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The rain lets up for a little, yet its cold sourness remains and the overcast sky shows no effort towards cheering the mood. When Osprey assigned you this venture to Taldor’s wine country, he said the region was pleasant. As usual, his words were misleading. The coast was pleasant, the mires surrounding the Railford Distillery are not.
“This mission is easy,” he said, “All you need to do is travel to Railford, find the son of Iodon Railford and convince him to let the Pathfinders use part of his distillery as a lodge. We have finances, we can protect him, and if nothing else, we can help him honor the work of his father, who afterall, was one of us.”
The path to Railford is hardly an easy one to follow, especially after the spring thaw waters turn the thick clay soil to slough. Only a few crudely scarred trees denote the secluded route as it winds through the syrupy mire of flooded vineyards and vague remnants of rotten trellis with grapevines choked out by prevasive briars and heavy blankets of peat.
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Physically Leon is a hulking brute. Covered in armor with a nasty sharp farming tool strapped to his massive back he looks quite dangerous. Especially those massive hands that each look like they could snap a normal human in half.
But it helps keep the bandits in their place as they travel. He seems a bit dim, but perks up after each day of travel as they stop to camp or at an Inn. Happy to share any sort of booze, he seems to have a black hole in his stomach, at least for alcohol.
At the very beginning of your travels he greets everyone with a big handshake, "I Lee-awn. I good ah grabbin bountehs. I grab, den squeeze, den dey nap."
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Once his allies let him know they are actually close to their destination his general scowl lessens, "Dis nawt fancy prettah place. Dis jus fahmland. Dis good."
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A tall lithe man, Menes fails to make much of an impression at first glance. His tattered pack and array of strange devices hanging from his hip seem of little interest. His tanned and weathered hide prove a tendency to spend time outdoors, but nothing truly stands out. He's just...there.
"Hello there Lee-awn, it's a pleasure. I'm called Men-is." he replies to the hulking figure. "I too tend to get up close with those that oppose me. I logical mind and quick jab are more my style. However, I do abide by the old saying 'An unarmed Foe hurts less'."
While they travel, he keeps a watchful eye over the trail and seems friendly enough...though a bit abrupt for some. It's quite clear he has hasn't learned the 'niceties' of 'polite society'.
"A bit damp for my liking." grumbles the monk. "More water here than we get in a year at home."
Shaking his head softly, 'I may have to re-evaluate my agreement with the Decemvirate. Not sure field work was the right move.'
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The well-dressed halfling appears only to half-listen as Osprey describes the mission, his mind largely focused elsewhere.
"So, you want us to sweet talk a vitner, eh?" he affirms after the briefing. "Consider it done."
The halfling acts pleasant enough as he accepts the extended hand of sizable Leon and nods in greeting to Menes, hiding a desire to share the long journey with more "accomplished conversationalists".
"When we get to Railford, perhaps it best if you allow me to do the talking." he suggests.
Upon arriving in the countryside dotted with rundown vineyards and unkempt farms, the halfling gives a shiver in his slick, allowing the remains of the recent rain to drip from his coat and the brim of his hat.
"Hrm." he mutters while surveying the area. "My assessment of Railford may have been a bit too generous. Perhaps Leon here may be best spokesman for this job."
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Boaz stands as he examines the mires near Railford. "What a dreary place". A shiver is sent down his spine. "Gozreh be pleased though. The coast was spectacular. Can we just head back there?"
The half-orc known as Boaz Kostaz stands tall. He nods at Leon and Menes. "I too also itch for close up combat. Though I pray to the Wind and the Waves that this mission isn't like my last one.". Another shiver. "The gods seemed to have cursed me. I had to prove myself worthy.
Then Boaz turns to Howirk. [b]"Do you know anything of Railford? I must confess, I have never travelled to Taldor before."
