The month is Lamashan, the day is Moonday. It is four days past the full moon, a waning gibbous.
Sunrise: 6:49am, Moonset, 10:51am Sunset: 6:24pm Moonrise: 9:42pm
The Jurin Kreed makes dock in Falcon's Hollow just before sunset. The weather is clear and the temperature is dropping through the sixties right now. Jaylene greets you as you enter The Sitting Duck, seats you at your choice of locations and takes your order.
"Ale and some stew, that wind be colder than normal. Mightin' be sitting out on that big ol' cup o' water makes things colder too." Rhen waits for his order
Dot.
Kibbo and Jarrdreg cautiously enter the tavern looking about for something. They find it. It is you. They scurry to your table taking care not to be stepped on or trip a patron who does not look down as they walk.
Jarrdreg says "Great mastuhs! Great mastuhs! It so good to see you. We have message from Great Liberator Lady Cirthana of Iomedae. She say to be in her study room after your breakfast in the morning. She have important news for you. She such a good mastuh. She make a minnow fountain and teach us how to make our own ale and then we do anything she say. She good, she is."
Kibbo looks at Rhen's ale. "Great Liberator Reed, you finish with that ale now? Kibbo can finish it for you."
Rhen looks at the Kobold then at his ale, laughing a bit.
"Scurry way little one, else I may make ye my meal." Rhen show his big teeth and finishes his ale in one go
"Kibbo...A dwarf and his ale... You not know? Leave him be or he get you."
"Message deliver good. Scurry, Jarrdreg, scurry." The two scurry out of the tavern.
Let's go see what Cirthana has to say, shall we?
Rhen grabs is stew, grumbling the whole way, sipping at it as they walk to see the Good Lady
As you exit the building you are faced with dark figure looming over you. It stands roughly six and a half feet tall, with a wide brimmed hat adding another two at least. It looks disturbingly thin for its height, and its frame is draped in dark robes bound tight with a kind of leather corset, covered with buckles and pouches, that extends down into thick strips that stop mid-thigh though the legs are obscured by robes. The most unnerving feature however, is the beaked mask covering the figure's entire face. The green-lenses eyes giving no hint of emotion. The figure leans forward, and a raspy voice reverberates from behind the leather:
I seek the town's healer. Where are they?
If he was u-u-u-up your arse, y-you might be able to find him
Grokar pushes himself up from the bench where he sits and lumbers over to stand behind Rhen and Bulgard. The thin man may tower over his friends but Grokar stares him in the eyes.
"There a problem? We have somewhere to be."
Rhen nearly spits out his stew at Bulgard's remark.
"Oi' lad, that mightin' be a bit harsh. Follow us but we weary, the Hallow don't likin' strangers at times. Specially ones dressed ta cover their face." Rhen says
Deldren has been following the tall stranger at a distance for some time. He makes use of the opportunity to approach. "Good evening, gentlemen. It is a bit late to be anywhere but the tavern or the brothel. Will you join me for an ale?"
"Sure. Is he going with us?"
Bulgard gestures to the awkward fella.
The figure cocks his head, as if confused by the woodsman's suggestion. His gaze travels over the rest of the group and the raspy voice speaks again.
No problem orc-blooded, I only seek the town healer. Professionally, non-emergent. The mask is a precaution only. My vocation can often lead to exposure to contagion. If the hour is too late, then rest and sustenance will suffice. I do not wish to delay when the appropriate hour arises.
"I'm afraid we do not have an official healer in this town. We have an herbalist who treats folk when they are sick. It is rumored one of our clerics has the power to miraculously heal minor injuries. Other than that, folks just do the best they can. There is lodging just down the road to your south at Jak'a'napes. They serve a fine breakfast there."
In that case, I will decline your offer of an ale and procure lodging.
The figure turns on its heel and strides towards the inn. Its gait is even more gangling, nearly awkward, than you would have imagined.
The month is Lamashan, the day is Toilday. It is two days until the last quarter moon, waning gibbous.
Sunrise: 6:50am, Moonset:11:56am, Sunset: 6:22pm, Moonrise: 10:36pm
Bulgard predicts a warm day reaching the mid eighties with a low around 50 tonight. Rain and thunderstorms will be coming in with a cold front overnight.
You finish breakfast and head to the church.
The door to the church is locked when you arrive. It is equipped with a large doorknock which you use.
