The guard could tell that the battle was turning in their own favor now; the last cultists needed to be put down and then they could secure this godforsaken place. As flesh burned and screams erupted, the captain yelled for his men to press the advantage.
The flames keep the majority of the guards back, unwilling to let themselves be caught aflame. Even still, a few strikes land true.
The last cultist drops, and... it's over. blessedly over. people are dead, at least twenty in this hall, and who knows how many more due to the cult's machination, but the demon will remain in the void. the survivors rouse Silas.. and find the pieces of HUIVD.
Two guards will not walk out of that chamber. Three more will see this every night in their sleep. Our heroes, some of them, anyway, have walked away from another dread presence bodies intact... though, what of their hearts, minds, and souls?
It was a warm afternoon as the winds blew through the trees, a smile upon Silas' face. Rays of sunlight speared through the canopy above, shafts of illumination that brought an almost unreal beauty to the forest around him. It was one of his favorite places to go, far away from the stench of the tannery that permeated everything around him. Everything was about to change though after today, a new life with a beautiful woman that he had admired ever since he was a boy. Mathilda was going to be his and he would start a new life within her father's mill. It would be hard work but hard work would lead to a purposeful future.
His thoughts were cut off by a laugh, one as gentle as falling rain and as enchanting as flowers in bloom. In his peripheral, he saw something or someone moving. The forest seemed different, it was no longer the familiar steps that he had been raised with. Yet ahead of him was a path, illuminated by beautiful rays of light and flowers of shades he had never seen. How Mathilda would love such a flower. With loving steps, he walked past the brambles with a muddled mind into the trap ahead. After all, what harm could a flower cause?
Silas woke from the ground, coughing dry blood as consciousness returned. His head pounded and his face and shirt were soaked with blood. A man stood above him, clothed but bloodied as well. He feebly reached for his sword beside him, his vision still blurred as a young man's voice spoke to him.
"Be still. Y-you're alright, we won. They're dead...they-they're all dead." The smell of sex and lust had given way to a scent of burning flesh, freshly spilled innards, and so much blood. Sitting up where he sat with the help of the young guard, his eyes flickered over the scene of battle to see who still was standing. Memories returned to him slowly, the priest breathing out that smoke that shattered his mind. He could see Baros, the halfling covered in blood once more and looking just as exhausted. There was another one of the short folk as well as the goblin who had joined them a little while ago. Nowhere was the mechanical dog and when Silas gazed upon the wrecked metal, he shook his head.
"Oh Hund..." Silas muttered, grimacing even at the sound of his voice. The battle was bloody, the cost was high, but they had been victorious. The demon was sealed away still and the dark leaders of this cult had been slain. The little hamlet was saved.
When it was all over, Clay breathed a sigh of relief. It was done.
She looked at the guards and the halfling and the goblin. You.. you saved me. Th-thank you! Oh thank you so much!
You get a single day of peace, before a priest, calling himself "Father Alypius" and a dozen soldiers in Brigandine and sackcloth came to the town. The Blades of Astrid, the inquisition, arriving just 2 days too late to have stopped the demon, but they don't let that little fact stop them from turning the town inside out trying to root out diabolists.
While the inquisition is present, the actions, Vigilantism, Gambling, Fighting, Brothel are unavailable. All other actions with a wealth cost double their cost, and any action rolls are made with 1 bane. This does not affect the Pray action, as the inquisition is all for more prayer.
The group can spend a Side-quest action each to move against the inquisition, but this might have serious consequences
It was over. It was finally over. Clay wandered the wreckage of the ritual room, surveying the carnage around her. Death was everywhere. She didn’t understand why they did this. What was going through their heads? Why did people have to be like this? So many lost lives. But she was alive. She had survived. And it was all thanks to the watch captain and his guards.
Come on, lass, time to go, the watch captain said. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she winced back away from him, not used to people in authority treating her like a normal person. Sorry, he said, removing his hand, but this is no place for a young lady. Let my men take you outside.
Clay nodded along, only partially aware of everything around her. As they walked up the stairs, she could see more cultists - those who weren’t a part of the ritual - sitting on the ground in manacles. The guards had already arrested them. She walked past Swiet’s office, remembering that her stuff was still in there. Wait, she requested of her chaperone, and she moved into his office to grab her belongings. And perhaps a little extra. She swept the five silver into her bag, as well as her sling and artisan tools. And what’s this? A little tiny demon idol. That’s probably worth something. She grabbed that, too, and a strange jar of liquid that she wasn’t quite sure what it was. Ok, I”m ready.
