Trig and Mutaq team up to take down the weakest of the two!
The remaining ooze slimes its way up to the lizardfolk, but it seems incapable of doing anything else after that.
Trig
Chupko
Mutaq
Quetzhal
Yellow
With tactical coordination the bounty hunters disintegrate the remaining ooze, and all appears to quiet again.
Trig
Chupko
Mutaq
Quetzhal
Inspecting this room in more detail you find a cache of alchemical items , but little else of interest. All of the doors seem to be magically reinforced and sealed, save for the double doors to the west. Opening them reveals a massive table and eight chairs in the center of thE room. Empty shelves line the walls, and soggy carpets cover much of the floor.
Everyone hears a sloshing sound coming from behind the door to the north , accompanied by blubbery murmurs.
As Mutaq gestures to open the door, he thinks it's odd that there is slime on the doorknob. Opening it reveals a roofless, muddy courtyard with overgrown trees and bushes. Mud and slime cake the walls and drip from the eaves onto the soaked ground where a small, winged creature wallows , sobbing to itself.
Trig absolutely terrifies him, and he dives under the muck.
...several rounds later, he pokes his head out of the mud, and stammers and sputters an introduction. "I-I-I'm sorry.. I mean I'm not sorry.. I mean I am.. Umm.. I'm Nazraz! P-Prime Assistant to.. the.. Egregiously Generous Zarzan! C-C-Currently doing his bidding! I am fully one percent to completing my marvelous plan of starving these oozes out, and recuperating this dwelling in the name of my most glorious of masters!"
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The Tengu explains the situation to the Mephit.
Well listen to me. We have done the clean up of this house. So your job job ended. You have to play the game as well and leave the house now you have no reason to stay anymore. That's what Zarzan asked us to do.
Diplomacy:
Diplomacy, hero point reroll:
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Mutaq notes the slimy doorknob and assumes it must be a result of the ooze mephit using it at soom point. Once inside the courtyard he gazes down at Nazraz with a slightly exasperated look.
"While your plan does sound quite marvelous, it is no longer needed. You are free to return to your master and tell him you succeeded, or run off and join the circus, or whatever you wish as long as it does not involve remaining in this house."
Nazraz sits up straight. "Y-You got rid of the oozes? Already? So fast?" He blinks, contemplating what the Tengu has said. "M-My marvelous.. Genius!. plan was to starve them out. Although I admit.. it was likely to take years, or even decades, but.. If that's what Zarzan asked you to do.. I guess.. Thanks.. Although maybe I should wait around for a few more months, or perhaps a year, to make sure no more oozes show up!"
"Okay. I'll clear out."
When you return to Magnimar you find Zarzan waiting at the Rusty Anchor. He thanks you for dispatching the oozes so promptly and asks about the state of the building, expressing keen interest in your description. When you mention that Nazraz left, Zarzan shrugs, accepting that you did what you had to do.
"Please, as an added thanks, take as much time as you want to rest on the island. The accommodations will probably need quite some time to air out, but you've earned my sincerest gratitude."
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Trig claps the orc on the back, "Ah, welcome to my daily life."
He sets up his cabana chair on the beach and begins slathering lotion on his pale skin in addition to hiding under an umbrella. Waving for a server to bring him a drink quickly brings him back to the reality that there aren't any servants. He shrugs and relaxes, "Well, no servants but no one trying to eat us. I call that a win."
Shortly you hear a contended snoring from him.
While vacation and relaxation can and do certainly provide the benefits of a much needed rest, they also wreak havoc on one's belt pouch. Finding yourselves once again in need of work, you arrive in southern Ustalav, at the town of Grayce, where recent troubles with the Whispering Tyrant's forces pretty much always guarantee there are protection jobs to be found. Seeking out the local bounty board outside the Ash Inn, you find a dusty scroll that must have been pinned up a couple days ago:
CARAVAN GUARDS NEEDED!
Travelers heading to Caliphas seek a group of adventurers of able body and steadfast mind to accompany them onward from Grayce. See the innkeeper, Jakivi Rindix, for more details.
As you approach the bar, the tall Kellid man behind the counter introduces himself as Jakivi Rindix, who explains that there have been some recent attacks on supply caravans traveling between Grayce and the port city of Caliphas. "You got good timing, as the drivers of the caravan are scheduled to leave this afternoon. Job's yours if you want it. Provides four gold a piece upon their safe arrival in Caliphas, and meals for the three-day journey there. Any questions?"
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Trig enters in his vacation beach clothes. After all they are the only pieces of clothing that don't reek like fecal oozes. They aren't muuuuch different from his normal matt black clothing though, but do show a significant portion (1 inch) of his waist and shoulders. Very risqué!
