melira. "Yes, but who'd trust you when you let half-orc murderers into Trunau, just for a few coins? I hear the Patrol are even looking for you, now."
Melira shrugs, arrow still on her bow. "Fine. Take me in -- if you can. In the meantime, Gorewillow is delivering your ... deadly artifact, was it? -- to his employer. How far ahead of you is he already?"
Marikel frowns and tries not to let his surprise show at the turn of events.
"If you were to help us, perhaps your sins could be forgiven."
"Okay, okay, enough with all the 'coins' and 'murderers' and 'forgiving sins' and whatnot. If you could just tell us, lass, where this Gorewillow character went, we'd be grateful. At least a direction he's gone in. We've got ta find 'im and find 'im fast and we've no time for all this bickerin' between the lot of ya," he says, obviously annoyed with them all.
"If I tell you," Melira points out, "you'd still have to get there, and if you try it on your own, I doubt you'll get there before Gorewillow's long gone. If I help you," she turns her attention to Marikel, "my expertise and connections can get you there a lot faster than your bumbl- er,'best efforts.' But forgiveness doesn't spend in Freedom Town. Have you nothing less incorporeal to offer?"
Dorn turns to the healer with a plain look upon his face before, "Pay the lass, lad. I got some coin I can throw in if need be and then we can get movin'. Because I'm all for 'a lot faster'. It's better'n slower."
Marikel scowls.
"Mister Dorn, we won't be going anywhere until the morning. And while it is of vital import that we catch Gorewillow, if Miss Melira here is his accomplice then her assistance would be less likely to improve the situation in our favour."
Marikel turns back to Melira.
"I'd much rather drag Gorewillow back to face justice than yourself but you cannot deny what the easier path would be for my battle hardened companions and myself."
He smiles grimly.
"However, as Mister Dorn points out we can easily pay. If your talents are as good as you say, you will be well compensated. We could double your usual fee. But only for tangible results."
"Mornin'?!" he exclaims, looking to him incredulously. He then begins to stroke his beard in thought before shrugging. "Ah well. Can't win 'em all."
"If your talents are as good as you say, you will be well compensated. We could double your usual fee. But only for tangible results."
"'Tangible results,'" Melira repeats. "Let's spell out what that means. Do you want Gorewillow or the item? Or both? Contracts are always more satisfactory when their ending terms are defined up front."
Marikel bites into some dried meat and chews thoughtfully.
"Let's start with Gorewillow. You said you know where he is. If you can lead us to him safely your services should no longer be required. If you help us apprehend him, I'll pay your standard fee a third time. If he's not there, I'll only pay your standard fee plus half again, with an option to retain your services should they be required."
Marikel nods thoughtfully.
"Is there anything you'd like to add?"
"I can take you where he was going," she asserts. "If he's already gone by the time we get there, he'll have delivered the item to his client. If she's gone ... well, she'll be easier to track, but you'll have to decide then which your priority is. Agreed." She turns and calls over her shoulder into the lean-to built up against the side of the mountain. "Gashnakh! Kom uit! Ons het 'n nuwe werk! My associate," she explains as a burly half-orc emerges from a cave in the hillside, grudgingly tucking a handaxe back onto his belt. "I'm good, not foolhardy. No one travels Belkzen alone. Oh, and this," a snake as long as the half-orc is tall and almost as thick as his arm slithers out of the darkness as well, "is Shaƙariƙe."
"Greetings," Marikel nods at the orc before looking uncertainly at the snake and settling for, "Hi."
Marikel offers round some more food.
"As we'll be working together I'd like to know your abilities and your information on Gorewillow and his client. If we all know who can handle what we'll know when to help and when to stay out the way. Obviously, I'll go first."
He smiles benignly.
"I'm Marikel and I'm a... cleric of Iomedae. Obviously she grants me healing powers but the rest of my abilities are of a more martial nature. Her blessings grant me weapons, grant me shielding and grant me power to command my enemies. And I can bestow some of these blessings on my allies."
Marikel looks rather pleased with himself.
"But I am aware of my limitations. I don't work magic, I don't know the land and I'm not talented with a bow."
He looks round the group patiently.