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Alas and alack, for Railford is yet to be reached. Thick mists cloak the so-called road. Why anyone would want to come this way is a little beyond you. Oh that's right. Those of you who served some time in the local militia heard a bit about it. Railford is a common stop over for soldiers, vagabonds, and others passing through these lands that seek a little debauchery and Railford’s infamous hooch.
With all the water around, at least one of the prime ingredients is in ready supply. The mist is broken by the not-occasional-enough bought of rain. And while the 'road' is tough going, it is at least semi-safe. The lands to each side look decidedly dodgy.
As you trudge wetly along the muddy path, feel free to include a perception check.
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"Do you know anything of Railford? I must confess, I have never travelled to Taldor before."
"I know its spirits are like none other." Howrik replies. "Seems to attract all kinds."
"I wonder what makes them so appealing?" he asks rhetorically, holding a hand out to take measure of whether more rain is accompanying the mist. "Haven't seen much notable in the way of fruit. 'Though it would seem there is no shortage of water."
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An interesting young gal has been accompanying the group and enjoying listening to their exchanges. She has a smile on her face, a look of wonder in her eyes, and horns protruding from her forehead. Horns with pink bows tied around them. Her leather armor is uniquely designed as it is more of a long vest that cinches just below the bosom and has matching arm wraps that are worn over sleeves of an off-white that matches the tunic she wears under her vest. Her combination of shorts and thigh-high boots leaves a thin strip of her pale flesh exposed.
"We never had this much rain growing up in Jalmeray," she says, brightly. "Of course, when it was raining, mother made me stay inside the library. It was so boring! It's so much better to be out and exploring and actually seeing the world. Even if it is a very wet world," she says, shaking some of the rain from her shoulder-length black hair.
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The bald dwarf wipes rain from his shaven scalp, and dries it on his beard. He is dressed very simply, in simple brown robes, and carries a walking stick. The only obvious weapon is a cold forged siangham tucked into a cloth belt, but even he seems oblivious of its presence.
Markus shakes his head, No I've never been to Taldor either, but I was mildly excited about being sent to a winery on a mission. Lili and I just were in Galt, it was all pumpkins and undead everywhere. he nods at the sorceress, continuing on, Its a shame the weather isn't better though, I'd like to see this countryside more, but we are well out of the way of anything aren't we?
The dwarf peers into the fog and mist, shrugs, and continues putting one foot in front of the other, Menes, where did you say home was again? Did you study in Jamerlay? Markus asks, as he fingers the very simple necklace he wears with the icon of Irori decorated with a simple, but somewhat tattered feather.
And to the halfling he adds, Great, thanks for volunteering to do the talking, I'll be happy to sample the wine and be a presence for the Pathfinders. We have a lot of strong lookin folks, hopefully we aren't needed at all here. he smiles at Howirk.
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The rain starts again and all darkens. The creepers and overgrowth do little to help the situation, blocking some of the rain but casting strange twisting shadows. Markers become more difficult to see.
Luckily you have Howirk with you whose keen eyes pick the eroded stones out of the mist with ease.
What he also notices, is ahead in the mist a small fire, maybe fifty yards ahead of you.
If you touch anything or anyone while holding a charge, even unintentionally, the spell discharges.
I don't think there is anything about limiting the touch to a single hand. I'm very happy with you having it precast, but there are significant drawbacks to remember as well.
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"Fire?" Lili says, surprised that something could burn in all this wetness. "I suppose we should go see if anyone needs help?" she says, somewhat uncertain.
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"Huh? Jamerlay? No, sir. I'm from the Mana Wastes." he replies. "This is my first time venturing so far from the homelands."
"Fire?" he inquires, turning toward the strange devil lady. Looking around at the mist and rain again, he nods slowly. "Oh, you mean in a hooded lantern. Hmmm, wonder whom else has the pleasure of being out in this. Perhaps it's our contact."
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Drawing a pair of bars linked by a chain, Menes walks up next to Leon. 'I suppose it's time to see what everyone is capable of.'
