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Allison points at Fin and winks. "Natch."
"Hence. And as far as heroes? Let's see," she digs out a notebook from her coveralls and a stick of charcoal. She flips through a few pages before coming to an entry, and she starts to read.
"A certain village you might be familiar with was taken over by the Stone Dwarves clan of the Iron Fang tribe of reavers. Their ship, the Dripping Hammer, was docked in port, horrific losses, blah blah blah, slave trade, yadda yadda. Ah, here we go.
Several newcomers seen entering building...cleric exits shortly thereafter...that night a two-sided melee ensues, half the reavers die at the docks, half in the town, the ship has damage from fire and ice...aaaaaand the leader, in full few of the townfolk, takes a hostage, but gives him up willingly and is hung from his own yardarm."
She snaps the book shut and stuff it back in a pocket.
"Sounds like hero work to me!" she ends with a smile.
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Wraith turns over to Trevor.
"And what can I do? Hmmmmm."
She's still smiling, and silently digs into a belt pouch. She comes up with a small and roughly-hewn wooden square, like a block a child might play with.
She glances up to smile at Trevor before looking down at the block. Her fingers stroke it over slightly...and it turns a bright, brilliant, beautiful canary yellow.
She winks at Trevor and the yellow fades. She brings it up to her mouth, smiles at Trevor again, and whispers to the small block.
She holds it out to him, favoring him with a bright smile.
"For you," she says sweetly.
"For your pure heart."
As soon as the block touches his hand, a loud voice yells out: "Help! I'm not really Trevor! My name is Roger and Trevor is a vampire that stole my soul! Kill me before I kill again!
Help! I'm not really Trevor! My name is Roger and Trevor is a vampire that stole my soul! Kill me before I kill again!
Help! I'm not really...."
The message continues as long as he holds it.
Allison giggles.
Trevor refuses the block: "I'm sorry, miss, but I don't know you... And, if I must be frank, I don't trust you. Yet. We are cursed, still, and you may very well be that witch who's out for our skin!"
The gnome shakes his head at the picking on Trevor and jumps to his feet with his wide genuinely cheerful smile. "Well, Trevor and Vrindel, we were going to Nargenstal anyway. Been away longer than we expected. Let's get walking."
"Maybe, this Allison can befriend us by the time we reach the village."
"Finn, you ready to go? Fill your boots." The gnome motions with a broad sweep of his hand toward the cheeses, bread, honey, fruits, nuts, vegetables and even some roasted meat which are set out on a finely carved wooden table. A fat weasel falls of the table near the meats.
Vrindel remains strangely silent during the entire encounter. He certainly doesn't trust this newcomer... and though he often questions the actions of his remaining comrades... especially the missing Arterro's, he never doubts their loyalty.
"Trevor. That was a decision I must agree with. Your parents must have taught you to never accept candy from strangers. And Ibrox... you are correct. Though I'm not a fan of life in cities, I must admit I am anxious to see the friends I've made there. Let us depart".
He then turns to the Dryad. "Thank you for all that you and your sister have done for us. If you are ever in need, just send word. Hopefully my apprentice will join you soon, and the friendship between the people of the wood and the people of the village can become an everlasting mutually rewarding relationship".
Vrindel will take up the rear of the procession, keeping a close eye on this self proclaimed savior and friend.
With the midday nearly come and gone, everyone is eager to begin the journey back to the village. Farewells are shared with Illarya and the dryad watches you depart with her pipe smouldering away as she returns to tending her glade.
The return trip, as is so often the case, seems to go much quicker than it did on the way out. The purple flowers of the great meadow are no threat as spring has long since come and gone. The partially buried wreckage of the ship and skeletal remains of the hydra give another truth to the passage of time beyond what Ibrox, Trevor, and Vrindel all experienced.
But it isn't until the group tops the northern rise of Nargenstal and look once again down upon the quiet little hamlet that the depth of what has happened truly hits home for the trio. The wall has been expanded out to encircle several new buildings and runs along the shore side of the village as well. Two new docks jut out into the little harbor. A midsized trader sits tied up at one, while the former reaver vessel is docked at the other. The once battered and damaged ship is completely rebuilt and appears ready to sail.
Soldiers in the red and gold livery of Courlandia stand guard at the gates, spear tips gleaming in the sun as it sinks toward the western sea. The Frost Maiden still stands as the tallest, largest building in town along with the great barn. But numerous new shacks and longhouses including an ugly square barracks building fill the interior of the stockade while other huts have been built up outside the walls.
Several fields grow tall with wheat, corn, beans, and other food. The skeletal structure of a new windmill stands just south of the village where villagers and reavers once fought. Workers surround the structure and the sound of hammers, saws and shouting echo throughout the area.
Smoke drifts inland from the rebuilt smithy and the charcoal makers fires along the beach. A pair of heavily loaded carts bring new cut timbers from the eastern woods, each being inspected by guards as it enters through the main gate.
