Trevor tries to look like he is brooding, but deep down, he is not looking forward to those dark tunnels, and the more the safier, as they say...
"Right. We need some food for the trip, no?"
He's thinking he going to speak with Owin, but hesitates. What would he say? He'd been absent so long...
But then he finds the hydra tooth in his pocket and remembers he took it precisely to give it to the boy.
"Right. I have an errand to run. I'll meet you in the market then?" and he runs off to find Owin.
The companions are rejoined for a matter of moments before Trevor announces his departure and dashes off to the market, leaving Allison, Vrindel, and Ibrox on their own until he returns.
As the young knight disappears around a narrow corner, Maryanne offers each of you a place to sleep for the night.
"We've not much room, but it's a roof over your head." She says. "The Frost Maiden has been full for ages and even that new place is packed all of the time." She grimaces talking of 'the new place' her distaste for the establishment clear.
Trevor spends a good hour wandering the small town, for it really isn't a village anymore, looking for the boy Owyn. Passing by the docks he's just about ready to give up his search when he sees something he hadn't expected to see in tiny Nargenstal. A griffon rests on a patch of ground near the old wharf, several yards away from the newly built docks and warehouses. A shadow fae stands next to the beast running a strange looking brush along the creatures feathered flank. Hanging on a post not far away from the two is a heavy looking pack, one flap open and currently being invaded by a small hand attached to a small arm and an all too recognizable face.
Having found Owyn, Trevor realizes the boy is robbing the shadow fae while she is distracted caring for what appears to be her tamed griffon. All she needs to do is turn back toward her belongings and the young lad could find himself in serious trouble.
After the long flight from Courlandia you find yourself in the small village of Nargenstal, a berg on the edge of seemingly nowhere and hopefully a perfect place to stay lost for a while. Having delivered the package to the commandant you've officially finished all of your final duties and mustered out. The letter from your 'father' tucked away in your pack along with your last month's pay and the few things you kept with you from your life with Karifax and Melfia.
While grooming Vashrin you can't help but ponder what next steps you will take. The world lies open at your feet, yet it is bittersweet having left the only family you've ever known behind because of a family you've never known. The routine of running the burrbrush through Vashrin's feathers helps calm your mind and ignore the occasional worried glance from passersby as their eyes flit from you to Vashrin and back.
It is not surprising, the fear you sense from others. It has always been that way. Folk tend to see your shadow fae features and simply assume the worst. Although up here, in the small frontier town, most of the glances seem more curious than afraid. As if Vashrin is the more unusual sight, not the shadow fae rider at the griffon's side.
As you work a particularly troublesome area under the griffon's left wing, you catch a glimpse of movement near where you pack and all of your worldly belongings hang. A skinny young human boy has his hand inside the outer flap while another older, but still fairly young human looks on.
"Owyn! Come here now! That's not MY bag, you silly squire!" shouts Trevor at the boy, hoping to provide a mitigating context for his misled behaviour.
"Are you two hungry?" She asked, "Do you want to meet Vashrin? Then we could head over to the tavern and I'll buy you all something to eat."
The boy, Owyn, turns and looks at Trevor. It takes a moment but recognition slowly enters his eyes and face and he quickly slides his hand out of the open pack and stands looking at Trevor. At first he seems happy to see the teenaged knight, but his lips sink into a frown and his eyebrows furrow into a scowling look.
"You can't tell me what to do!" He says angrily, his small fists set stubbornly on his hips. "You're s'posed to be dead and Finnigan said I needed to be my own boss now."
At about that moment, the shadow fae also gives a shout and moves to block both Owyn and Trevor from easily slipping past her as she grabs her pack from the post. Squinting in the late evening sun, the fae griffon tamer mistakes Trevor for yet another street urchin as she chastises both for attempting to steal from her with a smile that ends with an offer of food and a closer look at the griffon who watches the proceedings with one golden orb and a noisy *chirrup* as the brushing stops unexpectedly.
"I'm back! And I apologize for not being dead. And I apologize as well for appearing dead all this time! And I apologize for not returning sooner too! But I'm back! And we killed that hydra, thanks to you Owyn, though it nearly killed me, even after it was dead! And you know what else!? You're still my squire, young man! So now you've got work to do, because we're going back for more, and this time I might bring you with me. But first, let's have a look at this magnificent beast, yes? Then I have a surprise for you."
