As they approact town, Don questions, "Alright here's what I don't get....if all this stuff is an illusion. Why does everyone seem to have the same story about what these towers look like? Water I get, I mean, a giant pond of gutrot might be nice and all, but we all know better, but all these towers seem the same."
Later, when they are all greeted, Don nonchalantly rubs his chin as he gets a token sign of respect. "Nevermind that, I want a frelling drink before that storm hits."
"Stories of plagues and giants old one. Do you have any news of either?"
Rukoth smiles. "A man after my own heart. What is life without good drink and friendly women? The drink we can provide, but the company is your own to seek. There is no storm. It is the giants. They will not come here."
Don's eye raises in surprise. "I...see." He looks a bit alarmed towards the sandstorm in the distance.
"Have things been relatively peaceful here, then?" Nayce asks dubiously.
"Plague and giants? This is what brings you then."
Rukoth nods.
"We shall talk. Some tales I have of both. As for peace - most of the time, but I grow concerned."
Turning to the villagers, he adds, "Bring food and water for all our guests."
To Dram, he goes on, "Do not let your companion drink the groundwater. We have heard of the plague and believe it is carried so. Your friend will suffer if he drinks unwitting from the well."
Once the party is gathered near his house and supplied with food, he dismisses all onlookers and continues.
"Rainwater will not last forever. We know that the wells are becoming polluted although we do not know the cause. Some say the sand giants are rising and this is part of a greater scheme. For myself I do not believe that. They must also drink. But there is truth in the stories of their rising. We see more and more sandstorms and they come closer. Each night I fear attack. Not from their great warriors, but their young who seek sport and honour."
"Rainwater will not last forever. We know that the wells are becoming polluted although we do not know the cause. Some say the sand giants are rising and this is part of a greater scheme. For myself I do not believe that. They must also drink. But there is truth in the stories of their rising. We see more and more sandstorms and they come closer. Each night I fear attack. Not from their great warriors, but their young who seek sport and honour."
"Hmm, well, if the wells are polluted that's going to become a problem, unless someone can find out what's doing it, which of course we probably will be trying to do. If you don't mind, I might take a look at the water from the well to see if I can out what is wrong with it." Guldarin glances over at Greeg. "And of course Cronin might want to have a look too, since he's also a skilled healer. Perhaps we can find out what is causing the problem, and come up with something that will make it drinkable."
Dram nods at the old man and whispers his worries to Dirt.
Don eyes the water with both suspicion and grim necessity. He waits for the bookish types to give it approval before he takes a single swallow.
"Whatcha think, it potable?" He considers the possible options, "You know, I'm sort of surprised you guys haven't had any threats about this...It's not so uncommon for some wandshaker to start extorting a town for gold, under the threat of poisoning the wells. Then again, if there's no notice of it, well, maybe they just want you all dead." He shrugs, "Anythin of er, interest out here, maybe? Luchre, magic, horses?" Don snaps his fingers, "Old tombs or religious sentiments?"
Cronin samples the well water, touching and smelling.
Greeg listens to the exchange of greetings, looming in the back of the group rather than getting in everyone's faces as they talk about old times and sand giants. He could understand the younger giants somewhat, since a good scrap was both fun and honorable (at times).
When the town elder mentions the water, Greeg leaned in and whispered to Cronin "See, that's why I only drink alcohol. Have you seen what fish do in water?" He was only half joking too.
When the two healing types wander over and look at the well, he mosies on over as well, looking at the water and the area around it for any signs that it could be natural. If plants were sickening in the area, or animals were acting strangely as well, this would tell something of the nature of this plague.
He snorted in mirth at the man called Don. He was beginning to see a pattern with how this guy thought. Greeg decided there and then to keep a closer eye on his money pouch and not get invlolved in a dice game with the man.
[ooc]Not sure if I'm meant to ask first to roll skills or just provide rolls on what Greeg would be doing. Skill challenge failures etc make spontaneous skill rolling a little more ....interesting, I guess. Let me know if those were'nt suitable skills.
Don ponders his own words, considering the best ways to spread disease in a water supply, here.
Thievery
Earlier, under the sweltering sun…
Don glances over at Kevaras as they stroll beneath the desert sun. "That armor's got to be all sorts of uncomfortable....I mean, besides the fact that it's 120 degrees out here, it's also pretty heavy, right?"
"Yes, erm, thanks for your… concern. This inconvenience is nothing compared to the general oppressiveness of the Underdark, for which I am thankful everyday for having left behind. Though I have grown accustomed to this burden on my shoulders, it a reminder of those, less fortunate, who remain in the clutches of the Spider Queen and the King That Crawls."
"Fortunately, before I embarked on such an endeavour," he gestures at the trail of footprints made by the group in the vast desert, "I invested in a particular ensorcelled armour that absorbs heat to power its resistance against necrotic energies."
"...what's the term for it? Loinarmor, or whatever...anyway. Long story short, he needed ointment for a week before he could sit down..." He chuckles to himself, then lets himself slip back in line a little.
"You are thinking of the lower half of the armour worn by the priestesses of Lolth? I would advise against going near such regions, as the needing ointment would be the least of your problems."
Cronin and Guldarin take their time examining the well and come to the same conclusion. The water is contaminated, although quite how is mysterious. Both Greeg and Don confirm that nobody in the village will have done such a deed, but Dram comes up with a possible answer.
Concentrating on the parched ground, he finds a small fish like creature waiting for the rains to raise it from its dormant state. The lungfish isn't able to articulate much, but it fears the effects of the well water should any spill near it. The fear hints at a plant of some sort, but an alien species. Dram realises that the contaminated water brings a madness, turning friend against friend.