But more overwhelming than anything else is the smell. With so many more people and little infrastructure for dealing with them, the village reeks of people and their waste. A brown sludge swirls along the bay shore and a growing hill of refuse sits just south of the wall attracting birds and likely many other scavengers.
Finnigan waves a hand at the growing, bustling village. "Well, there she is lads. Home sweet home at last."
"We've been away so long..." Trevor says as he takes in the transformation, and the smell...
"Right, let's just hope there's room for us at the inn. I could use a meal and some ale! And yoy say Owyn'll be there, so I say we make haste and dive in quickly. I bet we'll get used to the smell in no time at all!" he offers.
Vrindel nods at some familiar faces as he enters the village, but is surprised with how many are unfamiliar to him. And the charm of this unassuming quiet village has been replaced with the stink of civilization.
Won't be spending much time here.
He does however go looking for Maryanne to say his hello's and make sure that she and her mother are doing well, so at the first opportunity he makes for their farm.
The size and maturity of the village exceeds the gnomes expectations. He gathers his emotional shock before meeting anyone or entering the village proper.
He follows behind Finnigan and ahead of Trevor and Vrindel cheerfully smiling to everyone as if he was arriving home. He makes a point to cheerfully greet everyone, humanoid and beast. Instead of the cheerful 'hello' he shares to the humanoids, he telepathically says 'hello' to the beasts exchanging names if they are so inclined. To those familiar faces, the gnome tips his redcap in deference, enjoying the lack of fear that removing it once had.
He maintains his Detection of Magic to survey the scene.
Despite Vrindel splitting off, he follows Finnigan to the Frost Maiden and Britta Gleamgaurd who he would warmly greet.
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"I know! Isn't it great?" Allie chirps cheerfully at the signs of civilization.
"I know its a little small for right now, but I'm sure with time and the greater increase in Gross Domestic Product that comes with being on the Front Lines of the Counter-Attack, it'll get bigger until it can finally be something worth being proud of!" she continues.
As the folk make their way into the inn, Wraith chirps up, as if she had forgotten something important until now.
She takes out her charcoal and notebook.
"Oh, one last thing. While you were prosecuting your guerrilla war against the reaver scourge and corrupt evil magic...
...are you now, or did you ever, encounter any undead or agents of the undead empire?" she says, her charcoal tapping out a quick rhythm on her writing pad.
Trevor looks at the artificer incredulously and shakes a finger at her: "I said I didn't trust you. I'm not going to tell you anything until your true purpose is revealed." The long walk had taken its toll and his toes were taking all the patience he had, which was not much already.
The transformation Nargenstal from quiet hamlet to frontier town is even more stark and striking once inside the walls. The streets are a narrow warren of pathways cutting between new and old buildings alike. The once open central yard and common area is stuffed with a rebuilt smithy ringing the pounding of hammers and smelling of smoke from the ever-burning furnace. The massive barn has been turned into a guarded warehouse filled with timber, iron bars, food, drink, rope, sails, pitch, and numerous other goods. The ugly barracks sits next to the barn and where a pair of village longhouses once stood. Another longhouse has clearly been turned into some kind of saloon and gambling house judging from the sounds coming from inside and the number of passed out drunks laying in the gutter outside.
Being in the company of Finnigan and Allison seems to get everyone past the gate guards easily enough, although they look upon both Ibrox and Vrindel with suspicion. Familiar faces are impossible to find among the rough and rowdy mix of soldiers, builders, and 'enterprising entrepreneurs' who always seem to set up shop in any boom town environment.
For a moment Trevor thinks his spots Owyn bumping into a big carpenter, but the boy has grown at least a handspan since the paladin last saw him and the youthful innocence harbors a look that a bit tougher and hard then it was a year ago. In fact, the knight can't be sure because he was leaning down to adjust his boot, but he would almost swear he spotted the youth pluck the carpenter's pouch from his belt before he dashed off around a corner.
Stepping into the Frost Maiden, you find the place packed and smelling of pipe smoke, ale, and hardworking folk on a hot summer evening. Tables full, bar full, and standing room only. A tired looking Rosemary works the bar as fast as she can, helped by another burly looking brute with a long mustache and scar running up his thick right arm. A trio of young serving girls dodge patrons and carry food and drink to the rowdy crowd while a band of three with more enthusiasm than talent entertain in a corner.
Cheers and warm greetings are shouted when Finnigan enters. Rosemary gives him a tired wave but then dives back into serving drinks.
Not one for crowds and walls, Vrindel slips off to find Maryanne.
"By the gods, I thought your were dead or had left us for good!" She exclaims, her eyes watering as she brushes back her hair.