And he gives the boy a giant crushing hug.
"Thank you Maryanne for the hospitality." The cheerful gnome replies to the young girl, while looking at the adults for confirmation.
Then after confirming where they would sleep that night, the gnome turns to the new girl, "Now that's how to make friends. Let me try some of that stout."
"And why don't tell us all about yourself, before we tell you how that necrotic crystal is made."
"And, start thinking of an older lady who looks innocuous but has control or influence over the village. She could have arrived as early as last winter. She's who is behind all this."
Survival
Vrindel stays around long enough to be friendly, and even accepts a mug of the offered Stout, but being around this many people in a small place does not appeal to him. When he can make excuses to leave he will, and tries to find a nice tree to sleep under for the evening.
"Shall we leave at first light? Someone be sure to inform Trevor when he returns. Now Good evening to you all".
Allison's stout is enjoyed by all as it has a rich, full flavor and is something that hasn't been seen in the village for over a year. The sun finally sets and the evening is warm and pleasant with a cooling breeze blowing in off the sea.
Hildigunn has another coughing fit and brews more of her tea which eventually calms the woman's symptoms, but those who met her before can't help but notice the change in the previously formidable old grandmother's figure and demeanor. More frail, quieter, and even somewhat submissive when it comes to her own needs and thoughts. Surely all simply signs of age and a hard frontier life.
Owyn stiffens as Trevor leans in to give the boy a hug and confirmation of still being the knights squire. The words seem to have an immediate effect on the boy as he carries himself straighter and with a bit more confidence. At the mention of being able to join Trevor on whatever journey the paladin of Khors might undertake Owyn's eyes light up and he bounces with excitement.
Turning toward the griffon, he suddenly turns red and reaches back into his pockets pulling out several coins, a penknife, and a deck of cards. He hands it all over apologetically to the shadow fae.
"I'm sorry maam." He says quietly. "I didn't mean nothin' by it. But now that I'm a squire again, it would be wrong to keep them." He looks up to her with a thoughtful frown. "You shouldn't leave your stuff out like that though. These days it'll disappear faster than an ale at the Maiden." He adds and then turns his eyes hopefully over to the big griffon.
Methada gave a small nod as she took her items back from the lad. She returned them to her bag before picking up the whole thing.
"Under all, a gleam of honor." She said, looking from the lad to this man who had come to speak to him. "Show potential. Would you mind if I take the lad over to meet Vashrin? As both a thank you for his choice to do the right thing, and because I did offer already." Methada asked. "Oh, and his name sir knight, is Vashrin. It would do well to avoid calling him a beast." She added in good humor, a smile still on her lips.
Trevor turns bright red and can do nothing but nod his approval.
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Allie brightens as the gnome shows a start of enthusiasm for her magical gew-gaw, and pours the lusty ale with some relish.
"My parents died in a fire," she begins after the first gallon has gone sloshing down willing throats. "Courlandia ain't so bad to grow up on the streets. I mean, as far as that life goes.
I eeked out a living just, like, stealing, y'know? An apple here, a loaf there. Just getting by.
But then I met someone. More like some people. But their leader, Father Joakim, taught me how to be better. How to reach in to myself, deep down, and be better than just another street rat.
I started to see that I could do things. And know things. Like, once I see a thing, I can usually remember it. I needed to be told that not everyone can do that.
So I got better. But, um, I just got better enough to do worse things. I kinda hired myself out.
For crime," she adds.
"But then I found that thing," she waves a hand at the ominous human-shaped slab of steel that rests at attention in the corner. Seeing it in the light it's easy to see that the horizontal slates of steel that start in the back and terminate front and center make up what should be an ordinary suit of splint mail that by natural law should be in a pile on the floor.
"I worked on it, like, putting my own energy into it. It...talks to me. And it says that it'll protect me and everything will be okay.
You know what that's like?" she asks.
**************************
The barest whiff is all Allie needs for her whirring brain to catalog and cross-reference data on all the recognizable ingredients.