"If you thugs insist on pursuing this course of action, we will be forced to give you a brutal beating. Make sure you are ready before proceeding." he states in a matter-of-fact fashion.
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The pathfinder team peers into the mist, as several shapes advance on you.
As the first dog reaches him, Leon engulfs it in a huge bearhug. The dog tries to bite him, as the other dog tries to sink its teeth into the tough dwarven flesh of Markus
The dog in a dirty pink coat manages to sink its teeth into Leon. Ouch.
From out in the mists, in the distance, you can hear other voices raised in query.
Status: Bold may post
Boaz (11)
Corgrin (10)
Lilli (7)
Markus (5)
Howirk(4)
-- start of round 2--
Menes (21)
Leon (12) (grappled, in control) 3 damage
Soldiers & dogs:(12)
red soldier (12)
blue solider (12)
green dog (12)
pink dog (12) (grappled)
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The dog in a grubby green vest whimpers as Markus gives it a solid kick. But it doesn't go down.
Status: Bold may post
Boaz (11)
Corgrin (10)
Lilli (7)
Howirk(4)
-- start of round 2--
Menes (21)
Leon (12) (grappled, in control) 3 damage
Soldiers & dogs:(12)
red soldier (12)
blue solider (12)
green dog (12) 5NL damage
pink dog (12) (grappled)
Markus (5)
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The somber man, who only barely introduced himself as Corgrim, even if he was listening each of you intensely, broke his joyless silence.
Dogs ain't my friend either.
You feel he isn't happy to walk in the mud, and that the outdoors aren't is favorite place. The never ending rain, of course, didn't helped
He moves quickly toward the nearest tree, putting his back to it, bow in hand, and shoots a soldier, maybe a little too hastily
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Howirk slowly makes his way forward, through the mud. Yuck. That ain't going to be good for his boots. As he does so, Leon gives a big heave. The dog lets out a single pained whine before it stops fighting.
Menes steps up to the green dog, knocking it unconscious.
Boaz moves forward, striking with his axe, as the solider strikes back at him. Lili reaches out a clawed hand in a similar tactic.
While Boaz ducks the sword, Lili is not so lucky as the man strikes with formidable accuracy. Lili's revenge is quick however and the man drops to the mud with a horrid look on what remains of his face.
Boaz's axe has a similar affect on the other solider who drops his weapon as he slumps to the ground.
The mists swirl around, damping noise as well as your clothes. You can hear calls from other groups of soldiers out in the mist.
Status: Combat over.
Boaz
Corgrin
Lilli 2/9hp
Markus
Howirk
Menes
Leon 3/17hp
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Quickly, the rogue searches the fallen soldiers, not as much for money or loot (even if it's always appreciated) but for any official document that would explain their presence
Taldan Phalanx soldiers. Nothing much than a bunch of thugs, except they have official backing, and a uniform. Maybe this mist can help us escape..
Corgrim hides himself in a swirl of mists
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The man looks with greed and envy at the exquisite bows, and some of the arrows
Can't use the bow myself, but those, and the cold iron arrows, might fetch a good price, or be useful. Beware if a soldier shoots at you with these bows, it with leave a deep and nasty wound
Corgrim picks 10 cold iron arrows for himself
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Glancing towards the items with disinterest, Menes shrugs. "If you want them, take them. We won, so they forfeit their claim to the gear."
"So, they are thugs hired by the local establishment? Intriguing. I wonder why they were out here dissuading entry... Too bad they are in no state to answer questions."
Squinting into the mist, past the thugs. "I'm suspecting our goals are further this way. Whenever you have finished picking through their pockets, let us continue."
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Da Brute unclenches his hands right as he was about to grab another target. His normal scowl returns, "Dis not good, less go before more come." He moves through the camp and grabs a dropped bow with any of the fancy arrows that remain.
As they move on he speaks quietly to his allies, "Dis normah? Towns guarded like dat?"