That night, she could barely sleep. The nightmares ravaged her mind and more than once she woke up screaming. She dreamt of demons and cultists and blood and fire. She dreamt of her past and running from soldiers and knights and wardens as they chased her family. Her family. She hadn’t thought about her family in a long time. She wondered how her brothers were and if they escaped the guards the last time a deal went south. She wondered how her sisters were. She didn’t much care for her mother - was it her mother? She was the closest thing to a mother she knew. But she was a changeling - a block of clay carved and animated by fey magic. But that didn’t mean she didn’t care about the people she grew up with.
She remembered her grandmother. Her grandmother! Yes! That was it! Her grandmother used to teach her about salves and poultices that could ease the mind and body. That’s what she needed.
The next day, she set out to buy some new things; she wasn’t quite sure what she needed, but she knew who she could talk to. That goblin - Rardon was his name? She sought him out, first by asking the guards (nervously) where her saviors were, and then following the directions.
-------------------------------
Clay had a little smile on her face as she walked home with her new alchemist’s kit. She didn’t think it required alchemy; she had thought it would just be some herbs or something, but the little goblin seemed to know what he was talking about and she trusted him for some reason. But what she hadn’t expected was that it would be so darn expensive. She needed money. The damned kit had taken almost everything she had! Well, she knew one way to get money fast.
Over the next week, she planned and prepared to make another forgery. She knew a good piece, and there were always buyers around. People liked their art. She gathered up some clay and started spinning the wheel, shaping and creating until it was perfect. When she was done, she had a well made copy of a moderately famous tea pot. Well, famous in her world. She met with the buyer two days after it came out of the furnace.
The ally was dark, but the fey magic that brought her to life allowed her to see into the shadows. There he was. A human, tall and muscular with an unshaven face and yellowed teeth.
H-hello? she called out, fear causing her to stumble on her words.
Over here. You got it? said the gruff man.
Y-yes. Yes, I have it. Right here.
Good, hand it over. He took the small pot and inspected it, looking it over with an experienced eye. It’s passable. It’ll work. Here’s your money. He tossed a small sack of coins on the ground and Clay quickly grabbed it up, looking inside.
Umm.. Excuse me? she called out.
What?
Th-This is only half of what we agreed on.
And?
What? Did he really intend to only pay her half? What an a+%%@%@!
And it’s only half! I need that money!
Be thankful that you got that much. And that you didn’t leave here with a broken hand.
What? A broken.. What? The audacity! What?
Look, kid, the guy said, be thankful for what you got. You press this, and my boss might notice you. You don't want that. The man paused, and then pulled something out of his jacket. Here, take this as a consolation prize. Some history on your people.
He tossed her a book; pages well worn and well read, with no cover. Just loose papers sewn together. My people? What do you mean by that? she asked as she looked up at him in confusion. But he was already gone.
She looked back down at the book and read the title. "There and Back Again."
The goal is going to be larceny; Silas is pretty certain that even though that lady's house burned down, they have goods that are still salvageable. He is going after them. I'm expecting that Burglar is going to give me 2-3 boons? I'm thinking that the Burglar will only give a boon for the Will challenge.
= 2 Successes
= 1 success
= 1 success
4 total success = Full & 1/2 payout, round down. I make 3 wealth, which turns to 9 with the x3 payout.
Silas will slum with his people; the lower classes of course! He drinks, tells story of home, and enjoys himself as best as he can while revealing as little of himself as possible. It will cost 4 wealth to do so.
That result gets me two allies and improves my relations with the Lower Class to +2.
Silas, having made friends, will have his drinks mostly paid for by telling tales of the strange sights he has seen on his travels. Some of them are lies, some of them are true, none can be certified by anyone. It'll cost him 4 wealth to roll.
That roll will increase Silas's relationship with the Lower Class to +4, getting us liked by them and Silas a boon when dealing with them.
On a sidenote, I am cool with going day by day as needed; it makes more of the rolls make sense overall. I like the subsystem and we can use the Discord to figure out nitty gritty details if we're doing big stuff.
