You awake to the smell of bacon. You did not sleep well last night. Occasional strange lights and sounds woke you. You head downstairs for your usual breakfast at Jak’a’Napes.
It is early. There are few patrons at this time. Mary will get you seated and take your order.
"Ale and something meaty and dead but not to dead that ye burn it like old boot leather." Rhen smiles a bit
Zevon staggers in from the outside, having not made it to his room the night before. His relief to have avoided the lycanthrope curse has resulted in a week's worth of celebration. It seems to be beginning to take it's toll. He gives Rhen a crooked smile, suggesting that the effects of recent substances may not have fully worn off.
Morning friend!
He looks to Mary. Crusty bread... and cider. Beard of the dwarf and all that! He nudges Rhen with an elbow.
"Aye my beard is nice, nicer then yer stubbless chin all pointy liker yer ears." Rhen nudges back a smile on his face
Deldrin is making his way to the inn for breakfast. It is one of many places he gathers information on a regular basis. He eyes a particularly large half-orc walking into town who is casually inspecting each building he passes. He approaches the half-orc. "Good morning sir, my name is Deldrin Baleson. I am sheriff of Falcon's Hollow. You may call me Deldrin. May I ask your intentions here and offer you proper directions for anything that you may need or desire."
"huh, " the big man grunts. "oh, I am looking for a meal and work if there is any," the Halforc looks down at the man and attempts to smile, but it looks more like a snarl.
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"A meal is where I am headed to this very moment. This way....what is your name? What sort of work are you looking for?"
"Some call me the Monster in the Mist, but I am just Grokar. I perform on the pan pipes, " Grokar says in a flat voice. "That is a joke, you think it is funny? Ha, I look for work I can do with this, " he pulls out a giant long handled hammer with wicked looking spike on the end and gives a genuine smile. "This is Becky. "
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The sheriff smiles when he realizes the attempt at humor. "Hmmm...You and Becky. Actually I hope to find a few men in a similar line of business. I have just found a need for their skills. When we find them, I will let all know what I have learned as of late." They enter Jak'a'Napes, Baleson looks around. He directs Grokar to the table where Rhen and Zevon are sitting. "Gentlemen, this is Grokar. He appears to be in the same line of work as you. Mind if we join you?"
The innkeeper pulls Deldrin to the side and whispers something in his ear.
Mary shows up. She serves Rhen an ale and a plate of bacon, not overcooked. She serves Zevon some crusty bread and cider.
Not waiting for the others to invite him to sit Grokar adjusts his battleaxe at his hip and plops down hard, his seat groaning under his weight. "A warm ale if you have it" he asks the server. "and meat, like that" he points to the plate of bacon.
Turning back to the two men he introduces him self "I am Grokar." he smiles but again it's more of a snarl, meeting new people does not make him as happy as when he is talking about his weapons or what he can do with them.
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Zevon rubs bloodshot eyes at the sight of the large half-orc.
Ummm.... uh, well I suppose greetings and introductions are in order. Well met, Grokar is it? I am Zevon Vierding, this is my companion Rhen Vemsa. We are missing another by the name of Bulgard, likely still abed. The good Sheriff says you are an adventurer as well. What brings you to Falcon's Hollow? Not exactly the booming metropolis.
RHen looks the half Orc up and down, huffing a little at him.
"As he said, Rhen Vemsa. What are ye doin' here?" Rhen is as gruff as Grokar.
Mary returns with an ale and a plate of bacon for Grokar. "All of our ale is warm this time of year. I did heat it up a bit."
"perfect,"Grokar says downing half the mug before putting it down and turning back to the dwarf. "I have been traveling and fighting for. A man said he would pay Grokar to kill a worg, Greypelt. But Greypelt was already dead when I got there. So I came here maybe someone here needs Grokar to kill something. "
Between the talk of killing and the refreshing warm beer Grokar is the happiest he has been since the last time he actually got to wet his hammer.
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Then fate has indeed smiled upon you. It was our band who laid fierce Greypelt low. Truly it was a monumental battle, and one that led to the cleansing of Droskar’s Crucible and the passages below. We did so in efforts to cure this town of a vile malady and to rescue a number of young ones kidnapped by a number of cave dwelling kobolds. As it seems, we have inadvertently taken money from your pouch, perhaps the good sheriff will offer opportunity to earn more. Of course there is always the Lumber Consortium if not!
Baleson joins you at the table. "If Idris returned home, it is doubtful Bulgard will ever join you again." He looks to Grokar and says "He became enchanted with a married woman. Her husband is a very experienced adventurer and overdue to return." As Mary sets down his plate and ale he thanks her and digs into his breakfast.
"Women, married or not, more dangerous than any beast I've ever met, " Grokar grunts and swallows the rest of his ale and motions to the barkeep for another.
