The creatures launch themselves onto the ship and Petronia gets her first look at their hideous visages. She feels her insides clench and try to compel her to shrink back.
But she is so eager for a fight, not thinking she was going to get one while on the ship, that she easily pushes the feeling aside. She practically leaps at the hag trying to climb aboard and grabs hold of it to get proper leverage to punch it right in the face while half dragging her aboard.
The hag's horrifying, distended face makes Kazmir's usually iron stomach turn over, bubbling with disgust. His muscles slack as his body rebels against such sights.
Still he manages to say to Petronia, "Get the crew back, we can't afford to lose too many of them."
With that he steels his gut and plunges into battle against the same hag the tattooed woman is fighting.
Perhaps it was Ner's difficult youth that inured him against the hags appearance. More likely he just didn't fathom the true horror of the creature. What he did fathom was seeing his friends in trouble - he should be helping!
Ner cut a line in the rigging and tried to swing down to the deck, rope in his left hand and dagger in his right. If he did this properly maybe he could flank the hag on the far side of Petronia. He swung downward in an arc past the railing and back, dropped to the deck in a little roll, and popped up again.
The hag trying to attack Matheus wails in frustration as the druid's faster mount keeps him out of claw's reach. Realizing that she won't be able to catch the hippocampus, she turns and swims underwater towards the ship, intending to join her coven there.
Petronia and Kazmir leap into action, attacking the climbing hag. She is pulled aboard and immediately assaulted. The brawlers punch shatters the creature's nose, letting loose a gush of watery blood and frothing, roiling worms. The dwarf follows up with a vicious swing, catching the hag in the ribs and clearly shattering a few of them.
Ner's swing to the deck takes absolutely everybody by surprise, and he manages to stick his knife up and under the other hag's ribs, piercing something critical and making the hag stagger in pain and surprise. The captain and two sailors arrive as well, the captain joining Petronia and Kazmir, and the other two joining Ner. Two swings go wide, but one of Ner's allies take, advantage of the halfling's sudden appearance to flank and sliced the hideous creature nearly from stem to stern.
The horrible, ear-splitting wail didn't let up for a moment, though it's tenor changed slightly, adding pain and fury to the sound. They clearly hadn't been expecting such an armed and ready response.
The first hag rights herself and gains her feet with supernatural ease. She moved...wrongly; something that lived underwater should not move with such fluid grace out of the water. She strikes out with two clawed hands at Petronia, the many-jointed fingers stiff and hard as knives, and the oversized claws or talons looking to find tender flesh. One claw skitters over armour, but the other found purchase, slicing along the brawler's bicep. Licking blood from her claws (the eel that was her tongue also licked it), she cackls in triumph.
Ner's opponent spins and lashes out at the halfling. One huge clawed hand caught nothing but air over the halflings head, but the other catches him in the side of the face, scoring his cheek and into his ear. Taking stock of the wounds she'd taken, the hag throws herself backwards, over the rail of the ship and back into the sea.
Hit
Miss
Hit
Miss
[
As the Hag turned Ner expected another claw and ducked! Instead it almost jumped over him and he swiped at it's heal tendon as it disappeared over the rail.
"Get the crew back, we can't afford to lose too many of them."
"Get them back yourself," she growls. She gives the hag a feral smile, "I'm going to make this one regret her life choices."
Not having to move anywhere to capitalize on pummeling the hag, Petronia gives a solid right hook followed by a left uppercut.
Ner leapt towards the gunwale railing and kicked off from it back toward the deck in the hopes of getting closer to the second beastie.
As Ner lunged forward and far too much to the right with his little blade he noticed the creature's shoulder open and gave Kazmir a wink.
The enemy tired of the game of tag a bit too quickly, but at least Matheus had had a chance to finish his summons. Halfway between himself and where he judged the diving monstrosity was, water churned as three tentacled shapes blinked into existence, called forth by the druid's magic. And quite frightful beasts they were, summoned under the Harrow of the Fiend. Ink black translucent bodies, with cruel red teeth-like ridges along their tentacles. It was a blessing the water prevented Matheus from getting a too good a look at them, he felt.
Kazmir watches the small halfling duck and weave around the hag, nimble and capable. The dwarf sees an opening and strikes with his hammer.
after he swings, he feels the battle rage boil inside of him. That churning cauldron of power and anger that is so potent...so tempting. The dwarf forces it down, knowing that this battle is going well enough and he may need it later.