Between them, Cronin and Guldarin can purify the current water supply in the well, but this will be of limited value unless some kind of filter system can be arranged.
Cronin racks his brains for what kind of sign to look for of such a plant.
Dram will ask around to some of the locals if they have seen any unusual plants, or any animals in particular that have been affected more by the plague.
"Cronin, you are good with plants as well as I. Scrap the sides of the well and look and see if any unusually plants come up. I am going to go talk to some locals about this alien plant."
Don pipes in to Dram, volunteering himself, "Eh what the hell, beats standing around here watching that sandstorm. Anything's better than watching people stare at a cistern"
Don takes a few hours to learn the town a bit, drink, chat up the locals and such, before he starts making inquiries
Streetwise
He casually tosses some dice, looking for advice.
He shrugs, "Meh..."
"What do you think, Cronin, do you think we could get at the well purified well enough to let the people fill their water cisterns, and not be as dependent on the chance of rain or on a well where the water is contaminated? we could go and look for the cause knowing that there'd be water here while we did so, at least."
Zeric stands with his companions, not having much interest in the well situation he looks around for anything out of the ordinary.
Greeg listens to all that is said, casually chewing on some of the hard tack they brought with them for the trip. Most folk were averse to eating trail rations, but the big Warden enjoyed the feel of the crunch and chewyness of the jerked beef and hard breads.
He spoke around a mouthful of the food, trying not to spit crumbs but with mixed success. "Well, ifff the water waffn't poisoned here, fftands to reason it was poisoned .... <swallow> ...upstream somewhere."
He scratches his head briefly, where the sun exposure had left it burnt and pealing as he continued. "Might be worth asking around to see if there are caverns the wells attatched to or if the water flows in from somewhere else."
He also racked his brains to think of a type of alien plant that might affect creatures in such ways. He'd fought weird things beneath the caverns of Ordholme before, stuff that had no place on this world. Mayhap something in his past would help.
As he was thinking he subconciously went to lean on the object next to him, before he realised it was the little gnome. At least one of the little gnomes, he could never tell which one was real.
"Sorry" he muttered, stepping slightly away from the small man and turning to keep him out of the periferal. He was still getting used to small folk around him again. Wouldn't do to have another gnome incident like last time.
Guldarin ponders awhile and manages to purify enough of the well water for the citizens of Hallampour to restock their barrels and cisterns. Rukoth is both impressed and grateful, urging the villagers to take advantage of this boon.
Cronin and Greeg pool their knowledge but come up with very little. The best they can think of is a half remembered story of a semi sentient plant that died out centuries ago. From the very little they can remember, the plant was useful as well as poisonous, being extremely adhesive.
Dram wanders over to a group of old men and throws a few dice. His varied luck opens mouths and soon he is awash with tall tales of mighty giants that turned to sand and hidden ruins. Most of this sounds like the usual tavern tales he's heard many times before, but one old codger produces a piece of metal he claims is part of a giant bracelet. It's certainly too large to be part of anything a human would wear, but whether it is anything more than scrap is out of his knowledge.
Zeric potters carefully out of Greeg's range and notes that the sand seems to have settled. In fact, the area is now suspiciously quiet as evening draws in with the suddenness of desert lands and the temperature drops.
Guldarin is sat in the shade of the tree near the well, looking at a donkey and pondering how to milk him.
Cronin continues staring into the well, as if he'll learn more from it.
Guldarin and the donkey contemplate each other with mutual incomprehension, while Cronin glowers at the well, defying it to defile itself in his presence.
Greeg stands nearby, leaning against the side of building and stayin close to his friend. His head is beginning to feel a little cold in this weather, showing that wizard was right again. He rally shouldn't have punched him those many years ago. Seems he knew what he was on about.
Don is at U29, making his round of the thorpe, after failing to find anything of real interest here, aside from plague.
Kevaras hovers near Guldarin and the donkey, keen to offer gastronomic advice if the former plans on cooking the latter.
He paces about W20, the talk about alien plants making him recall something about mushroom people from underground.
Sadly, he realises that myconids are fungi which are a different biological kingdom to plant life.
Nayce is pondering who would tamper with a water supply.
Kevaras's knowledge of fungi stands him in little stead here, although he is confident that the groundwater supplying the well must run from the north.
Dirt stirs uneasily, as something to the west catches his attention and Dram, following the bear's lead feels his own senses tingling in response. Something out there is moving.
"Guys there is something over to the west. Get ready, it may be nothing but better safe than sorry."
Rukoth watches as the more alert group members respond to Dirt's warning. "You think we may be attacked? We shall ready ourselves."
He nods to the assembled villagers who look wide-eyed at the strangers in their midst and hustle the younger children indoors. Some of the women follow them, but can be seen behind doors and windows with bows at the ready. Among the men, some climb onto the flat roofs and lie prone, also holding slings and bows, while another small contingent of the younger and more able take up positions to the north. Among them is Madrissa.
"We will hold the far end and try to keep whatever comes away from you. Guard the square if you can."
Don curses to himself, really preferring to be on the other side of an ambush. He hurries towards the issue.
Alert now, the group realise that the village is surrounded. Eight looming figures blend uncannily into the landscape and are advancing on you.
Seeing the trouble approaching, Greeg readies his shield an hammer, hoping to get between the large figures and his other companions as soon as he can
"My word, they look like large fellows." Guldarin ponder momentarily. "Or they could be very large, and further away than I think."
".....crap. Never attack here, huh?"
Kevaras readies his shield, and scans for foes using his darkvision.