After a few moments she steps back and looks up at the druid sadly and then off toward the sound of axes and saw felling trees in the forest. "I tried to do my best to save the trees, but no one would listen to me. And then mother and I were moved out...Oh Vrindel! I've missed you and it's all so awful!" She suddenly breaks into tears, an array of bottled emotions bursting for from a dam that has held since your disappearance.
Speaking with animals is less informative in the past. The few you see as you pass into town are some caged chickens who just speak in panicked whispers or maddened fear of the coming axe. A few rats enjoying the delicacies of the growing trash heap. A pair of big sullen, watchful mastiffs who patrol the docks with their equally taciturn soldiers. A pair of crows gossip over the main gate, but there isn't enough time to chat with them or get their attention before the guards are hustling you past.
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"OH YOU DUMB PALADIN I SHOWED YOU PAPERS AND A LETTER OF MARQUE WHAT IS IT YOU WANT FROM MEEEEEE?!?!?!?!?!?" Wraith emits as Trevor appears to willfully disregard all other evidence in favor of a rather inconvenient mental stance.
'Well, this does conform to most of what I heard. But they never said he was an obsessive-compulsive paranoid schizophrenic. Better report that.'
Stepping into the Frost Maiden, Allison visibly brightens. She's a creature of the city, and she misses the packed populace, dirty air, sprawling buildings, and cavernous libraries back home.
"Oy! Kara! Brings us a jug ever half hour 'til one of us passes out. Then bring one every 45 minutes!"
Settling into her seat, she takes out a plain quart-jug.
"Did you see that pile of garbage outside? Disgusting isn't it? They still haven't designated a town dump yet. Haven't chosen a site.
But, hopefully, with this little baby they won't have to!
I have a theory that, if we were given infinite amount of a cleaning agent, like, say, vinegar, we could just pour it over the trash and have it wash out into the bay, as clean as they day it was purchased!
I mean, I don't "quite" have it down to produce infinite amounts yet. I can get 2 gallons, though!" She seems quite proud of her accomplishment. Although how 2 gallons can come from a quart jug is not yet apparent.
Trevor's mood darkens. He does not know if it was Owyn he saw. And if it was, he does not know what to do about it, which was worse.
And he does not like being called dumb. He does not know what to make of that woman, who seems intent of bossing them around because of some dubious pieces of paper. She is rude and dangerous, he thinks to himself. And loud.
He does not follow Wraith. He instead looks for Finn. Everyone looks like a stranger, so Finn it is. Once he finds him, or his wife if not, he asks: "Tell me more about Owin. What else did I miss?"
The gnome shakes his head at the envoy's reaction to Trevor. She's really not good at making friends.
Looking for a place to stand, he asks his companion, "Hey Finn, where's Britta?" Then, he gets bumped by a patron like he wasn't even there. They're not used to looking down. Then again, by someone who didn't even act tipsy. And his cheerful smile reduces causing him to announce, "Finn, I'll wait outside. Please come get me when you get us a table."
The gnome heads back outside into the hustle and bustle of the growing village. He finds a comfortable section of the Frost Maiden's wall to lean against and watches the populace go by wondering how long he wants to stay here and looking for anything interesting.
@Maryanne>>
"There, there. I'll admit I'm a bit dismayed at the changes in the town myself, but from my experience anytime there is commerce involved then the stink of civilization soon follows. How is your Mother? Where are you two living now, I noticed your longhouse is no longer used by your family"?
The trollkin hesitantly returns the hug, as it's something he's not used to doing, and doesn't want to hurt the girl with his embrace.
"Can you take a walk with me or are you being forced to continue your work here? I can help if you'd like".
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"Britta?" Finn replies when Ibrox asks about the Frost Maiden's owner. "Well, she didn't get on real well with the new mayor, governess, or whatever it is she calls herself. Also didn't seem to take well to the sudden uptick in business." He snorts and shakes his head in bewilderment. "Woman apparently has an aversion to making money." He adds sitting down at one of the card games, tossing a small bag of coin down on the table next to his flagon of ale. Deal me in Reverand." He adds nodding to a tall, lanky human with dark hair, dark eyes, and the clothing of an easterner. Most likely Vidim or somewhere in the Rothenian Plain. A symbol of Perun dangling from a leather thong around his neck.
Finnigan turns back to Ibrox. "Where was I? Oh yes, Britta. Well, as I said, she weren't happy with the changes around here. Kept having bad dreams and visions of weird mushroom looking folk or ghoulish undead. Said something was wrong, so come spring she packed her things gave the keys to Rosemary, and went off to the mountains east of here." He pauses, rubs his chin in thought. "You lots disappearance never set real well with her. She searched for weeks, most of that summer. Found some rundown inn and a lot of bodies, but never any further sign of you. Figured maybe the goblins got you, or something bigger, meaner. Always talked of visiting some recluse out there in the wild to help her find some answers." He shrugs, starting to pick up the cards as the one he called Reverend deals them out. "Guess she's still looking for him or maybe something got her. Never did like wandering around in these woods. Bugs, drakes, whole dang place is one big death trap if you ask me." He takes a big swig of ale and draws another card. Seeing the three of swords, he curses and tosses in his hand. "Blast you Rev, gimme some real cards next time around."