His stomach rumbles, "Oooh, food too? Excellent, we are in. What are they serving today?"
He eyes the innkeeper with pursed lips, "Good sir, I believe you might be holding a bit of crucial information back from us. What would Iomedae think about that? I mean, omission of information is still a lie."
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The Tengu is looking forward to help again to earn money. That's so nice. So he puts on his adventurer's clothes to look serious. He hopes he hasn't grown up during the stay on this island because the clothes too small aren't very smart to find out a job.
Once they found the innkeeper, the bird would have smiled if he could have had the racial possibility. The gnome was sure that he didn't say something he should share with them. Already a trouble.
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The druid readies himself for the departure once the vacations are ended. Preparing the luggage isn't the task he prefers. In fact he was still thinking about any objects that he could have forgotten, except this nice... Well that's another story.
coming back to the reality he asks:
And what kind of danger should we expect?
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Mutaq enters the inn with a spring in his step, covertly drawing his sword an inch or so out of its cane to make sure the release mechanism still works after so long without use. The vacation was a welcome respite, but he's glad to be back in the thick of things.
Mutaq doesn't notice anything suspicious about Jakivi but trusts Trig's instincts. "We would be more than happy to attend to this matter, if you can offer a satisfactory answer to my companion's challenge. I am also curious what sort of terrain we are likely to encounter along the way."
Pressed for information he lowers his voice, leans over the counter, and shares the local gossip. "Rumor is that undead soldiers ambushed a similar caravan less than a week ago. Don't know if they're true, but the guards that went with that one never came back. You lot, though, you seem more capable, so if the gossip is true, shouldn't be anything to worry about. Wouldn't hurt to throw some praise towards Iomedae, though," to which he reveals a coin in the likeness of the goddess and gives it a kiss.
Mutaq knows that dense fog often blankets the roads in southern Ustalav, making it hard to see who else may be lurking nearby. Both skeletons and zombies are known to wander the border roads, patrolling on behalf of the Whispering Tyrant and attacking any travelers they come across.
Jakivi confirms the regular bouts of fog, but confides that the road is otherwise free of difficult terrain, when not sabotaged by roadside bandits and whatnot. When your conversation is finished, he directs you to the stable on the edge of town where the caravan is getting ready to take off and wishes you safe travels.
It’s hard for you to miss the eclectic group of travelers gathered at the stables. Two half-orcs joke with one another as they load supplies into two wagons, each with a pair of jet-black horses. The half-orcs are nearly identical down to the striped pattern on their shirts, though one has her long black hair gathered into a ponytail and the other keeps his cropped short. The sister greets you after noticing you heading in their direction. "Oy! Look wha we gots! A merry band o' robbers!" which elicits a laugh from her brother. "Looks like Jakivi came through after all. You must be tha guards? Great! When the undead come after us, make sure my brother an me get out safe with our horses! HAHAHAHAAHA!"
The rest of the caravan, very noticeably, doesn't laugh.
"Nyme's Andri, and this me bro Arek. You can call us the Graghol twins. Nobody else does," she says with a wide, tusky grin.
"Not even our closest friends," Arek jibes.
"We'll be your drivers for this happy little journey. Our job's ta keep an eye on the road, and yours is to keep an eye off it. See these beauties, here?" to which she gestures to the team of well-muscled, jet-black draft horses. "Raised them ourselves. Gorum and Kurgess here are twins," she says while gesturing to the lead stallion in front of each wagon. "If you ever wondered what it's like to see two gods fight, leave them untethered in a field and place your bets!"
"The ladies aren't much friendlier," chuckles Arek as he gestures to the other two horses. "But they do love their carrots. You can toss your things in the back of my wagon. It's gonna be cozy on this trek."
In addition to the drivers, horses and goods, the caravan has three passengers: a middle-aged male half-orc wearing spectacles and comfortable business casual attire, a stocky male dwarf wearing agrarian clothing with multiple patches and well-tended seams, and a tall Varisian human woman dressed in a colorful patchwork skirt, its pattern seeming to have no beginning or end.
Andri clucks her tongue and winks at Trig, and the passengers immediately warm up to the social gnome and introduce themselves in turn as they climb into the coaches.
Xanthus Shurgun, the half-orc, is a professor at the University of Lepidstadt. The embroidered patch on his sportcoat is indicative of his status as a faculty member. "I am traveling to Caliphas by way of the countryside for my thesis on the agricultural conditions along the border of the Gravelands. It is my hope to prepare lectures on best farming practices until the Whispering Tyrant can once again be laid to rest."