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The door to JackanApes swings open, and Bulgard's lithe frame hurriedly slinks along the outer wall. He jumps as the door closes with a bang, drops into a crouch, and hides behind a massive barrel of ale. The man looks awful. Purple blotches cover his neck and chest, his upper lip rubbed raw.
Pssst!! Z-zee!
Bulgard gets no response from Zevon Vierding. He grabs a small item from the floor and lightly chunks it at Rhen in an effort to get his attention. Unfortunately, once the object is in flight, Bulgard realizes thast he has hurled a dead mouse at his friend. He shrieks,
Fromundar's sack! So sorry Rhen, I thought that was a c-corn cob
He ducks his head to the rim of the barrel and looks left and right, scanning the inn.
Is she here? I can't shake her, and I can't keep up with her. She has the grip of an ogre and the sight of a hawk! I've tried hiding, I've tried running, I've even tr-tr-tried putting... well...
He looks down at his feet, suddenly abashed. The ranger shudders a moment, then looks back up and sighs.
Forgive my absence. Is the coast clear? I need to drink
"Eight days and nights with Kitani Eavewalker. My goodness. That is unimaginable."
Mary serves Grokar another ale and takes care of Bulgard as best she can with ale and a hearty breakfast.
Rhen just smiles as he hears his friend's complaints of a woman being more than he can handle.
"The lass is not here right now, come drink a bit and we be sneakin' outta town soon."
Zevon eyes the ravaged ranger.
I don't know Rhen, maybe we should leave him here... a woman scorned and all that. Do we really want to have a jilted lover waiting for us upon our return from whatever task the good Sheriff has for us?
Zevon's breaks into laughter, tossing a slice of bacon Bulgard's way. He turns to Baleson, wiping a tear from his eye.
So Sheriff, you had news?
"I'm not sure if all of this is related. I have several things going on right now that are out of the ordinary. One includes a reward. I thought that might interest you. Some or all of these unusual happenings may turn out to be clues, so I'll let you know what has been reported to me as of late.
Milon Rodham was out foraging for firewood last evening, and he has not come back. His wife is worried, but the initial forays into the woods
have turned up nothing.
Kimi said the children were playing with a bunch of pretty butterflies that glowed different colors, enticing them further into the woods. She got scared and pulled the rest of the children back into town.
Between dusk and dawn, glowing lights and strange sounds emerge from the depths of the northern most woods. No one sleeps well these days, and the consortium is beginning to suffer. Two city merchants have already withdrawn their contracts, damaging the economy. Kreed is offering a 2,000 gold piece reward to anyone who can locate and cease the lights and sounds.
A merchant told me a large shipment of cold iron was recently delivered to a strange halfling with gray skin. During the negotiation, he flashed a symbol of Nerull to intimidate the merchant into a better price. He left with a larger humanoid with flame tattoos on his wrists and arms.
The innkeeper just told me that two travelers, a human and a halfling, stayed at the inn night before last. They wore dark cloaks and slept in shifts in the common room. They kept to themselves, and paid double to be left alone. He had Hollin follow them at a distance when they left. When morning came, they headed north on the main road. They were pulling a heavy handcart behind them."
If you have an interest in this, the reward is open to anyone."
Well they do seem to have a common thread, the forest at the very least. Not sure how diminutive Nerull worshipers fit in though.
His face becomes slack, as if trying to piece together a puzzle only he can see.
"Sounds a bit like the Fey ta me but that be about all I be knowin' o' them. The money sounds good ta me though, what do ya Say Bulgard? Ready ta run away from yer lady problems?" Rhen laughs
Butterflies are those pretty things that flutter about when it is not cold outside.
That is what some people do on Sundays
We will look into it Sheriff. I need a bath first. I want to speak to the inn keep regarding these mysterious figures. Though they may just coincidentally taking lodging here, they were also traveling north. Also we may need to speak with Kreed and others at the consortium. If you could send word that we will be attending to business there you would have my gratitude. They are famously difficult to deal with.
Zevon finishes his last bite and knocks back the remainder of his cider. He greets the innkeeper with a warm smile.
Gratitude for the meal, always fine here. Tell me sir, Baleson mentioned that a few of the unsavory sort kept lodging in the common room here. Perhaps you are aware of their business in town? We fear they may of a nefarious bent and any information would be helpful. Even down to odd markings tattoos, a gray pallor to the halfling perhaps...
"You must be the one mixed up with the woman" Grokar says to the newly arrived and shakes his head. "I am Grokar"
He turns his attention to the sheriff and perks up at the mention of coin and the others speaking of fey. "I've never killed a fey before," his blood thirsty grin is back. "I not very good at enter gating people but can I come with you. Maybe they not like to be enter gated Grokar will watch your back, and we split rewards"
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Bulgard reaches out and grasps Grokars hand, shaking it. The big man has a heck of a grip.