"Pentanoth root? That's odd...." she muses.
Her urchin instincts, never deeply dormant, start to chew on this new data like mice on a good dress.
She considers accosting the Maryanne woman, but she seems just another peasant. The gnome seems like who would have greater understanding of...this sort of thing.
"That brew of tea, you see it? It's not medicine. Well, that is, there's nothing medicinal in it. It's just nice tea. But it also has a dose of poison in it. It's from a plant in the sea that weakens the mind.
If I didn't know better, I'd say someone is scamming her. 'Snake oil' we used to call it. On the streets.
For crime," she finishes, in case the gnome didn't understand.
Replying back to Allison, "Alright, childhood. But who are you working for here and why?"
"And, have you met any older ladies who appear innocuous but have control or influence over the village?" He sips his stout.
===========================================================
The gnome arches his eyebrow at Allison's whispers surprised that he did not detect the poison. He has not earned his trust, but Hildigunn is clearly suffering. And she did say that she got the tea from an old lady... potential witch.
"Hildigunn, I suspect that there might be something nefarious in that tea. Who did you get that tea from again?"
"Would you please stop drinking that stuff. I'll bring you back a replacement tea from the dryad who I trust. Can you give me some of that too, so I can ask the dryad to confirm what's in it. If the tea is really bad, we can take care of your herbalist when we return."
Methada motioned for both and lad and Trevor to follow her over to Vashrin. She stepped up first and ran her hand over the dark brown and red feathers of his neck. "I know, I'll finish up soon. But I have some I want you to meet." Methada told her griffon. She then turned and held out her hand to either the lad or Trevor, who ever wished to see Vashrin first. "He won't hurt you, I'm here. He knows it's safe and he's use to being around people."
Trevor lets Owyn go first, but he's quite eager and right behind the lad.
He finally finds his voice and says to the woman: "Are you new in the vill- in town? I was here with my companions months back and I can't recall a griffon hanging around the place..."
"I'm Trevor. Pleased to meet you."
Owyn gives a wide knowing grin at the paladin, hiding behind Methada. Trevor avoids making eye contact, but his ruby glow turns deep purple.
Methada gently took Owyn's hand and brought it to Vishran's neck, letting him run his fingers over the feathers. "Not bad huh?" She asked Owyn with a smile as she let him pet the griffon.
"Oh yes, I just got in. We griffon riders often serve as mercenaries for hire. It gets us more experience, and out of the city for a while." She explained.
"Oh I'm sorry I've been rude. I am Methada, and I've already introduced Vashrin. We're passing through looking for some work."
Not surprising the boy is completely enamored with Vashrin and continues to stroke the creatures feathers with his small hand. When Mathada mentions looking for work, the boy chirps up brightly.
"Oh! You should come with us." He says waving at Trevor. "Trevor and I are leaving on a mission tomorrow. I bet having Vashrin along would really help a lot." He adds continuing to pet the griffon. "Besides, according to all the stories Finn told me, Trevor could probably use an extra pair of hands to keep him safe. I'm only one squire after all." He leans in toward Mathada and speaks in a loud whisper. "I guess he likes to jump off cliffs into the sea, which is probably why he disappeared for a year. I bet Vashrin could catch him if he tried to do that again."
"What?!" Exclaims Hildigunn, Maryanne and her mother all at the same time. "What are you two talking about?" The old woman adds looking back and forth between the gnome and the woman in the heavy armor contraption.
"Why I've been brewing herbs since before you were finished suckling some devils teet. You think I don't know what's what even if it did come from someone else." She says, her eyes filled with the old stubbornness and fire for the first time since you seen her.
Maryanne shakes her head in both surprise and disbelief. "That can't be true." She says. "I got that straight from Grandmother Tutpine herself. I can't believe she'd be trying to poison Hildigunn."
While her daughter questions, her mother leans in sniffing the dregs of Hildigunn's cup. After a few deep breaths, she frowns, her dark eyes narrowing as she sniffs a few more times. Finally she dips the tip of her finger into the cup and tastes the concoction which seems to seal the issue for her as she nods slightly.