Instead he contends himself to swing at the hag, hoping to turn it into paste. Besides, he doesn't want Petrona to outshine him.
His blow misses entirely and merely takes a chunk out of the ship's gunwale, throwing up a cascade of broken splinters.
The water ahead of Matheus churned and boiled as three squid appeared around the charging hag. It was hard to see the details, but it was clear that an epic battle was taking place.
On board, Petronia and Kazmir brutally pummeled the final remaining hag, and within seconds, she was an unmoving, pulpy mess on the deck. Immediately, thin worms and tiny crabs came crawling away from the corpse, sensing that their host was dead.
The hag that went overboard didn't surface again, and the one being harried by squid dove downwards, and was soon lost to sight.
The sea was quiet again.
Ner huffed as he slowly caught his breath while staring at the grotesquery on the deck. He looked pensive as if fighting for a thought - what is to be done now??? His brow fixed itself and he walked away. Moments later he returned, struggling to carry a man sized mop and bucket.
"Oi! Everyone alright up there?!" Matheus hollered as he steered his mount to swim alongside the ship. He had seen one enemy jump back into water, and his many-tentacled friends were still going after the one that had tried to eviscerate him. That left one enemy unaccounted for, but considering the lack of cries for help and sounds of combat both, he assumed the last one had been... seen to.
"My friends drove one away, and the one that jumped back down isn't looking like joining the fray again," he went on, then thought about something. "And is that one bugger who called me a witch still there?! The nerve... whoever you were, I invite you to look closely at this face. See any hairy warts? Long teeth or claws? Have you been at sea so long that I look vaguely feminine to you?" the druid grumbled, gesturing theatrically, his loud voice easily carrying to every ear.
"I'm a druid. Repeat after me: D.R.U.I.D." he went on, sounding affronted. "The next time you insult a druid, you get back on land and go to sleep, a horde of squirrels might just come chew on your nuts, if you catch my drift!"
"Right," he grunted, considering the mistake sorted. "Now, anyone hurt over there? It seems the poor bastard floating yonder was a lure for us - he is far beyond any help."
Ner giggled at the booming Matheus-man and his verbose indignation (two words Ner didn't understand, but he snickered at it) as he mopped away.
"Right," he grunted, considering the mistake sorted. "Now, anyone hurt over there? It seems the poor bastard floating yonder was a lure for us - he is far beyond any help."
Turning to Matheus, Ner sported four claw marks raking the side of his face. Three were moderately deep and one just skittered across his chin. Distantly while he mopped, "No, I'm alright.", like a child that has scrapped his knee.
Kazmir grunts in satisfaction and also disappointment when the last hag is reduced to a gory puddle of skin, rotten clothes and crustaceans. The dwarf gives the latter a heavy stamp, feeling the shell of a crab give way under his weight.
He glances to Petrona and says, "You fight well, woman. That was enjoyable." The dwarf hides his own internal annoyance at how little he was actually able to do.
He turns to Ner and says, voice rough, "Good job, little man. You are a worthy fighter, despite your size." He moves to clap the halfling on the shoulders with a huge stoneplate guantled hand. "And bloodied too? A fine token of Gorum's favor."
Petronia bares her teeth in a grin, "That was fun." She flicks some hag pulp off her hand, "Gross, but fun." She turns to head down below deck and back to the chest but before she disappears she throws back over her shoulder at Kazmir, "And you contributed! Nice job."
Matheus's rant as he reboarded the ship did little to ease the sailors' fears. "Druid, witch, whatever. Ain't natural," one of the sailors muttered, walking away. A few made warding gestures, but most seemed happy to still be alive.
As the ship passed the wreckage a second time, the body was no longer on it. The hags apparently decided to settle for one half eaten corpse and one hippocampus.
The rest of the voyage passed relatively uneventfully. The weather grew cooler, and the sky and sea became greyer. A few more weeks and they were coming up on the town of Kalsgard, at the mouth of the Rimeflow River. They had arrived at the Lands of the Linnorm Kings.
Matheus's rant as he reboarded the ship did little to ease the sailors' fears. "Druid, witch, whatever. Ain't natural," one of the sailors muttered, walking away. A few made warding gestures, but most seemed happy to still be alive.
"Natural! Bah, just wait 'till you slip and hurt yourself. Needles and gut-string are much more natural than healing prayers," Matheus grumbled.
