1. The angel said it was instructed to never go near these mountains
2. The angel referred to "one who sleeps" and said it was told the sleeper was a problem but "one that would solve itself, if left alone."
3. Based on the fact that we've even been hired to investigate this place, it seems safe to assume "it" was not "left alone" and may very well be abroad within the mines or even the mountains. We ought to see if there's any gossip around town when we arrive.
4. Based on what my little informant said it could be a lot of things, but something makes me suspect we may be dealing with an evil outsider of some kind.
Byron listened quietly as Joanna spoke, fingering the satchel of platinum he'd been handed. He had been on his way to pass along the information from the Cassisian, but something about her bearing made him refrain. No point now. He thought. If I tell her I think there's a devil wandering those hills she'll just feel guilty for not coming with us. No need to inflict that on her.
"We'll see you again, of course. I'd make the same choice in your position. Believe it or not, I know something about family loyalty." He said. "And I'm sure you'll do good work for the guild here. Take care, and uh. Here." He reached into his robes and withdrew a small bell, an old holy relic he had been trying to tease power out of without much success. "Seems a fitting farewell gift for our resident holy warrior." He tossed it calmly through the air, its polished brass blazing through the early morning sun.
Maggs does not look much at Joanna as she departs, but waves a hand dismissively when asked for permission and good tidings, feigning disinterest.
She would miss the paladin, in her own way, but not the dog.
"We should really head into town, see what we can find. Maybe get a wand if we're lucky."
"Be safe, Joanna, wherever your travels may take you," Hyacinth says. The ghoran gives the paladin a few goodberries as a parting gift.
Once they are out of sight of the ship, though, she moves with more of a bounce to her step. Secretly, she is grateful that such a paragon of virtue is no longer part of their group. More of a chance to engage in mischief now...
Joanna smiled brightly as you give her your blessings, and happily accepts Byron's gift. "Thank you, everyone. And hopefully what I have is just a feeling, and I won't have any grand adventure to share with you, Drask," She said before turning to Helena. "I'm going to go get Halli ready for shore."
At Helena's nod, Joanna took off. "Thank you, for letting me keep her," Helena said softly. Her loud, boisterous voice came back moments later, however. "But you all need to be careful out there. And don't stay in Pol too long. There's been word that the Gouged Eye Tribe has been causing trouble in the town. Sending bulettes off of the mountain to attack the outskirts of town to soften them up. That letter isn't worth anything if you all aren't around to use it, you hear?"
Byron returned to his cabin after the goodbyes were over, gathered up his things, and prepared to disembark, contemplating what to do next, taking particular care to disperse his magic circle--no need for anyone to go spreading rumors.
Back on deck he scanned the shore and offered up his suggestions. "I think Maggs is about right. May as well head into town, see what we can learn about the situation a little closer to the mines. See if anyone has any leads on the orcs--weren't we told they generally weren't overly hostile? Something's got them excited if they're loosing land sharks on the populace. Maybe scrounge up some extra supplies while we're at it. Gotta be a tavern or something we can fish for rumors in at the least."
"I'm going to take some of our reward and go shopping, without our paladin, we'll need some extra healing power and I hope to find a wand. Perhaps also some snacks and climbing supplies. If someone wanted to join me, it would be appreciated, I am," she sucks air in between her teeth, "bad at people."
"I'm in." Byron said without hesitation. "I'm feeling eager to put some distance between this river and I for a bit."
Byron sucked his lip, squinted, and rolled his eyes upward--his thinking face--trying to wrack his brains for any ideas about a good place to start hunting supplies, or gathering information. He had passed through Pol once upon a time on guild business, but it had been a while, and the bloodbrush did have a way with his long-term recall at times.
"I will go as well. I have a certain way with people," Hyacinth says breezily.
Byron claims to know a place and, while he doesn't quite remember the name, starts leading you to the eastern part of town with the claim that everyone will know it when they see it.