N-n-never traveled with no orc before. Fought em once. Fearsome folk. Gave me this scar. I ain't one to be holding grudges though, or hatin em for who they was born to.
Bulgard scratches his chin, looking Grokar up and down while walking a circle around him. He nods to the bec deCorbin, whistling.
Looks like you n-n-know how to use that thing. I think you and I could make quite the team! But... have you ever fought a man while arrows whizzed by your head? I don't want you getting mad at me- my arrows may pass an inch from your face, but I won't hit you, honest.
He looks at Rhen and Z.
you two are the only friends I've ever had. I'll take any journey you n-need me for.
"You flatter me," Grokar chuckles? Was that a chuckle "I am no orc, just a half. On my mothers side, she'd like you," he says with another chuckle. Definitely a chuckle.
"I'm no afraid of arrows, need heavy bodkin to get through this," he emphasizes the point by slapping his heavily armored chest. Upon closer inspection you can see that his polished armor isn't the only thing protecting Grokar. His grey green hide seems thick enough to take a few arrows.
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The innkeeper scratches his head and concentrates. I can't recall anything more about them. Just dark clothing and suspicious like. Had Hollin foller 'em. They went north on the road. Wait. The human had flame tattoos on his wrists and arms. Yep, sure did.
Ha! This'll be great fun!
He pats the half orc on the back and turns toward the barkeep.
Mary, one more round of ale for the b-boys, on me! Um, cider for pointy ears.
Regarding the consortium, Zevon. They do not allow visitors. It is a dangerous place and they are too busy working to be bothered with visitors. Should you find yourself at a lumber consortium, head to the office and speak with the foreman as you have business there. Excuse me gentlemen.
Zevon returns to the group.
It would seem our gray skinned Nerull cultist and his fire-branded associate were the same duo Hollin shadowed out of town. Now if they have any dealings with the disappearance and the sylvan light show, I know not. However, it seems more than coincidental. Let us make our way north to the Consortium, and perhaps pay a visit to Hollin on the way out. I would suggest you all prepare for travel... after this round of course.
Mary brings you the last round you may have for some time.
Bulgard sacked every swallow of the ale, down to the last drop, pays his tab and heads off to buy his supplies.
The month is Rova, it is one day past the third quarter moon (waning %50)
You are in a temperate forested area. Normal highs would be 80s and lows around 70.
Bulgard checks the sky, feels the humidity and looks at the behavior of wildlife to determine what supplies he may need.
You expect storms this afternoon. The next two days should be dry.
Everyone can check the spoiler as he would inform you of his prediction. Last chance for any supplies you may need.
Zevon will make sure to pack a poncho. He will also pick up a roll of 5 tindertwigs.
"Travel food and fire, I like the rain" Grokar says drinking down the rest of his ale and standing up and following the group out of the inn.
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Perception:
Grokar 17, Rhen 19, Zevon 15, Bulgard 17
Stealth:
Grokar 11, Rhen 16, Zevon 18, Bulgard 20
Bulgard easily follows the deep tracks made by the heavy cart. You head out at 09:00 am and follow the tracks for about 12 miles when they turn off the road and head up a deer trail into the forest. The woods are light at the edge, as the consortium has logged many of the trees. But as you travel further inward, the trees become thick, mossy, and ancient. Light filters through the canopy only sporadically, just a few slivers of sunlight finding their way to the forest floor. Two miles in another trail breaks off to the north. The tracks continue on the trail to the northeast. As Bulgard predicted, a thunderstorm moves through. High winds, heavy rain and lots of thunder and lightning. It lasts about 30 minutes and light rain continues for another 30 minutes. Bulgard watches as the rain does its best to wash away the tracks he is following.
Zevon shakes the rain from his poncho, and draws a deep breath.
Nothing like a good storm to awaken the forest! Bulgard, any chance of finding the trail again or should we proceed on to the Consortium?
The deep tracks are not worn away completely, eventually you have traveled 8 hours today and begin looking for a good place to set camp. When you make a bend in the trail you see an uncovered cart about 50 ft ahead. It is overgrown with thorny brambles, with strange vines growing out of the wooden frame. A remarkably large thorn bush grows at the foot of the cart, a pile of torn clothing wrapped around its base and hanging from its lower branches. Bulgard stops and motions for you to do the same.
Rhen will hurry upstairs and put all his gear on, grabbing his pack, he will make sure all the supplies he might need are inside and then head out with the rest.
"By the Maker, if I were underground I won't be so damn wet and cold. How do ye surfacers deal with all the rain?