The party comes to a ragged stop along the road. The welcome breather also happens to bring a brief respite from the heavy rains. The clouds thin just enough to let a few patches of filtered sunlight shine through with one ray of warm light falling directly on the small, jauntily waving red flag as it flutters in the breeze marking the hole Aterro so conveniently found.
The damp air is filled with smells of the forest and salty, sea air while a small warbler sings from atop a nearby tree, close enough that its bright song is easily heard over the sound of the surf crashing against the nearby rocky shoreline.
Unfortunately, with the sighting of the sun's rays, comes the knowledge that it is much later in the day than first thought. Already it is well past its zenith. If you try to hurry, it is still possible that you could reach Vandersthal before night sets in. But the effort will certainly continue to takes it toll on some of the group. An easier, less taxing pace, will likely mean you arrive after dark, but maybe a bit less physically drained.
Finnigan listened intently to Zove, thinking these noble courts sound like likely imperial co-conspirators.
A young lady from a dangerous slum however was someone he could trust, even if she had horns... for now.
"Press on for sure," he winces through clenched teeth. "I'll never fall asleep in this mess without a drink. By the by did anyone bring a decent brandywine? My flask is empty and I never drink alone."
Ibrox sighs at the pestilence of the undead tick; it ruined the material.
He followed the group wondering why they traveled so fast. They must fear the night, unlike he did. Under the thick eaves of the forest, darkness prevailed most of the time.
He couldn't believe they weren't equipped for traveling. A set of nice leather boots do him fine. He just had to find the right donor.
The fey realm sounded amazing. Perhaps the key to breaking Baba Yaga's curse was there. This fey seemed to be a diplomat, but maybe she has a clue.
He easily kept pace with his long-legged companions, because they kept stopping to rest. He remembered the story of the rabbit and turtle. One became a bag and the other a soup. He wondered which one would falter and make a better pair of boots for another.
Trevor can't keep up, listen, and participate at the time. Fuelled by pride, he presses on and follows, but it taxes him to no extent. His boots are just too small, and he feels he might lose his toes, which are likely melting from the pressure, like rocks turned to molten lava.
Vindrel puts his head down, and concentrates on completing the trek. He closes his ears to the complaints and struggles of the others, and instead listens to the whispers of his ancestors goading him on and giving him inspiration (Spirit Whispers)
CON
CON (Advantage from Spirit Whispers)
After a tough trek through the mud and rain, the party finally tops a short rise that then dips gently into a small valley. Those in the lead stop at this vantage point, giving those who are struggling a chance to catch their breath or catch up as best they can on their sore, blistered feet. From here the road winds north down into the fertile, sheltered valley. A simple wooden bridge crosses a creek before the road continues up the other side of the valley, past a palisade, and further north to Nargenthal and beyond.
The creek waters are running very high along the banks, even occasionally washing over the wooden planks of the bridge. Flooded fields and a few areas of neatly planted trees line both sides of the creek in the upper section of the valley. The lower section, where the creek meets the ocean, ends in a natural cove that creates a small but relatively protected beach for a handful of tiny fishing boats that are staked high above the tide line along the sandy shore. Another boat sits caught in the rocks of the far side shore, likely run aground after being caught in an earlier tide.
The tiny steading of Vandersthal sits just across the bridge on the higher ground backing the north side of the valley. Like most communities in this region, it has a low wooden palisade to help keep out predators and deter raiders. However, while the palisade still stands, much of Vandersthal does not.
The early evening light reveals little, but it appears several buildings have collapsed or burnt down. Of the dozen or so obvious structures only three seem to remain standing within the whole valley, a mill located outside of the village palisade much further upstream, a longhouse and adjoining outbuilding within the palisade, and a shack near the shore.
Although the rain has stopped and appears to be clearing for now, the relief n is short lived, as there is no sign of the hoped for cook fires and welcoming ale. If fact there is no sign of the usual sounds or sights of cattle, chickens, or children that usually prevail in a place like this.
Trevor simply can't believe he made it. As he reaches the top, he pushes his helmet back and is about to comment on the last bit of climbing up with references to several gods and goddesses, but the sight strangles his words in his throat.
Eyes wet, he asks, hoping someone will answer negatively: "We're too late?"
”Let’s camp here and enter tomorrow morning. Some of you are in no condition to continue, let alone deal with any potential threats. Let’s make a fire that doesn’t cast light toward the beach or ruin, so we can maintain an element of surprise.” Ibrox spryly starts looking for a good spot.