Kazmir growls when Petronia leaves him with a (as he sees it) back-handed insult. 'Contributed'. The dwarf, still rushing from battle, almost stalks over and tries to toss the woman into the waves below.
No, that would be unwise.
Although it would be a worthy fight.
Instead the dwarf become increasingly morose and annoyed at the ocean journey until Kalgard. He is so depressed, he almost decides to enter the city, get drunk and pick a few bar brawls, something he hasn't done in a long time. Not since he started following Our Lord in Iron.
Grumbling he shakes his head and decides against such adolescent foolishness.
While sitting down to supper with the rest, Ner realized they would be docking soon. This made him sort of thoughtful and he started singing while eating. It was a sort of mumbling under his breath and he didn't realize he was doing it. It was part Halfling and part Teldane and even if you didn't speak both you knew that he couldn't remember all of the words.
"Are we not the shtilmench, oh, the little kynd?
And of bitzunkratz are we not experts?
Many things in the world, we have eaten,
But to this field our hearts have been smitten.
For there they were spread out for every mmmmm -
bitzunkratz, bitzunkratz!
bitzunkratz O my, bitzunkratz
O my, bitzunkratz O mine - in honey sweet
bitzunkratz O my, bitzunkratz
O my, bitzunkratz, O myyyyy be-lov-ed.
Now, stay to the path, watch out for greenies,
As we head west, the new earth seeking
mmmm mm our mother tilled land.
The Shtilmench spirit in me is renewded
There in sour cream, swim my dear heart,
bitzunkratz, bitzunkratz!
Petronia breathes a sigh of relief as she makes it back to the chest to find it well hidden under the blanket like she left it. Part of her was wondering if the hags had been some sort of diversion to steal the chest but apparently they had just been hungry for flesh.
The next couple days continually get colder and Petronia is glad that she had gotten Ner to get her some clothes more appropriate for cold weather.
Ner's oddities barely register with Petronia anymore so when he starts singing during one of their meals, she smiles at his lyrics. She then gently taps the table in beat with his song with one hand while continuing to eat with the other.
When they finally dock in Kalsgard, she asks the others, "Shall we take advantage of being on land for a bit and get a drink...or ten?"
Petronia is going to do that thing where she drinks loud ... that means its my turn to watch the chest. Remember ... don't touch ... remember ... don't touch ... , Ner went to the hold and now that he had his chance , examined the hell out of it! At times he mimed touching it. This helped him fight the terrible urge to fiddle with the lock.
A terrible creaking seemed to be coming from inside the crate. He bit into the meat of his thumb trying to keep from opening the chest. He wanted to sooo bad, but he kept to his word ... all the time not realizing that the creaking was actually coming from the ship.
-------
After a while he gave up and hid in a corner to watch the chest until it was unloaded and spy for interlopers.
"Shall we take advantage of being on land for a bit and get a drink...or ten?"
”Oh, I like the way you think!” Matheus declared, eagerly awaiting to get land that didn’t constantly move under his feet again. His eyes gleamed as he stared at the metropolis of the North from the ship’s railing. It was so very good to be back; even through the stench of a living city, the druid could smell the invigorating chill winds that whispered tales of growing glaziers and endless plains of snow and ice, to any ear that knew how to listen.
”I’ll want to try and listen to local rumors a bit while I’m at it,” the druid added. ”The little in the way of news we have, are months old already. Who knows what has happened in these parts since the Society last got a reliable update, before they sent us this way? There could have been all sorts of developments that affect our mission… and I guess we’ll have to take turns, to have someone keep an eye on the cargo at all times, like instructed.”
Kazmir grunts sourly at Ner, "I've heard better songs. You should stick to skulking about in silence." Instantly the dwarf regrets the insult so he stalks away, looking out over the city.
When Mathues talks about the chest the dwarf says, voice deep and gravel-rich, "I'll stay and guard the chest. Go, learn what you can."
When Mathues talks about the chest the dwarf says, voice deep and gravel-rich, "I'll stay and guard the chest. Go, learn what you can."
"Thank you; I will take the next watch, then, so you'll have a chance to roam the city yourself before the evening," the druid offered.
"I'll stay and guard the chest. Go, learn what you can."
Petronia crosses her arms, "Nonsense! Didn't you see Ner disappear when I mentioned drinking? He's already down in the hold with the chest and it doesn't need two guardians."