"Quiet daughter." She says firmly. "And you to Hildigunn. Our friends are correct. It is subtle, and covered by all of the strong scents of the other herbs, but it is there. Pentanoth root." She offers Allison a tip of her head. "You've a nose for herbs young lady. There aren't many who could pick up that scent under such conditions."
Hildigunn frowns and does the same as Fastvi just did with her cup. Finally a look of surprise and fury envelopes her face but not before she offers a deep apology to both Ibrox and Allison for her earlier outburst.
"But if it's true, then why?" Maryanne asks, her voice soft and more than a little scared. "Why poison Hildigunn?" She looks down at her own tea mug and suddenly turns pale. "Or any of us for that matter."
The gnome frowns. Both as he is the only one NOT to notice the Pentanoth root AND now everyone has realized that Tutpine provided poison. He clears his throat and pauses to collect his thoughts.
"Alright, the reason we were gone so long is that we fought a witch who had taken residence in that old inn. The witch escaped after cursing us. Although we broke her curse and rescued two imprisoned fey, we lost months. It actually only felt like we were gone a few days."
"So, when we first met the witch, she appeared like a nice old lady, her goblins looked like halflings, and the inn looked warm and cozy instead of the house of horrors that was finally revealed when her poisons wore off. So, she is probably here in the village looking like a nice old lady."
"Now it seems too obvious that Grandmother Tutpine is the same witch. This witch is old power approaching the level of The Grandmother. When we broke the curse that she laid on us, it actually also broke my gnome curse from the Grandmother, too. We probably should assume that Tutpine is an apprentice. Evil, but not THE Evil."
"Now, why Hildigunn? Well, aren't you the last of the original residents? One of the last to suspect that something is wrong with the town. I heard Britta suspected, too. Once the last good people are gone, the witch could control the town with her evil."
"Those are my initial thoughts." He looks everyone in their eyes and then drains his stout.
"Jumping off cliffs?" Methada asked with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile on her face. "Well yes Vashrin could possibly save one from such a fate. Though he and I would have quite a race against the forces that pull them down." She said honestly.
"However, Trevor mentioned a group... Would it not be prudent to get their opinions as well?" Methada asked as she moved her hands to run over Vashrin's beak. "Are they at the inn? Or the tavern?"
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Replying back to Allison, "Alright, childhood. But who are you working for here and why?"
"And, have you met any older ladies who appear innocuous but have control or influence over the village?"
Wraith seems taken aback at the gnome's cold, sterile response. In her experience once the drink is flowing and the hour grows late, it's customary to swap stories and tell tales. More than once she's roisted into the wee hours, only to wake up the next day sprawled on a table, spent and happy. She had thought that this was what was going on.
'Perhaps he's just anti-social.'
"I'm part of a special unit attached to the High Throne of Courlandia working as a vanguard for intelligence-gathering and counter-espionage for the counter-assault against the undead scourge.
Sir."
*******************************
"Who is this Grandmother you keep referring to?" Allie asks taking out her notebook and tap-tapping on it with a charcoal stick.
"But, yeah, if someone is going around offering poison as medicine, that's a non-no.
As to why?" she muses out loud, at her notebook. "There are a myriad of reasons. Remember it's not instantly fatal, but can weaken the mind's defenses. It's just as likely the con-man is setting up the mark to act as a stalking horse for some bigger job. An un-willing and even innocent-minded accomplice is the best kind." She goes on, unconscious that she's referring to everyone gathered almost as inanimate objects.
"Either way, hampering the recovery of the town falls under the Sedition Act and I'm authorized to put an end to it.
By any means necessary.
We should go have a talk with her," she says, at last looking at the gnome.
"Jumping off cliffs?" Methada asked with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile on her face. "Well yes Vashrin could possibly save one from such a fate. Though he and I would have quite a race against the forces that pull them down." She said honestly.
"However, Trevor mentioned a group... Would it not be prudent to get their opinions as well?" Methada asked as she moved her hands to run over Vashrin's beak. "Are they at the inn? Or the tavern?"
"Probably, yes, but Owyn is getting ahead of himself a bit here. He forgets that he's still a squire on probation and that, as such, he should show a modicum of respect and restrain..."
"You said you worked as a mercenary. Are you now working, or are you seeking employment?"