Alicia scowls at Marikel and grouchily replies, "Alicia. I stab things." She pointedly looks at both the newcomer half-orc and the overgrown snake. Conjuring up a very forced smile, she adds, "I'm sure we'll get along fine."
Melira takes a bit of Marikel's proffered jerky. "I know the land, the terrain, and the dangers. You do what I say when I say it, you should get where you're going alive. I am talented with a bow. In a perfect world, anything that means me harm never gets close enough to hurt us. But this isn't a perfect world. That's where Gashnakh comes in. He's muscle. He does what he's told. And Shaƙariƙe does what I want. Don't worry; he's not poisonous."
Marikel nods.
"Well, if you can work with the likes of Gorewillow, we shouldn't be too much of a hassle for you. What was he doing anyway?"
She shrugs. "Prospecting, from what he told me. He paid me to recruit and deliver people willing to do mining work in the hopes of striking it rich. There's never a shortage of those around Freedom Town. Clearly, though, he was looking for more than ore. Last time he contracted with me, it was to divert a party leaving Trunau for Lastwall, some sort of ransom effort. He said he was trading the girl's safe return for something valuable, something he had a buyer lined up for. What it was, he never told me, and I never asked."
Alicia eyes Melira balefully. Speaking to Marikel, she asks, "So are we staying here the night and setting out in the morning, then?"
As if she expects an answer already, she heads for the shattered gate and waves Mahath in.
Mahath takes one last glance at their mounts to make sure they are settled, then trots towards the gate at Alicia's beckoning.
"So healer, knives, groom," Melira glances at Mahath entering with the horses, before turning toward Dorn and guessing, "and financial backer? I warn you, those horses are liable to end up drake food if you take them along the river. It's almost nesting season."
Mahath approaches. "Finiancial? No. No! I'm Mahath. I'm new to this particular band. I have some modest skills in the arcane arts, apprenticed to Agrit Staginsdar of Trunau."
Alicia snickers. "I think she called you the groom. Dorn is the financial backer, apparently."
Raising an eyebrow and grinning, "Me? A financial backer?! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Blast no! I'm just here with me and me bird helpin' this lot out. As you can see, they need all the help they can get," he says with a wry grin, winking.
Marikel frowns.
"We're not in this to make a profit. Gorewillow has shown his eagerness to kill innocents for a few gold. We're going to get that item back and prevent any further deaths."
Marikel gestures to his companions.
"We were all among the carnage as orcs from the Twisted Nail attacked Trunau and brave people died in the defence of their friends and families. Each of us here accounted for multiple attackers and Miss Alicia even slew a Cave Giant."
Marikel stands and paces.
"If that was just a ruse to find this artifact, there's no accounting for how many more lives may be lost. We believe it belonged to an ancient warlord who united the monsters of Belkzen. But we've seen dead things rise in their tomb and we all know who mastered such evil powers in centuries past. If this item can do this neither Trunau nor Freedom Town will be safe. Maybe not even neighbouring nations."
Marikel start to unpack his gear in a corner while continuing.
"We stay the night and set out in the morning. You, Miss Melira, may wish to prioritise your assistance to us if you still want a future in this area."
Marikel settles down to sleep.
"Wake me for the final watch."
Melira scoffs. "If it's any comfort to you, Skreed Gorewillow wouldn't cross the street to pick up 'a few' gold. The payout from this operation will be substantial."
"Not reassuring," Marikel grumbles over his shoulder.
"I don't want to be right about this artifact."
The cave in the hillside at the back of the old fort turns out to be an old stable ("The Crusaders weren't fools enough to leave horses out in the open to attract drakes," Melira remarks. "I suggest we don't either") where the horses can be sheltered for the night.
Gashnakh appears not to understand the Common tongue and is taciturn even when addressed in his own, responding to anyone but Melira with little more than an unfriendly grunt and to her with as few words as possible. The burden of any conversation falls largely on the party, and they are tired from the long day of travel and anticipating a similar jaunt the next day. Dinner is minimal, and bedding down swiftly follows the setting of the sun.
When Melira wakes Marikel for the last watch before dawn, Gashnakh's bedroll is missing. "I sent him ahead to the river to signal the ferry," she explains quietly. "The quickest way to get where we're going is by the water. It's how Gorewillow traveled, and if we've any hope of catching up to him, we'll go that way, too ... though we'll get started in the right direction by foot until we can meet up with the ferry. Might as well make as much headway as we can."