The declining quality of buildings continue as you get farther from the docks, and not too long after you began your trek you can see the plains that denotes the edge of the city. There are fewer people out this way, but almost all seem to be working.
At the edge of the city is a horrible amalgamation of tents and wooden shacks, one of which had a great deal of smoke coming from it. The tent was stripped red and yellow for most of it, blue with green polka-dots for some of it, and just a patch near the entrance was hot pink.
A sign painted yellow with blue words announced it loudly as, "Welcome to Gar's Sundries, Blacksmith, and Horse Stall! Come on in!" Literally. As Byron walked to the sign, a high pitched and disembodied voice read the sign to you.
Rising from behind several piles of rope on top of what you assume is a counter is a full blooded Orc man dressed in orange and looking like he just stepped in from a circus. He gives you a big, toothy grin and speaks in a voice not dissimilar to the one from the sign outside. "Welcome! Welcome to Gar's! I am Gar! How can I assist with you today!"
Byron cracked a rare smile and gestured wildly at the absolute assault on the senses arrayed before them. "See? Told you you'd know it when you saw it. Come on, I'm sure we'll find something in there."
As Byron pushes his way into the main tent, his smile takes on something of a strained quality. Blurry memories begin to snap into focus: coming here with Roland--but not Kat--his first hit of blood brush. This was where he'd gotten that tip about the guild, too. His mood shifts and he begins to slip subtly towards melancholy, when the orc appears.
"Gar!" He shouts, trying to force some spring back into his step. "I don't. . .remember you being an orc! But that's alright. Perfect actually. My companions here and I are in town on business. Also! Maybe some information about the goings on in the region. Specifically to do with mountains, mines, and a certain tribe of orcs active in the area?"
Drask always liked the little hole-in-the-wall places. With a good head on your shoulders and a hard glance to dissuade any dishonorable dealings, it ended up being better than most of the bigger places.
However he jumped about four inches clear off the ground when the sign spoke to him. He frowned and spit in its general direction. "F*+!in' magic..."
He frowns as he ducks into the building, moving slowly and carefully to avoid toppling the carefully made displays and low hanging baubles. He frowns harder at Byron's words. How do you forget somebody is an orc? He pokes around somewhat aimlessly, keeping his silence and letting the others do the talking.
Gar nods along as he listens to Byron speak, his grin naturally plastered to his face. "I am glad you at least remember that Gar is here, even if you don't remember that I am an Orc. I do not remember you at all, so let's call us even!"
As Drask and others move around Gar's, you find the layout to be rather strange. Around the outskirts of the tent you find barrels of "finely crafted swords" were next to barrels of "Okayly crafted swords" which was next to a crate with a single, beat up sword inside of it labeled "You could buy this, it's on clearance." As you delve deeper into Gar's, you find trays labeled "Rings, Earrings, Necklaces, and Nails," clothing racks that held both fancy clothes as well as leather and chain armor, with one particularly strained rack holding up a suit of plate mail, and bins filled with every adventuring tool under the sun but with no discernible organizational method.
"But, information!" He exclaims loudly. "Based on your magical items and manner of dress, may I ask, Adventurers?" Gar threw his arms up as if trying to put a flourish on the the word. "Adventurers are always welcome at Gar's. Top in the hierarchy, in fact. Adventurers come first, then the nobles unless I want to be driven out of town for a third time, then everyone else!"
"Mountains, Mines, and the Gouged Eye Tribe. Yes. I know much about each of these three subjects. This information can be accessed, of course, by simply buying something from my shop. Big purchases, small purchases, it matters not to me. What can I offer you today, and what kind of information can I happily dispense for you?"
Byron nodded slowly. This was all starting to feel more familiar. "Yeah. Yeah, alright. Tell you what, Gar. I've got a bit of a mental shopping list. Let me dig through any potions you've got--I'm sure we can strike a deal. I'm looking for things to keep people safe. Protection from evil, warding, or pass without trace would be good starts."