Finnigan looks askance at Allison as she waves her jug around talking of trash disposal and infinite amounts of vinegar. "Seems if you can make an unlimited amount of something, I'd prefer a good Zobeckeer Stout myself. But to each their own I always say."
"As for the boy Owyn, he's a quick lad, like I said. Has good hands." He adds with a chuckle and a proud smile. "Boy could lift the pollen off a honey bee without her knowing it. Some real talent there. I've kept him under my wing though so he doesn't get in too much trouble. Rosemary's always saying I should teach the boy a craft, and so I am. Only one I really know." He adds with a hardy laugh clapping Trevor on the back and returning to his cards.
As you sit and watch the guards break up one rapidly devolving fight between a half dozen sailors and an equal amount of carpenters, you notice that same pair of crows watching from atop the old barn building. Unlike normal birds, these seem to take a keen interest in the fight. More puzzling is when the guards start to move in, one of them looks up at the pair of black birds. One of them appears to nod to the guard and he gives the order to rush in and subdue the miscreants with blades drawn and shields raised. The result is two dead and four others hauled off to the central barracks. Once the fight is over and done, the crows fly off with a series of caws that are almost like laughter.
Trevor fakes a laughter and, after a pause, excuses himself and walks outside. For an hour he walks, half lost in despair, half taking in the transformation.
He walks until he finds a quiet place a few throws out of reach of the harbour, a small outcrop looking over the sea. He sits there and listens to the gulls laughing at him. Everything had turned sour while they were stuck in time, or so it seemed. Owyn had chosen a hard path, and Britta was missing. He didn't know what to make of the town's transformation, but it looked not like what the survivors would have wanted...
The survivors.
Trevor gets up, determined, and goes back in town to look for each of the women who survived the reavers, to see what they made of this mess. That would perhaps give him clarity. But first, he goes to look for Ibrox and Vrindel to see if they'd wish to come with him.
Trevor or others find the gnome perched atop an empty ale barrel out of the way and around the corner from the inn. After discovering Britta had not returned after looking for them and leaving due to the new village leadership, the inn did not feel like home anymore. He watches the crowds wondering what was really going on here, like a hunter in a blind.
He could not wait to share the behavior that he witnessed of the crows with Trevor and Vrindel. There were unnatural forces of evil at work in the village. Finn said that there was a 'new mayor, governess, or whatever it is she calls herself'. Britta did not get along with her. Should he jump to the conclusion that they had discovered where the witch had gone? Was this their second test?
Does his experience with the witch have him jumping at shadows? Was he initially condemning all strange, strong women as potential witches? Or just the evil ones?
The paladin and others find Ibrox without his characteristic cheerful smile and in deep thought watching the crowds and village from his perch.
Vrindel pitches in with the farming, helping out, and working up a sweat. If felt good to perform honest labor. When they were finished he again sat down with the young lady, and began to speak.
"I might know of a place. It's a bit wild, and the journey there can be dangerous, but there was once a thriving inn there, and I believe that you could take your mother, and perhaps Hildugun, and any others misplaced and rebuild it. In fact there is a dryad there who we rescued, and who would be willing to help you become a master of the wild. Perhaps you could speak with your mother and friends, and I'll speak with my friends. Can we meet at your hut tonight to discuss?. We will bring food".
The young woman listens to Vrindel's suggestion, her eyes growing wide with excitement and sparkling once again with hope. She hugs the trollkin again, unconcerned about his discomfort with such affection.
"Oh that sounds wonderful!" She says, her face beaming and a little awestruck when a dryad is mentioned. "I...I'm not sure I'm worthy of a fae's knowledge, but I'll do my best and work hard to make you proud." She says. "And you know me and the others aren't afraid of hard work. I bet we get that place fixed up in no time."
"I can't wait to tell mother and the others. She'll grumble, but I know she wants to leave here. So do most of the others, even Rosemary. She's only minding the inn because Britta trusted her to and she doesn't want to let her down if she comes back." She stops and suddenly sobers as if hit with a bucket of cold river water.
"I don't know if the commander will let us go." She says. Worry and a bit of fear filling her features. "She says we're free to leave whenever we want, but we're not allowed to take more than a half days worth of food from the stores and certainly no weapons. No one can afford passage on the ships that come in." She smacks a fist into her palm. "We might as well be prisoners or slaves of the reavers again. But I guess we can talk about that later."
She leans in a gives Vrindel a quick peck on the cheek and then hurries off to gather the others.
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"That could be cleansing too!" Allie rejoinders, thinking about the request.
She comes to an internal decision, adjusts a few jew-jaws and dew-dads on the jug, and fills his mug to the brim with Zobeckeer Stout.