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Heavy with the smell of blood and death the air stung Baros's nostrils, he once again wondered if he was becoming too comfortable with the way things have been going. The battle was over, the cult defeated, and the demon banished for the time being. Baros stood staring blankly at the gore in the room.
The sound of female voice snaps Baros back to reality, "...ank you! Oh thank you so much!" Baros jerked his head around to see the female halfling.
"Yeah, glad to help, glad we didn't just burn the whole place down, I am Baros, that human just coming to is Silas," he was about introduce Hund but pulled up short when the reality that Hund gone clicked in his head. Baros helps the other halfling out of the building.
With fighting all finished and coin in hand, Baros sped off to spend it. Setting himself up in a comfortable room he spends the next few days drinking and celebrating with the townsfolk, mainly the militia that had survived. The partying dies down a bit with the arrival of Father Alypius and the inquisition. Baros turns to regaling folks with stories but he was no great orator, or even a mediocre one.
The inquisition had cast a sour mood over the whole of the town. Also, something within Baros seems to not like them, he always felt odd around them, like he was being beckoned to unfathomable violence. It was probably just a bitter after taste of the suffering he had experienced at the hands of Old Nock. F&$+ the gods he thinks.
Having lived in exile and worked as a wilderness guide, Baros has some knowledge of plants, herbs, fungi, etc. Not as much as a herbalist or practitioner of medicine, but enough to know you keep animals away from, such locoweed and white snakeroot, some can even make the most docile animals go mad, if only for a short time. Baros is going to slip some of it into the horses' feed. The beasts became violently ill, Baros felt bad for them not like they signed up for the inquisition, but Father Alypius getting sprayed by liquid feces was well worth it in his mind. The trouble with the horses was so great that it had caused the inquisition to lose track of a coin purse or two.
Time moves forward, and a week and change pass, the stories of that night diluting in the rumour mill. Few details agree with the truth, for example, Baros does not remember leaping to give the killing blow to a demon that looked like a great ape, nor does Silas recall dueling Swiet in a ring of blue fire.
But heroism's charm wears thin. More than one townsperson has put together that sorcery was likely used in those caverns, and whispers propagate. Who were these strangers, what were they capable of.
The merchants have grown somewhat colder of you, your tables in the bar are less and less full every night. The proprietor of the frozen sparrow seems less and less pleased to have you here, and has been hinting that a merchant caravan will arrive soon, and he will definitely need more space than he currently has.
You’ve heard of a nearby town, which has been having Bandit troubles. Perhaps moving toward this Mournhaven would give your little band better prospects than waiting for your welcome to wholly expire from Granville
"Well friend, it seems our welcome has warn thin. You'd think saving them from a demon would at least be worth a month or maybe even a season," Baros says to Silas, before he can reply Baros sees the female halfling from the dungeon, "hey you think she is the adventuring sort?"
It had been a long hard day. Clay had been pushing herself in her work; focusing deep in a vain effort to quell the memories of that night. It hadn't worked.
Finally she silently screamed into her hands and got up, walking away from the mess of wet clay and tools. She needed a drink.
She'd been drinking more and more as of late. It wasn't something she normally did. Hell, it wasn't something she had ever done. But she heard that it helped. So she walked to the Frozen Sparrow. Again.
Another night to drown the pain.
She'd seen them. Of course she's seen them. How could she not? They were famous for their deeds. Rescuing the entire town from a demon. No one even looked her way. She wasn't part of the stories. She liked it better that way. Yeah, that's it, it's better that she wasn't recognized for what she'd done. It'd probably get her in trouble. She always seemed to get in trouble when people started to notice her.
But then, one of them noticed her. The halfling. She looked eyes with him for just a second, before quickly turning her head and pretending she didn't see him. F&@#; he wasn't going to believe that for a second.
Time moved forward out here in the real world, letting thoughts change to memories before being forgotten. Such was the kindness that they had provided them, the town seemed to be getting surly at the freeloaders who were coasting on by with drinks and smiles. The Inquisition had moved on and the bars had become less and less dense with eager crowds wanting to see the heroes. Silas chuckled it all away, the faeries at least didn't forget anything ever. They always remembered. He had gotten what he wanted though, a little more power. Before the Inquisition burned the barn and compound to the ground, he was able to get a few different papers and works. Works that radiated magic. He could sense their power and learned what he could about tricking the mind into believing his commands.