After a few minutes of rummaging, Byron was able to find a handful of dusty bottles that Gar assured him were absolutely potions of Sanctuary. "I'll take four. These go for 50 gold each, so that's 200 gold. I'll pay in platinum if you don't mind. That seems worth a question or two, hm? Why don't you tell me what you know about these Gouged Eye orcs. What are they like, how've they been acting lately, how do they handle it when strangers go wandering in the mountains. That sort of thing. Oh also, I've heard they've been sending Bullettes out to harass the town. That true? How do you suppose a tribe of orcs comes across such creatures?"
As Byron is looking through the potion... filing cabinet, he finds several potion bottles labeled "Mystery - 150 gold. Any attempts to identify them via Detect Magic fail, however.
"Hmm, that counts as more than two questions, but the customer is paying in platinum, so who am I to complain?" Gar says, though in his voice it really sounds more like an announcement. He counts out the 20 platinum and puts it behind his counter. "The Gouged Eye Tribe. Yes, yes. Not very good customers when it comes to potions, wands, etcetera etcetera. If they come by, it's usually to see Sir Sampson the Blacksmith, our resident blacksmith." Gar gestured towards the side of the tent that had a large sign over the doorway that said Blacksmith before continuing.
"When they last came, everything seemed well. They had put in an order with Sir Sampson the Blacksmith, a rather large and, I daresay, expensive axe. Enchanted, too. That was about a month and a half ago. Grashda is a good kid. Things will be better once he takes over from the current chieftain, Frazen. Or so I hope! Who can really tell the future, eh?" Gar laughed heartily. He has an odd way of laughing, almost sounding like "Garharhar!"
"Next question was strangers in the mountain, yes? Right. If you are a group of heavily armed individuals, then you can expect a skirmish. Maybe deadly, maybe not. Depends on who finds you and if you are worth your armore. They are a very proud, martial peple who put a lot of focus on that. Quick to be offended,too, so be sure not to imply that you are stronger than they are. The Taldon military only recently got this into their head. Things have been peaceful. Mostly. Until... the bulettes!"
Suddenly, with a flourish and a few words from Gar, a bulette appears in the tent. 15 feet tall and covered in thick, armor-like hide, it roared silently and showed off at least 5 rows of crooked daggeresque teeth. ""Do not be frightened, it is just a Silent Image, no harm can come of it," Gar explained, waving his hands and making the creature dance from side to side. Definitely an unnatural sight.
"The most powerful of the warriors of the Gouged Eye Tribe, the same one as the axe was made for, tames bulettes to use as an ignoble steed. They listen, for a while, but once they get too large and ornery, she has to fight them off. I have not witnessed this, but I heard that some escape. Whether or not she lets them go, who knows. But it hasn't been a problem before the past week or so, when bulettes have raided the north side of town. Going after horses, mostly, though there have been some casualties. Have Ianswered your questions in a satisfactory way?"
Suddenly, the grin left Gar's face as he looked back towards Drask and Maggart. "Kraka, no! What did I tell you about paying customers?"
As you look around, there doesn't seem to be anything near you asides from piles of gear.
Hyacinth cocks her head at the curious squirrel hiding in the rafters. She moves to follow it, intrigued by its demeanor.
Maggart pokes around, searching for a curative wand, but when the shopkeep's illusion starts dancing, it startles her and she accidentally knocks something large and expensive over. Returning it to its place takes up the rest of her attention.
Wrestling with the heavy thing, she grunts and asks "Who, or what, is Kraka? Do you've a dog or a kid or something?"
The item returned to its place, she sighs and wipes the sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her tunic.
From the tent above, the squirrel lands on the moose's head before you and stands on its hind legs to bow as well. It opens its mouth and, surprisingly, speaks Sylvan. "Madam Spud greets the honored Daughter of Ghorus," it says. Though it's voice is somewhat deep, it is with a feminine tone. "I could not help myself, as I hear Gar loudly speak of the troubles of the town, and what do I find but a Green Descendant in our humble establishment. If it does not displease you too much, I'd like to ask what brings you so far from home?"