Maybe she can be trusted. Even though that witch suckered us with good beer, too. The gnome wonders about Allison.
"The Grandmother has many names. Maybe you know her as Baba Yaga?" He replies politely. His usual cheerful smile wants to return to his face.
"Yes, we will eventually speak to this Tutpine." He pauses with a sip of stout.
"Allison, who put you on our trail exactly? Besides Britta, the witch would be very interested in our location and status, because she told us that we have two more tests to overcome. Was it someone in Courlandia or here?"
Nature
Vrindel not suspecting anything untoward about the tea, leaves early as planned and is sleeping under a big Oak, blissfully unaware of the treachery being uncovered back at the house.
"Seeking employment actually." Methada answered as she turned herself towards Trevor, her arms crossing themselves across her chest. "We both just got in and hadn't had a chance to seek out an employer just yet. I wanted to tend to Vashrin first. It had been a long flight after all." She explained as she reached her right hand under Vashrin's chin and scratched gently. "He's such a good sport about it."
Eventually Trevor guides Mathada and Owyn back to Maryanne's small abode where Allison and Ibrox discuss the implications of the toxic tea over yet another mug of stout. While the heroes contemplate thier next move, the village women brew up an antidote to the poison and start treating Hildigunn.
Watching the knight approach with his young squire in tow, Fastvi nods approvingly as sne leans towards Ibrox and Allison. "About time someone brought that young scamp under tow. Blasted Finnigan has been a bad influence on the boy." Her eyebrows raise slightly as she notices the shadow fae walking with Trevor. That's not the young spellslinger who fought the reavers a year ago. Odd to see another of their kind is these parts. Another friend of yours? She says to the two adventurers.
"No, that's not Zove. Don't know who that is." The gnome's cheerful smile threatened to rest on his face after his third short mug of stout.
"She's Methada! She's a mercenary between jobs. She's just arrived in town and- She rides a Griffon!!!"
"And Owyn's coming with us! Official squire business." As he says this, Trevor thinks of Aterro...
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"Allison, who put you on our trail exactly? Besides Britta, the witch would be very interested in our location and status, because she told us that we have two more tests to overcome. Was it someone in Courlandia or here?"
"Oh my that's a boring question," Wraith blurts out before she can stop herself. She shakes her head and continues on. "Sailors along this trade route pointed out this area to the High Court as not-yet-conquered. They also said there was this bad-ass group that had civilized it from the dwarf raiders.
Blah-blah-blah, a bunch of stuff happened, something something, and this whole thing is under the reins of Commandant Borgia. I answer to her, and unless her great-and-redness decides to go for a short flight over here, the Commandant kinda don't answer to much of anyone for right the now.
Okay, now, who's this 'witch' you keep talking about?"
*****************
As the talk turns to venturing out, Allie resumes her power armor. She steps back into it and the whole thing envelopes her like an unsophisticated lover.
If that lover happened to be a steel sarcophagus.
As a new face emerges, Allie continues to try to be the universal welcoming committe.
"HOI CHUMM--" she stops, realizing the enclosed helmet was enacting its default setting. She retracts the steel helm and tries again, her cute head again looking dwarfed in the staggering plate.
"Hoi chummer! Methada is it? Sweet ride you got there.
I'm Wraith."
She sticks out an overly-armored hand for shaking.
Methada gave a small, slightly confused smile, "Um, pleasure." Methada said as she took her armored hand and gave it a respectful shake.
"But yes, Trevor spoke truth. I am currently in between jobs and he as well as Owyn, suggested I come and speak with all of you. That maybe you could use my help." She explained, and a bit nervously ran her hand over one of her horns. Normally she'd try to hide them with her hair, but after a while it wasn't as easy. She had thought of filing them off completely. "So is that something the rest are open to?" She asked.
"Blab blah witch blah blah blah. Look. Being small of stature, I've a high tolerance for disrespect, but you're reaching it. No matter how good the stout is." The gnome politely replies with a cheerful smile in hopes to reset expectations with this royal agent.