She grins and jingles her belt pouch, "I'm not missing my opportunity to go toe to toe with a dwarf and ale. I'm buying so you'd be a fool to not take advantage." She turns to Matheus, "Of course that includes you too."
The brawler then laughs, "Good thing we're getting paid because I may be broke after tonight." Her grin turns mischievous, "Unless we find a way to make quick coin with the locals. I bet they'd think I couldn't take a punch let alone throw one."
As arranged, the captain had instructions to secure further travel for the Pathfinders, and the cabin boy leaps onto the pier and races away to do just that. In less than twenty minutes he comes back with a slip of paper, instructing them to meet the next boat tomorrow morning, at a different harbour inland.
It's clear that the crew of the Froth Wolf don't want the landlubbers under foot as they unload their cargo. Collecting their gear and their chest, they head off into Kalsgard.
The de facto capital of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings might be a cosmopolitan city to the locals, but after the metropolis of Absalom, it's less than impressive. The city is divided into nine quarters, and the Pathfinders are pointed in the direction of the Fire Quarter, where there is food, accommodation, and entertainment aplenty.
A two-story inn, The Salty Tusk, had vacancies, and they took rooms there. Ner took first watch, while the other three took to the common room to find food, drink, and meet the locals.
The room in The Salty Tusk was quiet. Ner collected everyone's kits early so he could watch over them and the chest. After a short while he started to get bored so he took a look at what was left behind ... he carefully unpacked everyone's bags, laying things out on the floor, and took stock. Then he repacked everything in their original bags but in the order he thought best ... though he tried hard, some incidental objects may have been repacked in the wrong bags. For some reason Petronia didn't like it when 'their' stuff didn't go in the original bags.
Kazmir is about to decline when Petronia puts it in frame of a contest, a battle of wills and constitution. That, of course, he could not turn down, not from someone who was quickly becoming a rival.
In the Salty Tusk, Kazmir orders a stout ale and finds a table, keeping at eye on Petronia the whole time. He was waiting for the woman to make the first move, whatever it might be.
Petronia makes sure she gets herself and Matheus the same drink as Kazmir. If this is going to be a drinking contest of sorts, they needed a level playing field.
Before Matheus can begin talking or Kazmir begin glowering (although did he ever really stop?) Petronia raises her tankard to the other two and says the only local word she knows, "Skål! After their first drink quickly disappears, she orders another round and watches in fascination at the numerous activities going on the the Salty Tusk.
She finds the odd one-legged wrestling particularly intriguing. Not thinking it fair to challenge her co-workers, she walks over to challenge the one who currently had bested all other challengers that night. Obviously a local, not an overly large Ulfen but definitely no weakling. He dismisses Petronia at first, thinking she's had too much to drink to be foolish enough to challenge him. But when she offers to make it interesting with a wager, he can't refuse the easy money.
The brawler is a bit unsteady on her foot as she balances while they link elbows. But before she loses her balance, she practically yanks the man's arm off. His balance may have been better but he can't keep his footing with her feat of strength and he grudgingly gives Petronia her winnings. "I'd give you a chance to win your coin back but I'm in a drinking contest with a dwarf so..." She offers her hand to shake before returning to their table.
She downs her second drink seeing that Kazmir already has finished his and she orders a third round, using her winnings to pay for it. When they both have full mugs again, she looks at Kazmir and then points at the table next to them where they're playing something called ale-tug, "Care to give that a go?"
Kazmir raises a glass to Petronia's 'toast', it would be unthinkable otherwise. Whatever his problems with dwarven culture, this was one that he had never had much problem with. However, as he watched the strong, lithe woman down the frothing liquid a small part of him flashed to his father, raving and drunk, beard clotted with foam, roaring in anger, fists raised......
Kazmir shook his head and down his own ale. The dwarf watches as Petronia defeats the local champion at stork wrestling and finds himself letting out a cheer when she topples him. Rivals yes, but a good victory was a good victory. Besides, they were comrades in arms...of a sort.
Kazmir grunts at Petronia's offer at first and turns to Matheus, "You will be the judge? Or do you wish to contest with us?" The dwarf actually smiles, "I can wrestle you both at once." He clenches a massive, scarred fist.
Kazmir grunts at Petronia's offer at first and turns to Matheus, "You will be the judge? Or do you wish to contest with us?" The dwarf actually smiles, "I can wrestle you both at once." He clenches a massive, scarred fist.