"Yeah, you'd think that. Ungrateful f%@$s." Silas muttered, finishing his mug of ale quickly. The gentle numbness of alcohol settled onto him nicely and when Baros mentioned the other halfling, he snorted. "Getting lonely these nights Baros?" He teased with a smirk, ripping a piece of bread and biting in hungrily. Thinking it over for a moment, he'd nod. "I'll go ask her. I heard there was something going down in Mournhaven, something about bandits. Should be nice and simple." Rising from his table, he meandered his way over towards the female halfling and sat in one of the empty chairs at her table. He cocked his head as she pointedly tried her best not to look at him or Baros.
"Hey, my friend and I are wondering if you're interested in making some good coin? We're...adventurers." Silas said with a little bit of a shrug. "We lost a friend in that barn we rescued you from and our other friend has decided a life of priesthood fits him better. It is just the halfling and me for now. I heard you were quick on your toes and we could use that."
"Well you won't let me be the big spoon," Baros retorts with his own smirk.
Umm... hi, the small halfling girl says. Her accent is thick; she's easily identifiable both as someone from the lower classes and as someone who lived out in the country.
Look, I'm sure you're nice and all, but I... I'm not the kind of person who looks for trouble. I. I have a job now. I'm a ceramist. I make things from clay.
The girl paused to take a drink from the beer she had in front of her. She kicked the stool out next to her, inviting Silas to take a seat.
That's what got me caught by them, you know. They had an order, and I made it for them. Then they kept me down there. Probably to kill me like they did those others.
That's... that's not something I want to experience again. But I do. Every night. Every damn night. How do you do it? How do you handle the nightmares?
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Silas sits down as the young halfling begins to talk, half-listening at first as she mentions that she has a job already working here in town. Yet when she began to talk about the nightmares, the trauma, his attention zeroed in. A soft sigh left him as she asked him how he handled it, his hand lifting for the serving wench to bring him another mug of ale to drink from.
"Well...I got a lot on my mind. I've seen...I've seen an awful amount of things in my life. Baros and I met in real bad circumstances, kind of similar to how you met us. Just take my advice and if you have to pass by Asylum, do it fast and make sure you're at least a half a day away from the town when night falls. It is a ghost town now, nothing but the dead rule there." Silas thinks for a moment, nodding in appreciation and tipping the waitress a bit when she delivers him a fresh mug. He drinks deeply from it, putting it down upon the table softly.
"Each person has their own way. Some dedicate themselves to a craft like you're doing and it can help. Some find it in faith. Others find it in the bottom of a mug or in the smoke of something that takes the pain away. There isn't any single way it is taken care of. No single way it gets solved." The words are heavy and tinged with a melancholy of a man much older than the human in front of him as he stares at his cup for a few more moments before speaking again. "For myself? I confront it. S#@# won't get solved if everyone just sits and hides. I want to power to make sure I'm never a victim again, that no one I care about becomes a victim ever again." Finishing his drink, he pushes it to the side and sits up but not before smiling at her. "That's how I deal with it. I'm not the model example of a good man though either, don't get me wrong. There's just...a difference between right, wrong, and evil, you know?"
"Hell, I'm being philosophical now." He says with a laugh, shaking his head. "I heard that you helped save us. You have my thanks and appreciation. I wish you the best in whatever you do next." Standing up, he makes his way back towards Baros and sits down beside the halfling. Taking a moment of silence, he looks at his small and dangerous comrade. "She said that when you were unconscious, she saw you were a shower and not a grower and you were a two-bit show at best. Sorry friend." Silas murmurs, nodding his sadly but with a gentleman's empathy.
"Well, here is to less discerning women," Baros raises his cup. "Still it would be nice to have more than just us if we intend to look into the bandits around Mournhaven."
The door opens, letting in the chill late autumn air. Four men, brandishing farm implements and a knife, and moving toward the seated pair and the little changeling.
You rat bastard little Runt! the lead man says, hatchet brandished. I'll teach you to Muss around with my daughter. and he takes a swing at you with his fist.
and you're pretty sure he's had some liquid courage.
What does everyone do?
Baros seems confused at first, thinking the man was coming after Silas, but the looping right thrown his way left little doubt that the man believes Baros had slept with his daughter!