"I never can turn down a request," she adds with a friendly wink.
She checks over her notes and finally gets up. "I gotta find the mayor and report that my mission was "technically" a success.
But they didn't seem to encounter any undead, so I guess for the meantime we're still pretty safe."
Finn beams at the full mug of stout. "if I weren't already married, you'd have one my heart with that little trick." He says taking a long swallow. "Ahhhhh! Khor's blood! That's a welcome taste after months of that pale swill we've been getting here."
At the mention of the mayor, Finn grows quiet and a bit somber. "Yes, well...hehheh...safe as anyone can be out here on the frontier I suppose. My regards to her ladyship." He says taking another long swig and turning his attention back to the card game.
Trevor searches the town for those original residents who survived the reaver attack and welcomed him and his friends so warmly. But most of the faces he spots are new, rough, gruff faces or hard men. Mercenaries and soldiers, sailors, and laborers seeking strong drink and one of the few women willing to give up their favors for a days wages. The price of a few thrilling minutes an obvious product of simple supply and demand. The paladin sees more than a few fights over such things which often end in blood. But he doesn't see anyone he recognizes except Ibrox perched and watching the comings and goings.
Gathering the gnome into his search, the two venture outside the wall and into the ramshackle buildings and tents nearer the fields and further up the little valley.
It is here that he finds the old women Hildigunn and Maryanne's mother, Fastvi sitting mending fishing nets and cleaning dirt from a basket of freshly harvested potatoes. Old Hildigunn stares at the knight for several seconds, before leaning back and setting her nets down, a look of surprise upon her face.
"Well now lad. Didn't think I'd ever see you again. Thought you and your lot had run off and got yourselves killed or struck it rich and set off for easier lives." She says.
Moments later the young woman, Maryanne comes running up. Breathless and excited. "Mother! Grandmother Hildi! I've got exciting news." She says and then stops seeing Trevor and Ibrox. "Oh! Well that was fast, did Vrindel talk to you already?" She asks Trevor and Ibrox, clearly surprised to find the two standing at her door already.
Vrindel is as surprised as Maryanne at the presence of his companions.
"Place has changed a bit huh"?
Vrindel shyly nods at Fastvi.
"I was just explaining to Maryanne about the ruins of the Inn, and how if they're not happy here, perhaps they could task themselves with bringing the Inn back to use. With the help of the fey there perhaps the reputation of your fare could overcome the off the path location".
"Great idea. We need to get out here as soon as possible. Today if possible." The gnome called Ibrox replies more serious than you usually see his cheerful demeanor.
"I think that previous innkeeper moved here after we evicted her." He speaks in code to Trevor and Vrindel to avoid using the witch word in front the others, or at least the little girl.
"I saw a pair of crows giving orders to the local, red-uniformed guards to violently subdue a fisticuffs. We need to protect these people, before we face our second test." His idea that the witch is the new lady governor is becoming more and more comfortable to explain what he is seeing.
Arriving at the barracks, your credentials and familiar enough face get you past the stony faced human guards and into the officers quarters. Commandant Borgia's secretary, an unassuming corvid that goes by the name Tatterfeather. Proabably because of the disheveled look, like she'd just barely escaped an encounter with a hungry lion, that she always seems to have. Yet, despite appearances, she seems organized enough and greets you with a friendly welcome.
"Ah! Wraith, good to see you again. It'll be a moment, she's in with Captain Durang." She says her head tilting toward the closed door of the commanders office and quarters just beyond her little, well ordered desk. "I hear you met with success and were able to find our local wayward heroes."
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"Oh hey Tat's," Allie said, liking the woman for her direct manner and everyman look. Wraith liked 'real' people who had no time for dancing or game playing.
"Pssssh. Meh. Technically.
I found their corporeal forms...most of them...but I fear that their minds have...suffered from the ordeal.
The paladin is suffering from some kind of textbook skitzoid delusion where everyone is out to get him and if he's at all useful to any but his own enigmatic whims, he's somehow helping the 'forces of evil'. I asked for their report and he all but drew down on me.
I really didn't like him distrusting me for no reason. But I just keep in mind that he's caught in a permanent paranoid delusion and it makes it easier.
The gnome just isn't good at making friends. Not quite as bad as the paladin, but he maintains that his master isn't some sort of world-eating monstrosity, even though he mentioned that they already met one of its spawn, and then did, indeed, save the world. Maybe a kind of projection?
The druid is the most druidy druid that ever druided. Not really there most of the time, and more concerned with the health of grass than of getting me up to speed on where they were or what they were doing.
That's all I could find. They didn't deign to fill me in on what happened to the other two, so we'll just mark them as 'dead--whereabouts unknown' and have done.
I guess I'll just have to fight this war on my own."