"It's not the Ulfen way to refuse a challenge, and while we are visitors here it's only proper to respect the local ways," Matheus grinned, lowering his flagon on the table. "The loser pays for the drinks, agreed?"
Matheus had found himself enjoying the evening in town wholeheartedly. It was all coming back to him... bard singing old legends in the taverns, the loud and boisterous ways of the locals, the competitions and the challenges... the language. The long journey had been more than enough time to get comfortable with the local dialect after so long a time since he had last needed it, and the druid had already put that and his usual affable manner to good use, buying drinks and exchanging wild stories with the locals. Not that he had learned much of use, but there were times no news could be good news, and at least none had claimed the trip to Trollheim could be expected to be unusually difficult.
As Ner explored the contents of his compatriots packs, he didn't notice a small section of the wall slide open, revealing a dark space behind it. A face appeared at his back, peering through the hole, then the chunk of wall silently slid back into place.
A few moments later, there was a knock at the door. "Sir! Suppertime! I've brought you a tray, sent up by your friends."
Meanwhile, below, Petronia, Matheus and Kazmir were setting up for their competition. A special three-way rope was provided - three lengths of sturdy rope, tied at a central knot. The human, the dwarf, and the skinwalker took their places on the edges of a circle drawn on the floor, each holding one end of the rope. They held the rope in one hand, and a full tankard in the other. A laughing Ulfen man waited until they were ready, then shouted, "Ready, steady, pull!" They lifted the tankard to their lips and began chugging the rich ale, and tried to pull the others off-balance at the same time.
Ner had been sitting on the floor arranging Matheus sling bullets in a group so that they could more easily be counted when it happened ...
a knock at the door. "Sir! Suppertime! I've brought you a tray, sent up by your friends."
He suddenly sat bolt upright like the door had been glass and was suddenly battered but a great shark. Pertronia doesn't get the food? I get the food ... is she trying to tell me something??? Does she think I get food badly?! ... Nooo! Maybe it's good. Maybe it's a thank-you for something? Noooo! It's probably the Matheus Man, he's kinda different and likes food a lot - maybe he doesn't know that I get the food.
Leaving the sling bullets as they lay, he stood up after a little internal battle and walked to the door. He talked to himself as if he were some sort of sycophantic butler, "'sent up by your friends' ... 'your friends' ... 'excuse me serra. Didn't mean to bother you. Your friends sent you up this sumptermous meal.', and he opened the door wide.
The ale is thick and more hearty then before (not to mention it is the third....fourth? tankard). Kazmir can feel it land like a hot stone in his belly, releasing a dizzying fire to his limbs. His stomach clenches in pain, but like a true dwarf, it merely drives him on.
With a roar he heaves on the knotted rope with enough strength to make the fibers stretch, almost outdoing Petronia and Matheues combined. His feet have firm purchase on the stone floor of the tavern and the heavy dwarf does not slide. For a moment his usually grim look vanishes to replaced by a grin of victory.
Petronia gives the rope a mighty pull, nearly pulling the rope from Matheus's hand. But her enthusiasm spoiled her balance, and she spilled the majority of her drink.
Kazmir stood solid against the skinwalker's pull, and retaliated in turn. He pulls Petronia a few inches into the circle. He grins in victory, then splutters as he takes too great a gulp of the foamy ale.
The human druid, however, manages to keep his feet as he is pulled bodily into the circle. He doesn't pause drinking, however, and manages to chug the entire tankard, barely spilling a drop.
The bystanders roar their approval, though it's hard to tell who won - the dwarf who pulled two larger contenders, or the druid who managed to drink anyway.
***
Upstairs, Ner throws open the door open to be confronted by an Ulfen youth carrying a tray. Upon it is a plate of roast meat slathered in rich gravy, a pile of potatoes and boiled vegetables, and a foaming tankard.
Looking around at the room, covered in stuff, the boy says, "Where shall I put it, sir?"
Petronia looks morosely at her mostly empty flagon since she's wearing the majority of her drink. She signals for another round to be brought to the table. She claps both Matheus and Kazmir on the shoulder. "Good thing I was buying anyways." Then she mock growls, "I should punch you both for making me spill my drink."
She grins, "Best two out of three?"
Matheus had known from the beginning he could never match muscles with the other two, but he had at least counted on his sheer size and mass to help him keep Petronia occupied for a while... not that that plan got anywhere, as the two warriors tugged the large druid every which ways, during which the dwarf's feet moving not even an inch. Matheus's lips, however, stayed glued to the tankard despite the other's best efforts and while some of Kazmir's drink ended up going down the wrong way, Matheus drained his own cleanly.