Baros slips from his chair and ducks under the table putting it between him and the man and his friends. "I am sorry, you must have me mistaken with someone else."
"Hey! I did no such-" Silas began to say when the man threw a punch at Baros. The halfling moved out of the way, ducking the drunken hook and moving underneath the table. There was a snort from the human as he stood up, making sure the table was between him and the other men. Lifting his hands in a disarming manner, he shook his head.
"Gentlemen, please, lets not be f#+%ing idiots tonight yeah? Baros can't lay down with any women, the best he can do is climb up them. He didn't f!$% your daughter, neither of us have any damn desire to be tied down to your little town." Silas said all this with a grin on his face, gesturing to the door. "Go home, sober up, find the real culprit alright? Before you make a mistake."
Clay watched Silas head back to his table, leaving her behind with a mind full of thoughts and questions. An invitation to leave. To go from town to town always on the move, just like her family. Did she want that? Could she just go like that? It would be th first time she left a town on her own free will, rather than being run out of town or forced to flee.
As she sat and thought and nursed her drink, a couple of men burst into the tavern throwing insults and accusations like mud at the two men. The taller one started to defend his own honor when the drunk took a swing at the halfling. What was going on?!
She hopped off her stool and walked over, throwing a question back at Silas, Womanizers?! You two really wanted me to go with you? For what? So I could be your pleasure puppet on the road?! I was honestly considering going with you, but if you just sleep around with every woman you meet, I think it's better if I just stayed away!
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The halfling starts shouting at him as well, calling him a womanizer. Silas' eyes widen, a look of anger flashing through them.
"I am no womanizer! I was always a good hus-" He bites down on the words, unwelcome thoughts and memories coming to his mind as he took a breath. "You are not helping this situation. You are smart, creative, and have the forethought to act in a bad situation rather than be frozen by it. That's all." Silas' attention turned back towards the small group of armed, drunken men.
"Men, go home to your families. We're leaving and we won't bother you or yours again, alright? Just give us the night." Silas rather not fight some prideful, drunken men. This place was growing more unfriendly by the day and Baros was right, they needed to leave.
When Baros doesn't swing back, it seems to take the wind out of the man's sails somewhat. Throwing the first punch is one thing, it seems, and beating an unresisting opponent is another.
A second man akes a nasty face, like the ale he's just taken a swig of had been replaced with vinegar. You ain't going soft on us, are you Hagar? he cajoles the lead man.
He's got a good point, bout the runt and his ability to lay with normal folk. the first man says. The third man guffaws, and makes a remark disparaging the halfling's "Manhood".
Eh. f@*% it. they ain't worth it, Arthur. he decides You two, best get come dawn, or else I might come to my senses and finish this tomorrow he says. as a final act of defiance, as they turn away, the second man ("Arthur") tosses his unsatisfactory drink at Silas.
He misses by a country mile, and the projectile goes toward Clay, who is just able to grab it... and inadvertently touches the iron band holding the wooden mug together,
The Bar erupts into shouts and fear as Clay turns into a weird mud monster almost twice her size.
What do you do?
Clay caught the flying mug out of reflex. She didn't mean to, and the iron started burning her almost instantly. She immediately dropped it and recoiled back from the mug, but it was too late. She could feel it happening. Again. She was shifting. She was so happy with this form, but soon the ugly truth was emerging.
Her face melted away first, revealing a new face underneath made of clay. It resembled an older girl or young woman - mid teens. The top of her was carved in rows to barely resemble hair. Her shoulders, arms, and torso were also a match for a young woman, but everything below that looked more like a long dress than a body. She looked like she was carved from the clay, but never hardened in a furnace. Rather, the clay was magically animated and was still malleable. She could move it around, and it shifted as she walked. Watching it was almost nauseating.
No! she yelled. Her tone of voice and accent were unchanged. It was her real voice. No, no, no, no, no!
She quickly looked around for another halfling in the tavern. Or baring that, another woman.
Silas knew that his life had to be a joke. He was threatened by people he saved, his walked from one terrible situation to another, and he didn't have the good sense to just die and let it all end. So it really didn't surprise him that much that when the poorly aimed mug thrown at him went over his head and instead aimed for the poor girl behind him. She reached out, caught the mug, and almost immediately began to change. Skin turned to unfinished clay, her expression shifting from pain to terror. There were screams of fear and shouts of panic as she swelled to her proper height. She looked panicked for a moment, looking for refuge either behind Baros or another woman who wouldn't throw her to the wolves.