Marikel glances over to the others and nods.
"Very good. We want to move as quickly as possible now that we're on the right track."
He stands and stretches then reaches for his sword and half pulls it from the eldritch sheath. The blade is razor sharp once more and, with a slight shake of his head followed by a satisfied nod, Marikel slides the sword back again. He eases back into his armour for his watch then takes a brief look around to ensure all is as it should be. Between rounds of the campsite and scanning the dark exterior for signs of trouble, he feeds the campfire and sets about readying his things for an early departure.
Alicia gives Melira dirty looks as soon as she's awake, and continues to do so as long as it takes to pack her gear and get on the road again. "How much of a head start does Gorewillow have from here, anyway?" she asks, not bothering to speak softly.
"How long ago did you make the exchange?" she asks. When informed, she responds, "Then at least two days. It will all depend on whether he caught the ferry or we will -- and how quickly. Traveling alone by boat, he'd have to stop and rest while Bloodtusk has enough crew to sleep in shifts and keep the boat moving; plus, when he reached the Esk, he'd have to travel upstream, probably leave the boat and tramp through Ghostlight Marsh."
"Hmm, some of the first good news we've had for a while. Let's get moving while Melira tells us more about the hospitable sounding Ghostlight Marsh."
"Sounds good ta me, lad. Let's see if we can catch this fellow, hm?" Dorn then gathers his things, calls on Skyreaver to follow and falls in line as they head out.
"Hmm, some of the first good news we've had for a while. Let's get moving while Melira tells us more about the hospitable sounding Ghostlight Marsh."
Melira shrugs as she prepares her pack and slings it onto her back. "It's a swamp to the northeast. where the Esk and Kestrel meet. The border between Belzken and Lastwall cuts right through it, but no one likes to go there if they can avoid it. Folk in Freedom Town say it's haunted."
"Ghostlight Marsh? Are you sure? You know, there's a reason they call it that, and its nothing to take lightly." He looks around at the others, all appearing more seasoned then himself and thinks maybe they know, and just aren't worried.". He continues. "I've never been," he admits. "But I've seen it come up in multiple sources. Two hundred years ago, orcs overran the paladins at Harchist's Blockade." Realizing he's skipping a lot and knowing they have time ahead of them traveling, he elaborates.
"Lastwall's northern border is with Belkzen, right? Well, the actual border has shifted countless times over the decades, even centuries. The paladins of Lastwall kept building fortifications, and the orcs would eventually overwhelm them. Harchist's Blockade was one of the last."
"At the Blockade, the paladins had support from the Council of Thorns, a group of druids with a particularly fervent streak to them. When it looked like the paladins were about to be overrun, the druids wouldn't have it. They performed a bloody ritual, sacrificing themselves to bind their dark enchantment."
Feeling confident he had their full attention, he reached the height of his story. "There was only one account of what happened next. A lone scout with a pouch of sensitive documents was poised to flee from his vantage point in the darkness. According to him, the spirits of the druids rose from their bloody corpses, each an evil will-o-wisp. They wreaked terrible vengeance on the orcs, slaying a great many until the orcs had all fled the swamp."
"The 'ghost lights' that the swamp is named for are actually these wisps, effectively immortal guardians of the foulest nature."
Then he shrugs and adds "Or at least that's what I've read."
Stroking his beard as he finds himself in thought after hearing Mahath's tale, "Ya know, I heard they were all slaughtered by the orcs. The druids attempted ta make a stand but when that failed, the orcs hunted down every last one of 'em and put an end to 'em." He then thinks on that a moment before, "But I guess either way the tale ends the same," he concludes, shrugging.
Marikel shakes his head and scowls.
"Will-o-wisps? Great. Why would Gorewillow go through a swamp? Is that where you're taking us, or do you have a better solution?"
He hefts his pack and with a glance to the others he follows Melira.
"If Gashnakh can signal the ferry," Melira shrugs, "Raag Bloodtusk can take us up the Esk in the keelboat. If he can't, we'll skirt the Marsh by foot on the southern edge. It shouldn't be any slower than traveling through the swamp itself. Still, unless we catch the ferry, we're unlikely to make up any ground on Gorewillow."