Like the audience, Matheus wasn't all that sure who won by the points, but he didn't care, he simply joined the audience in a cheer and motioned a waitress for another tankard.
"Good thing I was buying anyways." Then she mock growls, "I should punch you both for making me spill my drink."
She grins, "Best two out of three?"
"Mercy, my Lady," Matheus pleaded, a twinkle in his eyes as Petronia voiced her threat. "Perhaps recompense is in order, for the insult given? The next round's on me." He caught the eye of the waitress again and raised three fingers in the air, gesturing at Petronia and Kazmir and himself.
Looking around at the room, covered in stuff, the boy says, "Where shall I put it, sir?"
Ner raised his hands in a 'gimme' gesture, his eyes wide and appreciative. He took the plate and balanced it atop the chest. He went back to the door, took the tankard, closed the door, and set the tankard down in front of it. Not only did he not think to tip the boy but he forgot about the tankard. His stomach growled but his first instinct was to find something to pack-rat away the food for later ... 'Oh, but a little taste now won't hurt anything, just a little bit and save the rest for later???. He took out his dagger and cut away a piece of the meat, dipped it heavily with gravy and skewered a floppy carrot on the end. He drew the food to his lips as he drooled suddenly realizing that he hadn't finished counting sling bullets. He sat back down in front of them one ... two ... three, the dagger moved slowly to his lips, gravy dripped off the point ... but wait, what was that thing. He pulled out the any-tool and started examining it. Oooooo! ... and took a bite of the gravy carrot and beef.
Bellies full of food and good ale, and a little extra coin in their purses, Petronia, Kazmir and Matheus finally made their way back up to their room. Opening the door, they immediately knocked over a tankard of ale, which sloshed over floor.
The room was neat and tidy; no sign that Ner had been rooting through their stuff.
The next morning came a bit too early for some. They had time for a quick cold breakfast of hard bread, cheese, sausage and ale. Then it was time to haul the chest down to the Bone Quarter and find their boat.
Petronia kicks over the tankard and immediately exclaims, "Ner! She looks for the halfling as he had a tendency to hide even when alone, "That's a waste of perfectly good ale. You know glasses go on the table."
After they got themselves settled for the night, She leans over and asks Ner quietly, "So, did you find anything interesting in our gear?" She gives him a stern look, "You better have put everything back exactly where you found it."
She sighs. I guess I should tell the others in the morning about Ner's...tendencies
The next morning, the brawler feels like about twenty fuzzy caterpillars were coating her tongue. Her head aches dully, putting her slightly on edge, but nothing that she would consider painful. She makes no effort to comb the rat's nest that her hair had become and her nose wrinkles slightly at the smell of stale ale that wafted from her clothes that had been soaked the night before.
Petronia kicks over the tankard and immediately exclaims, "Ner! She looks for the halfling as he had a tendency to hide even when alone, "That's a waste of perfectly good ale. You know glasses go on the table." ... After they got themselves settled for the night, She leans over and asks Ner quietly, "So, did you find anything interesting in our gear?" She gives him a stern look, "You better have put everything back exactly where you found it."
Ner shimmied out from under one of the beds with short bow and an arrow in either hand. He felt a wave of shame wash over him. That was the ale they sent up, THEY sent it up just for him, and he forgot all about it ... but the rod with all of the flat bars and spikes was so interesting. He thought he'd take another look when things once again got quiet. Then thinking of the food sent up, most of it still wrapped in a long bandage drooling gravy over the healer's kit in his bag, and got worried about his position in the group. He had become certain that the Matheus man was mostly responsible for sending it up.
As to the other matter, Ner nodded at Kazmir's bag then Matheus, "That one was boring ... but that one was interesting"
In the morning, he walked over to where the druid was sleeping. He stood there staring. When the human cracked an eyelid Ner reprehended him, "I get the food!" Then he ran out and got breakfast set up for everyone on one of the common tables - perhaps overdoing it a little. There ... glad I nipped that in the bud! He packed half of his breakfast in with last nights supper and his contented smile grew wide and absent-minded.
That's up to you guys. I don't have anything specific for that, so we can RP or handwave it.