Trevor helps as best he can to find a spot, but really all he does is check if it is dry enough and complain otherwise, until he realizes this is not appreciated. Then he just makes faces and sighs instead, making his socks squish wetly in his boots.
Ibrox finds a small site for himself, "Trollkin, you look more capable outside an inn than the rest of us."
Vrindel walks about with Brother Aterro's help in holding back bushes, and determining puddle depth to find a good camping spot.
Survival
Survival - Advantage
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Vrindel and Aterro manage to find a nearly perfect campsite a few hundred feet off the road. A good sized rock formation forms a small, sheltered cave located along a narrow deer trail through the forest. Several large trees keep the entrance dry, and provide enough fallen wood to allow for a fire. The final positive is that it seems to be quite uninhabited.
With a little help from the canvas and rope you received from Bentknee, Vrindel's camp is quickly the warmest, driest, and coziest camp the group has had since setting out from Courlandia. Much better than the bog Finnigan picked out that first night on the road, or the third day when the scout didn't get the ropes on the tents tight enough which turned the tarps into giant rain catchers. Things nearly turned ugly when the seam on Trevor's canvas split and flooded the sleeping knight in cold rain water.
But that is all in the past, this night, the camp's seclusion and ability to keep the fire hidden keeps wandering creatures from disturbing your rest or triggering Zove's protective spells. Everyone is able to eat a good meal and sleep warm and dry to wake the next morning feeling fully refreshed.
The dawn arrives with birds singing in the trees and the storm having finally blown itself out. But replacing the rain is a dense fog that moved in during the night reducing visibility to just a few hundred paces.
Ibrox rises early and sizes his companions up. How many pairs of boots or sheets of parchment that he could make with them? Which one appears to be the weakest of the herd? He smiles and nods at them with they recognize his attention.
After breakfast, "Ready to go? We should stick together and not get separated by the fog. If we are quiet, we could make our way there without being detected," the gnome in the redcap and infectious smile suggests.
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Brother Attero nods, happy that, between him and Vrindel, they make a pretty good team.
He rests peacefully and sleeps deeply, confident that in the morning he will be able to lead the charge and make up for the prior day's...setbacks.
"I feel splendid!" he says, strapping on his armor. "Where should we go first?"
Trevor goes on and on about how nice the place is and helps to set it up as best he can.
Then he puts his wet socks on little sticks which he plants in front of the fire to dry. The smell fills the cave. Trevor snickers.
The next morning, he puts his crispy socks with great delight, then stretches, does some exercises, but quickly gets bored, then asks about breakfast, the complains about breakfast.
Finally, he is ready to move. To Aterro, he replies: "We're going to the town, no?"
Finnigan stretches. "Already? I could do with another hour of sleep but alrite. What do you suppose happened to the town? Dwarves by the look of it."
When Ibrox eyeballs him he tries to size up the gnomes intentions.
Vrindel patted Brother Aterro on the shoulder, smiling broadly at his assistance. "Thank you comrade you made the search for a quality site much quicker and more elegant".
As usual, Vrindel was up with the sun, climbing to the top of one of the nearby rock outcroppings, and sitting until the sun was fully risen... or at least as much as it could rise with the heavy fog. He warily watches the gnome rise next. I've heard many rumors of the gnomes, considering my closeness to the fey... mostly suspicious ones, but he seems Okay so far... still I'll remain vigilant to his actions.
As the camp stirs to life, he joins the others, cheerfully smiling his snaggle tooth smile.
"Ibrox is correct. The fog presents a new challenge, make sure we keep the person in front of us in sight. Shall we head towards the village"?
The party breaks camp, some more reluctantly than others. Your clothing is again warm and dry, although the slight aroma of Trevor's socks still lingers in many of the items.
The road is still muddy despite the cessation of the rain, but after the previous day's struggles, the short walk down into the valley is easy and uneventful despite the heavy fog. Until you reach the creek and the wooden bridge. Simple in construction and about thirty feet long, it was clearly built to stay above the usual tides, but apparently not both tide and heavy flood. The flood waters and incoming tide have combined to partially submerge much of the little bridge. The water doesn't seem too deep, but it is moving quickly and the bridge itself seems to wobble and vibrate a bit unnervingly.
Trevor crouches to a place where he can sit and remain unseen, while he waits for better informed opinions on bridge safety. He was dry now, and had no intention of going wet again.
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Of the dozen or so obvious structures only three seem to remain standing within the whole valley, a mill located outside of the village palisade much further upstream, a longhouse and adjoining outbuilding within the palisade, and a shack near the shore.