Trevor listens to the others and nod gravely, but most of the hints fly above his head: "The town is not on a good path, but what can we do about it? Ban crows? Get a new mayor? Just relocate to that forsaken inn!? I don't see it... I don't see anything! And that new girl who showed up? Finn brought her, but I'm not sure we can trust Finn either. He's changed! How did we lose so many months in so little time?!"
"As always Trevor, we do what we can. What's right in front of us. So, step one is to escort these ladies to the inn and the dryad. It saves them and potentially provides a place for Britta to return." The gnome replies to the paladin.
"Then we return to town to see what next needs done. Climb a mountain, one step at a time. Kill a hydra, one head at a time."
"All agreed? Let's get backed and gone."
Trevor nods: "Ok, let's get them to the dryad first then. We can talk about the next steps afterwards, on our way back."
Before you can reply, a tall elf strides out of the commandant's office wearing the red and blue of the Courlandian Navy. He strides by with a simple nod to the secretary and barely a look at you, his thoughts clearly elsewhere as he passes through the outer door.
"Well, that's convenient." Tatterfeather says and waves you into the office of the Red Queen's official representative in the Northern Wilds.
You step through into a tidy, well organized office with a small desk, chair, a pair of oil lamps. A large map of the Bay of Ghed and surrounding area hangs upon the wall, pinned with various markers. A smaller map of the region along the stretch of coast surrounding Nargenthal hangs next to its larger cousin. It's impossible to notice that much of the area inland from the coast and into the mountains is simply labeled as 'unknown and potentially hostile.'
The woman sitting behind the desk wears the uniform of the Courlandian Red Guard. The small gold star on her collar marking her a commander of a one hundred man cohort. Belt and traditional saber hang within easy reach as she finishes sorting some papers while you settle in.
Her eyes are a bright green, her hair a short cropped auburn. She leans back in her chair and pulls out a small tobacco pouch. "Whiteangel wasn't it?" She says, sprinkling the tobacco into a bit of paper then rolling it into a neat and tidy cylinder. "I didn't expect you back so soon. Did you manage to find that wayward band of mercenaries you were looking for? Did they have any information that will help us ferret out any of those blasted grayskins?" Grayskins being a term you recall her using in reference to the ghouls, ghasts, and other denizens of the Underworld Empire.
Lighting the cigarette with the flame of her oil lamp, she leans her thin, muscular frame back in the chair a blows out a heavy cloud of smoke as she waits for your answer.
"Do you mean that old inn a day or so north of Hag Point?" Hildigunn says, tapping her walking stick on the ground a couple of times and shaking her head. "Well that won't do at all. Place is cursed. Haunted. Full of bad juju." She says. Her eyes questioning the sanity of Ibrox and Trevor for even mentioning such a place. "Was a time that place weren't so bad, but then it was hit with all kinds of bad luck and death. Nargenstal may not be what we wanted, but I'll take my chances here."
Maryanne turns to the old woman. "But grandmother Hildigunn, Vrindel and his friends say they've defeated the curse and now it'll be a safe place for us to go. Away from war and soldiers and noise, just like we were before." She turns to Trevor, Vrindel and Ibrox. "Go ahead, tell them it'll be safe."
Vrindel smiles at the joy of Maryanne, then his big ugly troll features draw into a look of worry.
"I think it's safe now... but perhaps we should travel there first... you know just to make sure we didn't miss anything. We'll leave in the morning and be back quickly. Gives you time to get your affairs in order and all that as well. For now we are tired from all the travel and need to rest".
Later as the group travels back to town.
"Perhaps we should assess the other tunnel we found. Don't want any ghouls sneaking up on these innocents. Maybe that 'Wraith' creature might be of some use for that with here constant harping on undead. I might be able to put up with her unbearable arrogance for a bit if she proves useful".
Trevor, again, nods, but he also frowns and says: "Might be me, but Vrindel's point about the tunnel made me think. You know, he's right, we still have to figure those out. I recall we were debating whether to explore them or not. With all that has happened with the mushrooms, we kind of forgot about it, but the problem remains, so we need to get there first, on our own, and resolve it. See it finished. That also made me think... Whoever wants this town a better place cannot just go and hope to build a new life a day's away. The town will reach them eventually. It's like me here. I'm away, yes, but my goal is to return and make my home a better home, my country a better country. Fleeing is for when all hope is lost. Is all hope lost? So fast? I think not! I think we can still save this town from itself!"
He pauses, now confused with himself: "So I guess what I'm saying is: we need to decide between fixing the tunnels and fixing the town first..."
"I'm good with either first: tunnels or the town." The gnome replies.
"But, we need to be careful in town. I believe the former innkeeper has put down roots here. And she would have many more servants here than at the inn." He continues to speak in code in deference to Maryanne.
"And many of those servants may not realize the influence of the former innkeeper. Like that Wraith person. So again, we need to be careful."