Jeva opens the door. Her eyes widen and she smiles when she sees you. She jumps onto Rhen, hugging him. "I missed you, Rhen. Got any of that hardtack? I still live with the Jabbs. I have a real family and all kinds of friends. Lady Cirthana has hired me to help her here. I never thought things could be so great, but they are. All thanks to you guys. Who is that? What is he?" She is pointing at Grokar.
Rhen smiles at the small girl, pulling out some hard tack for her.
"Well lass seems ta me that ye been growin' lots." Rhen ruffles her hair then moves inside. "Ye be showin' us around?"
"Lady Cirthana is in the study. She said you should see her there and I should lead you to her. Come on."
When you arrive at the study, Cirthana has heard you coming and is standing behind a desk. You see that familiar glowing smile as she welcomes you. Same pleasant perfume. She is wearing casual vestments. Her longsword is sheathed and propped in the corner, not far from her reach. Her presence and beauty and cannot be ignored and at times it can be overwhelming.
"Good morning, gentlemen. Thank you for joining me. I would not have called for you if it were not important. But first, who is this large addition to your party? I am Lady Cirthana of Iomedae. It is a pleasure, sir." Her hands remain on the desk in front of her. She makes eye contact with the half-orc and smiles.
Mox Decker makes his way through the town early. He notices the group from the night before making their way down one of the streets. He decides to first get his bearings. He locates the alchemist, does not enter but marks the location. He then makes his way to the temple. If the sheriff is to be believed, she would likely be the greater asset. County herbalists rarely meet his standards of expertise.
He raises the knocker and lets it fall. He will attempt to open the door if it is not immediately answered.
Jeva opens the door and when she sees Mox she screams and slams the door shut. You hear a bolt slide. She runs to the study.
"Lady Cirthana! There is a devil at the front door. Big and tall and masked with a huge long beak."
Rhen doesn't sit but stands by the door a bit, watching the whole room at the same time.
Nodding at the good lady as they enter. "Ye been teachin' the lass here yer ways?" Rhen says with a bit of a smile
Cirthana excuses herself while she straps the longsword to her waist. "Excuse me, it seems I am needed at the entrance. Yes, Rhen Vemsa, I am. She is a quick study." She casts detect evil on her way to the door. She opens it. Mox has no evil aura about him. "Good morning, sir. Welcome to the church of Iomedae. I am Lady Cirthana, her cleric. How may I assist you?"
"Ye teachin' her the way o' yer God er just some sword fighin'?" Rhen asks patting his own weapon. "I could be showin' her a few things."
My name is Mox Decker. I am a medicus and a healer. My travels and research have drawn me to this town. I customarily announce my presence to the local healer or physicians' guild when I arrive in a town. If I have misjudged your position, I will continue on to your apothecary.
"I am Grokar, little one. It is very nice to meet you," The imposing half orc extends his meaty paw. To the young girl.
"Mox Decker, it appears my prayers have been answered. I was just about to share some information with a group of adventurers that I believe you may be particularly well suited for. Please join us in my study." When the two arrive in the study, Cirthana introduces those she can. "Rhen Vemsa, Bulgard Merkenkin, this is Mox Decker. Mox Decker is a healer." Rhen Vemsa, we are saving the sword for later. Rest assured she will train daily when she is ready." She walks behind the desk and addresses Grokar. "Sir, I apologize for the interruption. How may I properly address you? I always use first and last names. "
Jeva smiles and shakes the huge hand. "Grokar. I like that name. I am Jeva."
"Do ye be thinkin' ye could take the mask off? Be lettin' us see yer face?" Rhen says
"Yeah, that is super creepy. Take it off." Jeva pouts and moves to Rhen.
His response is flat and cold, but not hostile.
I must first ascertain the nature of this information before I will willingly expose myself to possible malady. Please continue.
"I can assure you, Mox Decker, there is no danger here at this time." Cirthana looks to Bulgard Merkenkin and Rhen Vemsa. "Zevon Vierding is no longer with you? Did he die with a fully charged wand of cure light wounds?" Her gaze goes back to the unidentified half-orc.
Gloved hands remove the wide brimmed hat revealing two small ram horns which curl back and down. Between them is matted black hair that begins just in front of the crown of his head. Tucking the hat under his arm, Max begins unfastening buckles which connect the leather straps of the mask. The face beneath the unsettling beak is perhaps more disturbing as his fiendish heritage becomes fully apparent. Horizontal pupils of wide-set yellow eyes adjust to the light. Pale skin stretched thin over high, broad cheekbones and an elongated jaw gives the impression of a skull, but one more caprine than human.
So as to this information.