Eigil Jorgund, the dwarf, is a farmer heading into Caliphas to establish relations with marketplace vendors. He raises an eyebrow at what Xanthus has to say, but otherwise remains stoic and quiet. "I've lost a lot of business due to these perilous roads. But don't let my rags fool ye," he grumbles, somewhat eyeing the outfit of the professor. "Practicality trumps luxury in my business. Willing to pay top coin to find safe routes these days."
Kisaya Sitari, the human, is a seamstress traveling to Caliphas in search of new fabrics and colors to improve her selection of adornments. "Don't ask me to read your fortune. Why does everyone ask me that when I'm on the road?"
The half-orc twins chuckle a bit at her comment.
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Well the cleric was quicker than him to make impression on the people it seems. He waits to see if it works properly before to intervene. Maybe Trig may have his success story with these people who knows?
And that is the case. So trig will be confident for the whole travel and will wind up all the undead for sure.
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Mutaq is thrilled to meet another orc-blooded intellectual, so he's more than happy to leave the bulk of the the positive-impression-making to Trig while he talks to Xanthus. After hastily introducing himself Mutaq begins questioning the professor on the specifics of his thesis, enthusiastic about every detail.
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Trig gives a wink back to Andri. Her taste in clothing is plenty interesting enough to give her the time of day. He settles in very close to her and begins a nice conversation about style.
Hearing Quetzhal ask his question to the twins he just shrugs, "Why be scared of them anyway? Just a simple channel energy and they all fall apart. It's easy. You just invoke the name and symbol of your god or goddess and blammo, they fall down."
The druid listens quietly to the explanations and the fears of the people. Both half-orcs are not scared at all. Why is it so as the others seem to fear the travel? So he asks them simply.
You don't seem to fear the undead which seem to wait along the road. Is there a reason why?
"Fear 'em?" the twins glance at each other. "Sure we do! But fear doesn't mesh well with livin' your best life," and almost as if to confirm their statement, one of the lead stallions whinnies.
During the first day, the dwarf takes a particular interest in Quetzhal's straight-forward approach to conversation.
"You seem to be one with the earth. My clan's been toiling the soil for seventeen generations! Our secret is hard work, wisdom, experience, and listening to the land. And watching our neighbors. What's your approach, where you come from?"
Mutaq is thrilled to meet another orc-blooded intellectual, so he's more than happy to leave the bulk of the the positive-impression-making to Trig while he talks to Xanthus. After hastily introducing himself Mutaq begins questioning the professor on the specifics of his thesis, enthusiastic about every detail.
The professor practically beams at Mutaq's interest. "I like a curious mind! If only half my students were as attentive! My research specializes in the "mortal sciences": biology, medicine, chemistry. The Gravelands presents an opportune environment for studying, mapping and classifying the nonmagical side effects of long-term exposure to necromantic energies. Much like how a magical fireball leaves behind mundane flames."
During your conversation, professor Shurgun inquires about your own intellectual journey. "And where did you attend university?"
Kisaya seeks out Trig's company during a stretch of the first day's journey. "I.. Simply.. LOVE your outfits! Do you stitch them yourself? Gnomes are so expressionate! Do you recycle your fabrics? Or is each garment a new creation? Oh.. we simply.. MUST talk about PATTERNS!"
The twins take a particular interest in Chupko's flamboyant personality. "I wouldn't undervalue your Cleric friend, over there. We might not wear our fear on our sleeves, but if we could have a priest on every trek, we'd happily pay for one."
"What's your plan to keep our merry little convoy safe? Should we establish watches at night?"
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Kisaya seeks out Trig's company during a stretch of the first day's journey. "I.. Simply.. LOVE your outfits! Do you stitch them yourself? Gnomes are so expressionate! Do you recycle your fabrics? Or is each garment a new creation? Oh.. we simply.. MUST talk about PATTERNS!"
"Oh god yes, finally someone who understands these things!"
He begins talking shop, "Yes, most of the stitching is done myself. I've gotten pretty good at it. Can't do anything else with the craft, but I at least get to make what I want to wear. Some things get recycled of course, that's just the nature of the game. But my favorites, well I have a whole closet back home for those. And each garment is inspired by my last advanture, so it works out great! Tis one of the reasons I put up with this crew. We work together well, they don't mind my eccentricities and we get to do all sorts of crazy things. Some uh... not as fun as others, but still, it's something new every time!"
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The professor practically beams at Mutaq's interest. "I like a curious mind! If only half my students were as attentive! My research specializes in the "mortal sciences": biology, medicine, chemistry. The Gravelands presents an opportune environment for studying, mapping and classifying the nonmagical side effects of long-term exposure to necromantic energies. Much like how a magical fireball leaves behind mundane flames."