"Well you all know my opinion. I'm not prepared nor comfortable with putting this town through a war again. Especially since we're not sure who all the players are or their agendas. I say we get big Clankity-Clank and head back to the tunnels to see if we can figure out what's happening there".
Trevor is about to give Vrindel some push back, but he pauses. He respected the druid's perspective and if he suggested a course of action, then that course was worth considering, even if it involved involving the volatile Allison.
"Erm... Right. Clankity-Clank... You mean that girl, yes? Is this one of those 'keep your enemies closer' kind of philosophy? Or perhaps you see something I don't?" he asks, trying not to sounds blatantly against the suggestion.
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Wraith spent a moment studying the map while the commander rolled her cigaro. Allie was a creature that liked to keep things tidy, and this map was the exact opposite of a tidy situation. She kept trying to task her mind with a strategy to roll the whole thing up from one end to anther, but her brain kept running into natural landmarks.
She started to understand why the re-conquest was needed to happen piecemeal.
"See, the thing about that is," she replies, letting her thoughts catch up, trying to meld reality with some data that could be of use.
"Yeah, I 'found' them. Most of them. But, alas, they've not come out of the experience unscathed. Mostly they suffer from a group-wide paranoid delusion, while the human of their group has a boderline psychosis episode. He still doesn't trust me. Indeed, he seems more certain I'm an enemy agent!
Of the filthy Greyskins they simply refused to answer. Hence, since they -must- realize how important that data is, it's more likely they have not encountered any.
So we're safe. For the now.
It seems like they reduced some stronghold of local evil--some kind of inn that was a running a typical Tourist Trap. But it was probably just some hermit's stronghold and not connected to the threat at large.
I mean, if it was, they would've said something, of course.
As soon as they got to town they scattered to the four winds, probably into the arms of local lovers or other pleasures of the flesh.
We can keep trying to roll them into the Greater Good, but I simply don't think we can count on them. I'd close the case file.
Orders?"
"Stronghold of evil..." She says, her mind working as words start to emerge. "The latest reports from the capital say that an outbreak of undead in Zobeck and Courlandia may have been caused by some sort of crystal substance. A sweet that looks like candy, but if ingested results in the victim becoming a flesh hungry ghoul." She grabs a little tin sitting on the corner of her desk. She opens it revealing a single red crystal and seems to glow with its own inner light. "Take a look. Stuff is deadly. Intelligence says these things were traveling the dark roads from somewhere in the north. Could be in our region, maybe not." See puts the lid back on the tin and leans forward.
"Now your probably right, in that these mercenaries may not be of much use to us in the long run." Her tone marks her distrust of those who make their livings as wandering adventurers. "But this stronghold, they found and supposedly cleared out. I want it and them checked out completely. It could be they're spies, co-opted by the grayskins. Could also be they didn't really clear the place out. Locals couldv'e been working with the empire and if this stuff really did come from up here, I want it stopped. Someone's stirring up trouble up here. I've had to increase security measures and crack down a bit because warehouse goods have gone missing along with several workers. The overcrowding makes it tough to keep the peace, but we can manage unless a bunch of that stuff lands in the wrong hands."
Her eyes peer straight into yours, a look that has seen death on the battlefield more than once, not too mention stared into the eyes of her dragon queen and walked away all the stronger because of it. Her chin nods toward the tin.
"We want whoever did this." She says, her voice cold and deadly. "Word is that someone ground the stuff up into powder and sprinkled in cookies and sweets then handed it out to children." She closes her eyes and swallows hard. "Guard had to put down a dozen eight to ten year old ghouls before they traced it back to the source. Some bakery in the city. The baker of course was found dead, half eaten."
"Find out what those people know and if you can check out this stronghold they found. And if you can get them on our side all the better." She starts rolling another smoke. "Gods know we can use the help these days."
Hildigunn nods as Vrindel and the others debate next steps. The old woman starts to speak but then she's interrupted by series of wracking coughs that leaves her breathless and hunched over. Maryanne hurries to her side offering a bit of water, but the old woman waves her off with a tired wave.
"I'll be alright child, just need a bit of my tea." She says pulling a small pouch out of her dress pocket. Pouring the contents into a mug this time she accepts the hot water from the kettle over fire that Maryanne pours.
The tea smells of mint, lavender, camomile, and tangy licorice root as it steeps and steams.
Hmmmm...I'll need to get a bit more from that Tutpine woman tomorrow." Hildigunn says feeling the weight of the nearly empty pouch. "Stuff has worked wonders for me ever since I came down with that sickness last winter." She adds, sticking the pouch back into her pocket.
"Oh Yes!" Pipes up Maryanne. "Jeezie Tutpine was a godsend to us last winter." She says, turning to Vrindel and the others. "Another refugee from raiders. She arrived with a few others who decided to settle here before the solders showed up. Helped us deal with a nasty fever and chest ailment that was working through the village. Mother and I were lucky and didn't get it, but most of the others did. If it weren't for Jeezie I think we would have lost several people."