================================================
The gnome sets his short mug of stout down for the introduction to the new Shadow Fey. The first things you notice about the gnome are his bright emerald eyes and infectious smile. He sports a orange chin strap beard and a red calfskin hat attempting to cover his orange hair that sticks out in every direction. Standing a little over three feet tall, he is an average-sized gnome who wears a forest green tunic and leather cloak, that are both heavily embroidered, over leather armor that peeks out from the tunic. His well-worn boots are sturdy leather. He wears a dagger and a pouch on his belt.
He extends his hand to greet her and doffs his redcap with a deep bow, "Pleasure to meet you, Methada. People call me Ibrox. Hope your rates are negotiable to a share in what we find, because we're not terribly financially successful."
"That reminds me, Trevor. Do we have any extra coins? My leathers have a few too many holes in them."
"Well met." Methada said as she took the extended hand to shake as she had the one Wrath offered her. "Really anything that keeps myself and Vashrin from starving is a deal." She told him honestly. "Griffons can eat a fair amount, and they love horse. So I do have to make sure he's well fed else risk him seeking his own food. It isn't too bad when we're in the wild but in a village... well he won't attack people but animals are up for debate."
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"Does he only eat live animals, or would he also eat carrion?" Wraith inquires curiously, her charcoal tip again scratching away. "How long would you say an animal would have to be dead before he wouldn't eat it? What if it was cooked? Have you tried flavoring it?"
She scribbles in the margins 'Do griffon's eat the undead? Could they would they?'
Trevor gives Ibrox's nude scalp a good look, but then his attention wanders off and he sits against a tree and takes his boots off.
He calls Owyn to his side and starts lecturing him on how to be a good squire, meaning he just keeps saying to listen to him in seven different ways.
"Uha well, that would depend upon the griffon. However if they're hungry enough yes." Methada said with a nod. "If it isn't too far decayed, or if it isn't diseased, they'll eat it. However I try to make sure Vashrin doesn't eat anything that looks remotely people like. That is the best way to keep the line that people are not food. That said, Vashrin can attack undead without any worry. He is a griffon of battle, he know that following my orders is what keeps us alive. He will not reject that."
Owyn listens intently to Trevor at least until he realizes that much of what is expected of a squire apparently involves maintaining Trevor's boots, bed, camp duties, and laundry. After the third or fourth iteration of Trevor's lecturing Owyn's attention easily drifts toward the much more intriguing conversation between Methada and Allison regarding the eating habits of mighty battle griffons.
"Whoa!" The boy exclaims. "Have you fought dragons like the Mharoti? Or the ghost knights of Morgau? What about reavers? You know they almost wiped out the village last year, but Trevor and Vrindel and Ibrox and Aterro and Zove saved everyone. What about fish? Does he eat fish, cause that's what we've got a lot of around here. Have you ever fallen off?" He says firing off a zillion questions with wide eyed enthusiasm as his mind ponders the glories of riding a griffon verses the those offered mending Trevor's socks.
Eventually the boy falls asleep, the stout runs out and the night passes and soon enough roosters signal the coming of dawn. With the rising sun, the town bustles back to life as vendors open their stalls and the sounds of construction fill the air once again. Maryanne is off to tend her fields after a performing the meditations Vrindel taught her while the older women brew tea and ready themselves for a day of gossip and complaining about the young people and changes in the town.
Trevor scratches his patchy stubs of beard, yawns, and looks for a place to clen up. He wakes Owyn and makes sure the boy follows him and cleans up as well.
Then, unless someone made breakfast, he'll go through his "daily" routine of exercise, exerting Owyn to exert himself, while mentioning Khors and how great he is, and that he's the Sun, but not much else, as he knows not that much really.
Then, unless someone made breakfast, he'll instruct Owyn on how to care for their equipment, pack everything neatly (neatlier than he would).
Then, unless someone made breakfast, he'll ask if there's any breakfast.
"I could eat a horse!" he says, giving the griffon a smile.
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Allie nods and murmurs "Interesting" at Methada's answers. She keeps peppering her with questions, but all of them have a utilitarian heart. Indeed, it seems more like her ultimate goal would be to have the griffin fully fed, and without effort or expense spent on it.
"Did you capture and/or train him yourself?"