*** Following morning ***
After their evening of drink and revelry, Matheus had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow and had spelt like a log… while making all sorts of lumberyard-associated noises throughout the night, the kinds of which one would be hard pressed to label mere snoring. It was a good thing the others had plenty of time to get used to the sound, after their long journey confined aboard the Froth Wolf.
A stray ray of light through the dirty window shifted enough to shine directly on the druid’s face, finally disturbing his sleep, and the fat man opened one eye, blearily meeting Ner’s gaze. The little man promptly fled the room, saying something that Matheus’s sleepy brain filtered out, with the exception of the one important word at the end – food. He was feeling a bit peckish. A breakfast or several would be just about perfect.
The Pathfinders find their riverboat with little trouble, and are pleased to find that there's enough room on it for them each to have a small, private berth. They pay for the privilege, but the money provided by Dreng is just enough to cover it.
The journey passes uneventfully, if a bit boring - there's no alcohol allowed on this ship. The weather remains cold and clear, very little in the way of wind. They watch the frozen landscape slip past; snowy mountains to the north, and white rolling hills and thick spruce forests on either side of the Rimeflow River. When on deck, they must remain bundled up, fur-lined hoods keeping the worst of the cold from stealing the heat from their heads.
Finally, late on the fourth day, their destination comes into view; Trollheim.
This Ulfen city is home to about twelve thousand in habitants, almost entirely human. Wooden houses abound, though some of the larger or richer buildings are stone. The forest has been cleared away from the city walls, though copse of trees and frozen ponds are dotted here and there.
The riverboat docks on one of the many piers in the Castle Hill district. They depart without trouble, and begin to make their way through the city. Skagni's house is on the edge of town, in the Riverside district. The handwritten directions provided by Dreng's assistant are hard to read, and they take a few wrong turns before finding the place. However, there's a problem.
Where the directions indicate Skagni’s house should be stands only the charred husk of a burnt-out building. Bits of burnt timber and ruined furniture lie scattered about, but if anything remained after the fire, it seems to have been picked over and looted. Though most of the walls are blackened with soot, a patch along the former front of the residence still shows relatively clean, white walls. Smeared across those white walls, written in reddish-brown letters four feet tall, are the words, “Pathfinders go home.”
”Well now,” Matheus muttered as he stared at the message writ on the walls. He wondered briefly if the person unknown had used blood to produce that dismal hue, or something worse, but decided it didn’t pay to find out. Nor, he thought, to stand around here gawking.
”I think it’s best if we fall back to rethink our options,” he said quietly. ”Could be this was the work of a small group of discontents, or perhaps the whole town has turned against Skagni. Either way, I doubt the man is sitting around in these cold ruins, awaiting us, and spending time here will only get us associated with him in the minds of the townsfolk. If we want that, there will be plenty of opportunities for it later. I propose we find an inn to stash the chest and start asking questions, quietly-like, to figure out what is going on.”
Having no compunction about getting naked in front of the others, Ner took off his armour and traveling clothes and redressed for winter. He was filthy through-and-through and it added to the comical nature of his smallness. Then under the dirt, people could briefly see the story of having lived in the wild and years of malnutrition written on his body.
They left the Froth Wolf behind and Ner looked excited. His winter wools itched underneath his armour and he scratched himself at the neck and wrists but he looked at everything. His winter cloak, the thick sheep's skin with its long white wool, hid his scrawny body and made him look like a plump sheep. His feet were still bare but he had wrapped his toes against frost bite - each wrapped individually, then all wrapped together. He smiled as he sometimes pretended to help take some of the weight of the chest.
In the distance the words were big and easy to read but so was the message of the burnt building and Ner's face went uncharacteristically blank. His instincts started to kick in, this is a danger place, a no sleep place, an eat when you can but prepare to go hungry place. He wanted to walk on by like nothing was amiss but saw the team stop to take a look That's smart, strangers would be curious ... someone scared would pretend nothing is wrong. He took a good look and he nodded silently at the idea of an inn.
Kazmir grunts at the burned out husk of a building. The dwarf, a natural pessimist, was hardly shocked to find trouble. What mission of this type ever went smoothly?
"We should at least search for tracks, and get an idea how long it has been like this. If it was today or yesterday....that is worse then if Skagni just wore out his welcome with the locals."
The cold meant nothing to the dwarf and his magical boots kept the nipping wind at bay as he moved to root through the cold ruins.
"Besides," he called back, "Maybe they left a trap or surprise that could reveal something of their intentions and identity."