"Well, then....On occasion, I am summoned to the Emissary Stone. I have been informed that you are now familiar with it. On my last visit, I was told that Darkmoon Wood is now fey territory again. It always belonged to them before the treaty and the reclamation does seems just. The nymph queen Syntira has already reclaimed her lands. Yesterday, I received a missive from her. It seems a deadly plague afflicts the fey of the Wood and they are desperate to find its source and a cure.
Syntira has long attempted to improve relations between her fey subjects and the inhabitants of Falcon’s Hollow. Sadly, the Lumber Consortium agents who run the town are not open to a diplomatic solution, and tensions remain high. We stand to learn much from the fey, both about their magical nature and the elusive First World. We could certainly benefit from a powerful ally in Darkmoon Wood as well. It is my desire that you do whatever you can to get the bottom of this plague and find a solution. We must show Syntira that the human race and their allies deserve her trust." She briefly pauses to look you over and see how you are reacting to this news.
"I believe it is possible the strange disease may originate from a cursed relic known as Isandrea’s Basin rumored hidden deep within Darkmoon Wood. If this theory proves accurate, my wish is for you to obtain the basin and bring it to me for study. I believe it most likely that someone or something has harnessed the artifact’s curse and is using it to kill off the fey."
She flips through some parchments and places one piece on top. She will occasionally glance at it as she tells you about the relic.
"This is my reason to suspect the basin." She glances at the parchment. "When humans first ventured into the untamed wilderness of Darkmoon Wood seeking sources of rare darkwood, many of the forest’s resident fey foresaw the coming feuds with settlers, explorers, and capitalist lumbermen. The territorial dryad Isandrea did more than just complain about the trespassers. She crafted a cursed basin to harm unsuspecting travelers trespassing in her secluded birch grove. Though the dryad has long since passed from the Wood, Isandrea’s Basin remains deep in the forest. Clean, cool water continually fills the vessel, but the basin’s tempting waters carry a deadly withering disease. Through the centuries, countless weary travelers have found themselves lost in the depths of Darkmoon Wood and stumbled upon the welcoming bowl only to wake the next morning covered in seething white pustules, as a wasting disease saps their energy. A quarter century ago, an unlucky Lumber Consortium scout named Lannig Mahesto happened across Isandrea’s Basin while searching for new sources of darkwood. He drank from the water and unknowingly carried the sickness back to his wife Anissa here in Falcon’s Hollow. In less than a week, both succumbed to the potent ailment, leaving their ten-year-old daughter Vondrella an orphan." Again, she pauses briefly to observe your reactions and hear any questions you may have.
"One Lumber Consortium logging camp in particular has been involved in several conflicts with the forest’s resident fey already. Both Syntira and I believe that starting your investigation at this cutyard will prove most productive. I will provide you a map to this location. Once you have located and identified the cause of the disease, seek Syntira herself and aid her in any way possible. We desperately need you now as the disease is quickly spreading, and we want to stop it before it gets out of hand.”
Mox's gaze settles upon Cirthana. Where is the child of Lannig, Vondrella, now? If she survived, why is the contagion returnin, but now only to fey?
Bulgard has been skulking in the corner, listening. He winked at Jeva when he came in, but kept his distance. The scent of his wolf surely clings to him and he doesn't know what it will do to Jeva. As to the question about Zevon, Bulgard simply shrugged as if to say, "who is Zevon?"
"Vondrella was last seen begging on the streets as a child. We know nothing of her since that time. We suspect someone or something has harnessed the curse of Isandrea’s Basin. This is only supposition on our part, but it does make sense. Perhaps fey are more susceptible to the disease, or humans have not been exposed due to locale. We will only learn more upon investigation."
A weaponized curse? Interesting. Perhaps the fey could be susceptible. Where do we begin the investigation?
"The lumber camp I just spoke of, Mox Decker. It is twenty miles by road to the trail that leads to the logging camp. It is another two miles down that trail to the camp. It should take you just over seven hours to get there. Rhen Vemsa, I bought a pony for Jeva that you are welcome to use. I am sorry that this one is not quite as attractive as the one Deldrin Baleson loaned you previously." She hands you a map pointing out the logging camp. Map to logging camp "Are there any other questions?
No. This is sufficient.
Mox affixes the mas back to his face and makes his way out of the church.
"O' it dun need ta be pretty, I mightin' have ta be buyin' a ram or big ol' battle hog ta ride round. This be the same camp we went ta before?" Rhen asks eyeing Mox