Allie's mind patently ignores the paladin's asking about breakfast, snacking on cold hardtack and jerky herself, pleasures of the flesh being but poor coin when her brain has new data to contentedly jaw upon.
"Shall we head for the spooooooky inn now?" she asks after a fashion.
Upon waking, the gnome busies himself in his morning routine as some who is well-practiced living on the road. He renews his Detect Magic and breaks his and Rikki's fast.
As they mill about ready to depart, the gnome telepathically introduces himself and Rikki (his familiar weasel) to Vashrin. He attempts to get the griffon to share its and Methada's stories. They have hours to travel anyway.
Vashrin gave a chirp to Trevor when he said horse and looked at him. It seemed the mighty creature agreed.
"I trained him! Or well I trained with him. I had him from an egg you see. My father was also a griffon rider and Vashrin comes from his griffon. He and I grew side by side, as such our bond is much closer than a normal griffon rider's bond. Griffons have a family structure and only tend to leave it when they have reached sexual maturity and wish to find a mate. Vashrin is more akin to my own brother then just my friend." Methada explained.
Vashrin looked at Ibrox a bit confused when the small one began to speak within his head. 'Stories? Of prey falling? Battle with wing. Over open space and slopping form. We rain upon them, block the sky light. Too late! Caught!' A scene played over in Vashrin's mind of he, and likely Methada, flying down the side of a mountain, picking up speed, on either side where other griffon's and their riders. One by one the broke away to catch the air lift up, yet Methada and Vashrin remained on course. Till the last moment when they where lifted up in time to rain arrows down upon a large herd of deer. Likely a memory of a hunting party with fellow griffon riders in Methada and Vashrin's younger years. After a feast of venison, Methada off to the side of Vashrin speaking around a fire with other riders while Vashrin dug into a whole corpse of a large buck. There where so few in the memory, Methada and her fellows numbered less than a dozen. Far off from the glory days of the Griffon Riders.
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Trevor spends the morning coaching Owyn in the finer aspects of squireship and waiting for someone to suddenly bring forth platters of waffles, sweetbreads, bacon, sausages, and fried eggs. Unfortunately for the knight Khors does not shine upon his young paladin and instead provides his worldly servant with tough bread and and a few slices of cheese, all that the humble Maryanne and others can afford or have time to make.
While the knight drearily contemplates a breakfast more in tune with long days on the open road, Ibrox spends the first part of the morning haggling and bargaining with the handful of merchants currently extorting....providing services...to the good folk and military personnel of Nargenstal. Not used to dealing with the mysterious and bedeviled folk of Neimhiem, the armorer is caught off guard and before he knows what happened the quick tongued Ibrox has managed to secure a set of hydra armor for both he and Vrindel with the remaining hyde for the low cost of seventy gold. This is after the gnome's luck happens upon one of the naval captains who happens to be a collector of fine games and is enchanted by the chess set. After a minor bit of haggling, the captain hands the gnome three finely polished citrines, each easily worth one hundred gold crowns and an additional two hundred and fifty in gold coins. All in all, a successful morning that nets Ibrox and his companions four hundred and eighty crowns worth of gold and gems as he rejoins the group with a full coin purse and a receipts for his new armor.
Allison and Methada discuss the finer details of griffon feeding and care while fending off Trevor's complaints regarding the mornings repast.
Not long after Ibrox returns, Vrindel arrives rested and refreshed after completing his druidic rituals and obligations within the old stone circle oddly still undisturbed despite its proximity to the growing town.
Finally all set off back north along the now familiar trail to the dryad's tree and the ruined inn and whatever secrets it still may hide far beneath its fire scarred foundation.
The day is pleasant and the summer continues dry and warm, but moderated by the cool open waters and gentle westerly breeze flowing over the Bay of Ghed. Birds flit through the trees singing summer songs and diving after bugs. Squirrels busy themselves gathering nuts and whatever else they can find to eat or bury in preparation for winter's travails and short supply of food. An idyllic day for traveling, filled with companionable conversation and expectation of more riches to potentially come.
Vrindel is very chipper and cordial as he returns from his relaxing... quiet night among nature.
He gives Maryanne a large basket of blueberries, and a half-dozen grouse eggs with a huge smile. "The grove looks magnificent. I'm sure you had much to do with that... and nature gives as she takes".