"I mean, I would council that we first make way to the mill. 'Tis outside the palisade, and there may be survivors congregating inside. Such a structure might have been defensible, and would, by default, be stocked with provisions for some days."
As the group approaches the well-worn bridge, Aterro frowns. "I would not trust this bridge to hold an opinion, much less the weight of any of us. Lord Thor teaches us that there is strength in rocks, thus I would council that we toss some large rocks both in front and behind the supports of the bridge. That will break the momentum of the water in front, and then give more support to the creaking bridge behind."
Aterro looks around. "If we all work together it should not take too long. Or, at least, it will take less time than having to ford this deluge after the thing collapses."
"Rocks? Rocks should do it? Then point me to rocks and I'll carry them back here!" says Trevor, not sure how rocks would do the trick, but confident in his inability to judge.
Vrindel stands and looks at the questionable bridge for a moment absentmindedly rubbing his stubbly chin.
"The span only seems to be about 30'. Perhaps we could send the lightest among us across with a rope. If they make it they can secure it to the other side, and we could secure at this side... maybe even two ropes. If the bridge gives way we could pull them back with the same rope".
Vrindel removes his pack, and starts to dig out his hemp rope.
"Once we have the ropes secured we could use them to catch ourselves if the bridge gives way. Perhaps we could even use another rope to tie around the individual's waist when crossing held by the strongest of us so that should they slip we can reel them back in".
Ibrox arches an bushy orange eyebrow at the fey's jest with face of incomprehension. Then, the conversation passes.
Then, the trollkin suggests to use him as bait. "Wait, what? 'Send the lightest among us across with a rope'? Sounds like you want to go fishing with gnome bait. I'm with Thor's man. Is there somewhere else to explore until the tide goes out?"
"I mean, I would council that we first make way to the mill. 'Tis outside the palisade, and there may be survivors congregating inside. Such a structure might have been defensible, and would, by default, be stocked with provisions for some days."
"This seems sound. At least we will have some hope of getting more information before we stroll up to a palisade wall not knowing who is behind it. What do you suppose happened? Those reaver dwarves mentioned in the letter? I wonder if Britta is even alive to receive her shipment..."
Coming to the bridge, Finnigan sees Trevor getting ready to assist Brother Attero with a plan involving large stones. Seeing Zove thoughtfully making measurements and calculations, he gets the feeling the Shadow Fey may have some idea what she is doing.
"Oy, you two lugs! Look here, the ambassador from the starry court has some expertise in these matters, or so it seems. Zove, what say you?"
Trevor immediately dumps the huge rock he was carrying and walks back to the bridge.
"I am fine with your solution if it is viable, and doesn't take all day. People could be bleeding out even as we speak. Just trying to find a faster way across rather than reinforcing the bridge. I would be willing to be the first to cross. I am the heaviest, so if I make it we should be good. Just make sure you tie me off to something firm, and be ready to pull me back if things go wrong".
As you consider the groups current predicament, it also strikes you that Bentknee and his wagons will need to cross here as well and the little bridge certainly won't take the weight of the fully loaded wagons. It would take some time, likely a full day or two, but you can already see where the extra braces and supports could be placed to stabilize the structure once the water level drops to a more reasonable level.
It takes a few minutes and a couple of tries but eventually Vrindel is able to throw the rope across to Zove who quickly ties it off to one of the still solid pilings.
"Right. Let's not waste any more time. My faith is firm, or strong, and I'm big, so let me hold the rope, right? As for Bentknee, can't we just leave a sign for him? Telling him not to cross the bridge?" Trevor says, then helps the others cross, holding firm to the rope, even if it is attached.
When his turn comes, he asks Khors not to send him in the drink.
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"I am certain that Bentknee is an intelligent man, and will no doubt come up with some plan that does NOT involve him driving a wagon train straight into an onrushing tide.
If we have time, we can always come back and help. But if we do not, I have faith that it will be due to a worthy cause."
That said, Brother Aterro goes next, muscles bulging and faith strong that Lord Thor will NOT want him to make a fool of himself in front of everyone.
Not after...yesterday.
Vindrel is a bit nervous about the crossing. He was not a fan of water when he couldn't see the bottom. Rain, and bathing were OK, even shallow puddles, but this was a different matter. He took off his boots and hung them on his pack, thinking his clawed toes might make for a better purchase. Then he had a thought.
He then closes his eyes, asks the spirits to guide him, and starts across.
Athletics
Athletics: Advantage
And his worries come to truth, as he feels his feet slipping...
Finnigan is starting out behind Vrindel when he sees the trollkin slipping. He tries to reach out and clasp his hand.