During your conversation, professor Shurgun inquires about your own intellectual journey. "And where did you attend university?"
"Fascinating! I imagine such research would be invaluable in restoring the Gravelands to habitability if they are reconquered, in the meantime it seems quite a worthwhile area of study in its own right. I hope you're able to conduct your investigations without too much trouble from the undead."
When Shurgun asks about Mutaq's university years he gives the professor a slightly pained smile. "I studied at the University of Korvosa, though my time there was cut somewhat shorter than I might have liked. A net positive experience nonetheless. If I ever decide to finish my formal education I may well try your own university, by all accounts I've heard it would suit me quite well."
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The Tengu is a bit surprised. He was sure to have simply thought not said...
Don't misunderstand me. We are very happy to travel with the gnome. He saved us already. But I'm only joking a bit because he's looking great here. And if we encounter some undead, they should be quiet or he will kill them definitely.
Further:
Watch at night is of course to be set. But you must also have an open eye during the day. You don't know what or when something may occurs. Even not what the thing coming wants. The last time we escorted a wagon the creature we encountered didn't want to kill us but to eat the particular fish we were supposed to bring to our employer at the other end of the road. So you see...
The end of the first day passes largely uneventfully; the travelers are happy to converse with you and the time passes quick.
• Professor Shurgun offers to write a letter of recommendation for Mutaq, should he wish to transfer his remaining credits to Lepidstadt.
• Kisaya shares tips on where to purchase the best quality fabrics in Caliphas.
• Eigil appreciates another "down-to-earth" naturalist.
• And the twins discuss tactics with Chupko.
As the sun starts to set and the drivers make camp for the night, however, Eigil and professor Shurgun get into a bit of an argument as the evening meal begins cooking. It begins good-naturedly, a discussion over which is more important: the knowledge of how to cultivate crops, or the physical skill of planting and harvesting. Each seems to be dismissing the importance of the other's point, and things begin to heat up. As the argument escalates, Andri expresses in a hushed tone that if their voices get any louder, the sound could attract unwanted attention...
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The good defense, you see, is to strike before the foe and to kill him... Because once he's dead he can't strike himself you understand? That's a good tactic anyway. Nobody can kill you if you use this tactic.
The Tengu tries to convince the brothers that that's the one to adopt anyway.
Deception or Diplomacy:
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Trig looks quizically at the Tengu, "Uh, yeah. That's great tactics in a fight and stuff. I think that maybe though, perhaps we should discuss what is important for the land. See, there has to be a balance between knowledge and action. No knowledge and only action could lead you to plant a field in a flood zone and all your crops would be ruined when the rains came. But also, no action and all the knowledge means that even though you know where to plant, you never get around to it so nothing grows. See, it has to be a balance between the two, not one or the other."
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Mutaq thanks Professor Shurgun profusely and promises to take him up on his offer if he ever decides to apply. Later, as the argument escalates, he tries to convince the professor to moderate his position.
"I fully agree that agricultural knowledge is essential to farming, and in particular is likely to be the source of future improvements in food production, but you must concede that physical expertise is required to put it into practice. Perhaps someday magic or artifice will make agricultural labor unnecessary, but for now it remains an essential part of the process."
As he continues to make his argument Mutaq leaps to his feet and tries to demonstrate the difficulty of some common farming tasks.
Mutaq succeeds at explaining the merits of theory and knowledge, while Trig describes the merits of practice and physical work, and the two travelers begin to see more eye-to-eye. This resolution leaves all of the travelers in a more cooperative mood, but perhaps most importantly, the conversation doesn't seem to draw any unwanted attention. During the night's watch...
The next morning is drizzly and damp, and starts off a bit more nerve-wracking. You and the caravan passengers occasionally hear sounds in the woods, such as snapping twigs, wind through the leaves, and the faint groaning of trees — or perhaps creatures. The seamstress, Kisaya, seems especially on edge, and at one point startles everyone, “Be quiet and listen! Don't you hear that? There’s someone... sobbing out there.”
Later on, after a brief midday rest and a few more hours of travel, an alarmed whinny comes from the pair of lead horses and the caravan comes to a dead stop. The horses are frozen in fear, and when you move up to investigate, it appears that a bridge over a small ravine ahead has been completely washed out. Arek shouts from his seat for his sister, and he and Andri are barely able to keep the horses from spooking and sprinting off.
"Well. This here's quite the sour pickle. I wonder when it washed out? We've been o'er this bridge time and time again." But despite the twins' calm observation, the passengers grow nervous. Several of them begin questioning at once, “Maybe we can find a safer way around?” and “Can’t you fix it?” and “Hurry!” and “Does anyone have any rope!”