He then turns to the others and grabs his quarterstaff ready to move. "Off to the Inn then"?
The gnome returns from shopping very pleased with himself! And, he proudly hands Vrindel a full coin purse. "I also ordered you a set of Hydra-hide armor. Hopefully, we'll return soon to get fitted and take delivery."
Along the way, he chats with the birds and animals. He tells Vashrin the story of the hydra when they pass its carcass.
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Allie keeps up a constant scribble on her note-pad, finding the stories of the care and feeding of griffin-mounts just about the most interesting thing she's found in her whole trip.
"Are there many griffin-riders? Do you usually follow a rigid military structure, or are you a branch unto yourself?
And if you ride a freekin' griffin...what are you doing here? Are you also on retainer to the red queen?"
"Also, yes, to the inn then. As none of you have been forthcoming with what you found there we're forced to see it for ourselves.
Hey, did you know that squirrels don't remember where they bury all their nuts? That's how oak trees get sprouted all over the place. It makes you wonder if they remember any of the nuts they bury, or do they forget about all of the nuts that aren't immediately accessible...."
After an uneventful night and another day of travel, the dryad's glade and the old ruined inn once again come into view. Little has changed in the few days since your departure. A gentle breeze rustles the hanging limbs of the willow while sunflowers face their big round heads toward the late summer sun.
Greetings are exchanged with Illarya when you arrive. Her pipe, as ever, sending a thin spiral of smoke up into the green and yellow leaves of the willow. When asked about the inn, she simply shrugs.
"Haven't seen anything at all." She says, then pauses and contemplates the light reflecting off the pond for a moment or two. "Although, there have been some odd vibrations and sounds coming from somewhere over the last few days. I didn't pay much attention, since there didn't seem to be any real danger about. Thought is was maybe just the ground shifting as it does once in a while. But now that you mention it, it could have come from something underground." She shivers and closes her eyes in an effort to put down bad memories. "The mere thought of being somewhere back beneath the earth..." She adds, her voice trailing off. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll tend to other matters for a while." And with that she disappears around the other side of the tree and...where ever it is fae dryad's go to rest or avoid the mortal world for a time.
Quiet descends upon the glade as the ruin of the inn and its dilapidated stable stand over whatever secrets may lie in the depths far below its charred remains.
"There once were many. Now we're not nearly as large. Nothing to underestimate but nowhere near as large as our numbers once were. I am a cavalry unit. Though I can be put other places, but that is where I thrive. The calvary of a griffon rider is much different than those of normal calvary as we use the skies." Methada explained to Wrath.
"Uha... Your second question is a more.. difficult one. Let's just say I was instructed to go and act as a mercenary. I was told the red queen often takes griffon riders in as mercenaries. I would have tried there if I hadn't been picked up by your group." Methada did her best to explain to Wrath.
When they got to the glade, and Methada listened to what the dryad had to say she grew a bit worried. Griffons did not do well underground. They skies where their domain after all. Part of her was worried it would reflect poorly on her and Vashrin. After all this was the first combat they would see with their new employers. "Griffons don't do too well underground. It is also possible I may not even be able to get Vashrin to fit underground..."
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Wraith nods amicably at Methada's answers, finding them both logical and interesting.
"Hey, Miss Illarya, have you by chance seen any und...oh bother where did she get off to?" Allie frowns about as an apparently very well informed local and her only good lead just wanders off right under her nose.
She looks around and sighs, trying to figure out the best plan. As Methada pipes up about the limitations of her mount underground, that seems to be one more difficulty piled on a difficult time.
"Methada, I understand your qualms about going underground. Believe me, I don't really wanna be stuck somewhere down-under any longer than I absolutely have to. But we are here to fight undead, so, alas, we gotta go where they are.
Do you mind if we look around a bit though? It seems that Illarya had no concerns around here -except- for underground activity. We should at least check it out. But I'm sure it won't take long.
Will Vashrin be okay on his own if we go away for a bit? We can always come back if things get too sticky."
Thusly, given a lead about something underground--however vague--Wraith starting marching about the ground, looking for some kind of entrance to whatever menace Illarya was on about.