His chair scooted out behind him and it was with an almost unsettling calmness that he moved between the drunken men and the fearful changeling. Baros had seen it before; it was the coldness he had when they approached the barn ready to kill and it was there when he stood against the bandit and the awful f~+~ing turkey baby thing. He sniffed hard as he did so, looking back at Clay. She would see his lips moving quickly, mumbling something as he turned his attention back to the leader of the men. A spell was cast and Silas could only hope it worked.
"Now...I know what you're thinking of doing. The next minute here is going to be real critical for everyone's well-being. She helped save your miserable little town and if you even touch her, you're worst than scum. Not only that but you'll have to deal with me and I will not be f&%@ing gentle, eh?" His hand moved to the hilt of his sword as he watched them carefully. "She'll leave her with us in the morning. No harm, no foul, no one gets hurt. Fair, right?" Silas eyes each man, daring them to test them. He wasn't too bad with a blade and knew how to defend himself. Secondly, Baros was a destructive little f$*$ and it was a kindness that he didn't claim that man's balls the moment he swung at him.
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The crowd murmurs and rumbles. Some people rush for the exit, others grab nearby objects in defense. People shout. Things are moving toward panic quickly. Silas quietly Casts a spell
And you hear someone shout Sorcerer! As he finishes. His speech is not enough, the crowd is turning on him. one man throws a chair at Clay
Everyhting is going poorly.... what do you do?
Jumping up on a sturdy four legged table, "ALRIGHT THAT IS ENOUGH!" Baros shouts, "you louts. This poor creature was kidnapped and brought her against her will to be sacrificed by a demon worshipping sex cult that you all did nothing about. We'll be leaving in the morning, the three of us. And the next person to throw so much as dirty look our way will wish they'd been born without eyes."
"Hey. Tell your friends to get on home, eh?" Silas says to the man he enchanted, looking back at the farmer in the back. "You wouldn't f%~+ing know magic if you saw it, you ignorant f~@#! Back off!" To mean his words, Silas draws his blade and stands in front of Clay's misshapen form, ready to strike any son of a b@#&* that gets close.
Ow! Clay exclaims. Not that it hurt, but it was surprising. She wasn't expecting to be hit with a chair. Who expects that?
Clay eyes the other halfling woman in the crowd and moves towards her, quickly assuming her shape with in a matter of moments. She looked identical to this other woman, with the exception that she was still in the same clothes she had already been wearing.
The crowd is taken aback, their eyes appraising. they know you could cut them down, several of them each, if it came to a fight, particularly as you are armed and they are largely not. Sorcerers mutter a few. Hellspawn another group shout at the transforming Clay. More brandish Rowan and Iron charms.
Baros moves forward a smidge and watches a few onlookers move to scramble back, while the charmed man calls for peace. Silas' Naked blade further discourages anyone from getting brave, and Clay, wrapped in flesh once more, can retreat a few steps, behind cover, in case of any more impromptu missiles.
You are quite sure You will not get another night's sleep in this town, but you think you might be able to stop the mob long enough to get into your rooms, grab your things (and perhaps a few of the inns), and be out the window.
Clay runs. She runs through the crowd, not paying attention to who she runs into or what she knocks over. She's desperate to make it to the door and escape. The entire building makes her feel claustrophobic, moreso with all the bodies reaching and grabbing for her as she flees.
Once she gets outside, she's going to beeline her way to her little hovel to grab as much as she can. Then she can leave this city once and for all. And then? She didn't think about it. She just had to get outside first.
Baros looks at Silas and gestures to the door with his head as if to say time to go. He begins to back out of the room slowly keeping a watchful eye on the crowd.
Silas notices the halfling's gentle nod and begins to make his way to the stares, holding eye contact with any other that can keep it. As he makes it to the stairs and out of earshot, he lets out a breath.
"Next time we offer to help a town, we raise the price. Ungrateful f%*~s. Bring me your sheet and blanket, we're getting out of here." Silas made his way towards his room, quickly gathering his things. Dipping them into whatever water would work to make them heavy, he would tie the sheets and blankets together to form a makeshift rope.