She shakes her head and waves away her diversion. "But never mind all that. We'll start getting supplies together and be ready when you return." She says with a smile. "I can't wait to slip the noose of that nasty old Borgia and her red guards. You will come back soon this time won't you?" She adds with a direct look at Vrindel, Trevor and Ibrox.
"... arrived last winter," the gnome repeated. His mind jumping at every old lady who could be the witch in disguise.
"Aye. We'll return if we can."
Trevor takes the Gnome's meaning, for once, and nods back.
"We'll be back, but when... Alas, time has played tricks on us before. Those caves behave strangely. But yes, we'll be back."
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I don't want no coffee or tea
Just me and good buddy Wiser
That's all I ever need
'Cause I drink alone, yeah
With nobody else
Yeah, you know when I drink alone
I prefer to be by myself:
When invited to take a look, Allie casts Detect Magic at the deadly crimson crystal, so she could recognize it's aura if she ever encounters it again.
Her eyebrows raise at the mention of the thing being able to transform a being into undead. She had read papers on the topic of such a transformation, and the universal opinion was that it required powerful and arcane magicks of the school of necromancy. And usually a body, already deceased.
That this substance could transform a living creature, and at will, was a thing of note.
She was going to ask about security measures around the warehouses...like, are they locking the doors good enough? But the woman appeared confident so she held her tongue.
So of course she started thinking about some kind of apparatus that could assist. Perhaps something like a Rope of Climbing but if it extended horizontally....
"Oh by all the powers!" she involuntarily exclaims when the nefarious usage of the poisoned candies is explained. "That shows not only evil intent but also malice of forethought! To do such a thing...it means that no one at all is safe! Just a pinch of that in our water supply...."
She trails off, the myriad of uses for something that not only poisons and kills someone, but also turns them into a ravening monster is almost more than she can conceive.
"Yeah...yeah," she stammers, her mind racing. "I'm sure that, with this new information, I could get them to at least look at the place again.
I better start now."
She's just flatly unable to take any more data. Also, she can't conceive of a more powerful weapon than a crystal that could be ground up and turn literally everyone into a filthy greyskin.
She had dismounted the armor outside of the office for courtesy's sake, but she re-mounted it now. The numerous armored plates and slates slide and shift as the armor seems to consume her utterly, until only a faceless statue of STEEL is left.
Then, she lets the helmet draw back so she can at least communicate and be recognized in the town. Time might be of the essence.
She starts asking any city guards she comes across if they saw either the gnome or the trollkin and which way they went. The insane human might not gather much notice, but here a gnome might be remembered, and someone must have noticed the troll.
"So it's agreed then. Let's go find Clankty-clank and head that way. The good news is that if we have to run away from something we know who will move the slowest".
A little more wandering and you finally come across a hastily built wooden hut where the trollkin, human, and gnome are just preparing to leave. They seemed to be speaking with a group of people including some older villagers and one young woman who is most likely the apprentice Vrindel had mentioned back in the dryad's grove.
Trevor chooses not to ask twice the same question. Vrindel had a reason for ignoring his question. The druid was probably trying to teach him some wise lesson. Which lesson, he couldn't figure though...
"Right. Let's get moving. Now I don't wish to leave the town on its own for too long..."
As Trevor, Vrindel, and Ibrox are saying their farewells to the small group of gathered villagers, they all can't help but notice and recognize the armored figure moving down the narrow, dusty lane as that of the artificer who had returned with them to Nargenthal just a few short hours ago.
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"Hey! I found you!" Allie pipes up cheerfully, her distractingly cute head popping up from the bulky armored bulwork of her power armor.
"So, about that inn that you guys took care of," she starts hesitantly, still unsure how much trust is currently in the air. "My superiors would like me to verify its brokenness.
It turns out that there's an odd and evil substance making its way into the not-conquered parts of the good places. It's wierd. It's like this, Idunno, 'crystal' stuff, and when you make contact, or eat it, it turns into you into a ghoul.
I know it sounds crazy, and you probably don't know what I'm talking about, because you probably would've mentioned it by now. But this stuff is nuts! I guess someone ground the stuff up into powder and sprinkled in cookies and sweets then handed it out to children. The Guard had to put down a dozen eight to ten year old ghouls before they traced it back to the source."
Allie stops and takes a few breaths. She's seen some rough things. She grew up in a rough place so she's no stranger to adversity. But the absolute baseline evil of doing that to kids is knocking at the strong pillars of her personality.
"So, if you could lead me to where that inn was, just so I could check it out and make sure it's in the non-functional category, that would be real wiz."
"She is here in the village." The gnome says to the paladin and druid.
"Yeah, sure. We're returning that way anyway. Tell us more about these crystal and cookies. And, who is running the village giving you this information?" The gnome asks the chatty Allison.