"C'mon, lets go. We'll find someplace better to put our feet down friend." Silas had wished to tell Mok goodbye and to thank him for his help in getting them where they were now but it would likely be more trouble for the young orc than it was worth just for pleasantries. He'd have to come back a few years later and find out how his friend was doing or if he'd have to cut the throats of a few bigots to put his friend at peace.
It is not hard to make a blanket-rope, and for people with your level of physical fitness, it is trivially easy to climb out on it.
The town is already dark, sticking to the shadows is easy, getting past the guards is a simple matter in a town without walls. it is well past midnight when you get to the ford. A small campsite beside it tells you it is sometimes impassible, and the simple shelters there will afford you your best opportunity to get rest.
Clay, it is there that the rather forward men from the bar rejoin you.
Once again, they were on the move. Yet it was just Silas and the halfling walking together under the moonlight. It was just like weeks past; just with less people. Friends were lost and in the end, it was just the furious little warrior that was keeping his company. They reached the ford and his body ached for sleep and rest. There was the burning embers of a fire, kept small to keep attention low but just warm enough to keep the ache from taking hold in their bones. It was here that the small halfling woman sat, the same one that had kicked out of their warm and comfy beds for the night.
"Well, seems we're destined to keep running into one another." Silas murmured, giving a shadow of a smile. He would settle down on the opposite of the campfire, putting his hands close to the flames to warm them softly. "It is safer for us to stay together in the night. Don't know what could come from the forest."
Clay starts for just a moment, ready to flee, but when she sees the familiar faces, she pauses. Following me? she asked.
"No, just heading in the same direction," Baros says plopping on the ground, "sorry for the trouble we caused you."
It's... it's fine, Clay says with a sigh. It's not th first time I've been run out of town. It's just. I really liked that face, ya know?
She pokes at the fire with a stick.
So where ya boys headed?
"Mournhaven, heard there were bandits harrying the area. You?"
'unno, she said, her accent thick, clearly identifying her as someone from the lower class. I was just gunna wander and see what I found.
Silas quietly sets up camp beside Baros with a practiced hand; it was obvious to Clay that the man has been used to living roughly for quite some time. He stretched out on the bedroll, staring up into the night sky for a bit. Turning his head towards her, he'd clear his throat.
"My offer still stands. I've travelled with one of your kind before, both of us have. We'll keep your secret." With a yawn, he'd nudge Baros. "You f$%#ed the farmgirl, you take first watch. I'm sleeping." With that proclamation, he rolled onto his side and pulled a threadbare blanket up to keep the night's chill away.
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"As I said, I did no such thing. I distracted her mother so one of the younger militia men could sneak of with her. Little s!#! owes me one," Baros laughs, "Get some rest, I got watch."
The night passes mercifully quiet. The dawn finds you beside the ford. It is lowering, you know it was higher in the night, but it is still deep. It is almost noon when you finally are able to cross.
The road is straight though, and you have nowhere to go, but forward to Mournhaven, or back to Granville.
Clay packs up the camp in silence, lost in thought for what will happen next. She walks we got the two men, not having anything better to do. Alert a while she says, How far so you suppose it is?
"Not too far I hope," a worn out Baros says.
As the road goes on, you start walking by a farm. the fields are full of cabbage and legume, perhaps a week from harvest. The cold wind of night has mercifully given way to a day warm enough you could believe it to be late summer.
Everyone give me a perception Challenge roll.
Clay's stomach rumbles as the day passes by. She eyes the farm, wanting to grab something to eat along the way, and hoping that there's no one around who might see her.
"Hopefully far away enough that rumors will take awhile to get there." Silas mentions, shouldering his backpack. He already missed the warmth and comfort of a bed. He felt tired in his mind. A farm finally appeared along the path, full of cabbages and legumes that seemed wonderfully delicious. The warmth of the day resonated in his bones and helped ease the ache away.
The farm seems to be abandoned, there's no people here, yourselves excepted. What was not apparent at first, but now barrows unclaim realize, is the smell of smoke lingering. It was perhaps two days ago, but something near here burned, something big enough to be a house.
It's barrows who notices the remains of the house first, it's almost mistakable, through the grains that were planted closer to it, for a few scarecrows or the like, but it's the burnt out husk of the foundations. And there's something moving in there.