-----------
As Maggart fumbles around, she finds a small barrel labeled neat sticks that could be wands someday and gets her hopes up that perhaps that day had passed. Alas, those days were not behind them. It really was just a barrel of sort of neat sticks that might make good wands someday.
Drask speaks up as Maggart voices her question. "Krakatoe the Mighty. A devious and grand dragon as cunning as it is handsome. That's what Kraka is!" The voice was eeriely similar to Drask's, though not quite the same. Almost as if someone had heard a few words once and decided to copy his voice.
Drask had been quietly lurking and for the second time jumps. However this time he had some kind of tangible warning so he wasn't quite so annoyed. He looks over to Magda and nods his head, deciding to play along.
Byron had been mulling over the possibility of significant violence before they even got to the mines, but the things Gar tells him now make him second guess this, and a cautious sense of relief begins to creep into the back of his mind. He decides to pay careful attention: this orc is a salesman, and salesmen are not always to be taken at their word, but he considers beginning to prepare for a different sort of approach.
He rummages through the wares again, looking for a wand that mFrustrated after a few moments, he speaks up. "Gar, if you've got any decent wands, I have some more platinum and a few more questions." I'm thinking blend with surroundings. Or maybe cure light wounds.
1. How exactly do you know these orcs? I don't mean to imply anything nefarious--are you one of them? Or do you just have a lot of dealings with them?
2. What can you tell us about the mines outside of town? Has anyone gone there recently--do the orcs ever go there, to your knowledge?
3. And finally, other than Orcs and Bullettes, can you tell us about any threats we might face if we were to head towards the mountains?
Hyacinth is momentarily caught off guard by the way the squirrel addresses her. But she focuses on the memories that dance at the edge of her mind, those of the previous lives of the ghoran who's body she now inhabits, and she realizes what it means.
Hyacinth bows to the squirrel and the moose. "Greetings, Madam Spud, and well met," she says in Sylvan. "My companions and I are members of an adventuring guild in a distant city. We have come investigating rumors of a mine that has gone silent. We fear for the safety of the people who worked there. Perhaps you have heard of it? The Crimson Coin Mine? Might you know anything of what has been happening around these parts of late?"
"Sorry, one moment," Gar looked over Byron's shoulder and cast a spell at Drask. A few moments later the unseen prankster was revealed. As the Invisibility spell wore off, a Faerie Dragon could be seen perching on Drask's shoulder. The dragon continued to snicker, it's green and pink cheeks puffed out as though attempting to be quiet, before it noticed that it could be seen.
"Noooo! No fun!" It whined, placing its tiny front claws on top of Drask's head to get a better look at Gar. "These ones haven't paid anything at all yet!"
"No pouting, Kraka. Feel free to toss him, mr. customer. He is rude and has not helped in the shop in quite some time."
Returning his attention to Byron, Gar returned to his tooth grin. "Wands, yes, of course. Blend is a bit hard to find," Gar paused for a moment to illicit a reaction before continuing. "But I may have one lying around. Cure spells are also a hot commodity, but likely the most common of wands."
Reaching underneath the counter and rummaging about, Gar retrieved 4 wands. One really did blend in with the counter, but the tag said Blend, 14 charges. The other wands were labeled as Cure Light Wounds wands with 21, 37, and 42 charges left.
"And more questions. I don't know much of them, I'm not exactly the type they tend to want to get to know. Sir Sampson the Blacksmith, however, spent a lot of time challenging them back when he was Sir Sampson the Challenger. His title changed quite often back in those days. Why, they don't even use the front door anymore, they head straight into the smithy."
"There are mines in the mountain, of course. I don't know much about them, honestly. I've heard that some scouts had been sent up recently, but that may have been a week or so ago. Dangers of the mountain? Asides from what you spoke of already, Harpes might be a problem depending on how far up the peak you go. Drakes, too, but any mining town worth their metal would have defenses against such creatures."
Spud jumped off of the head of her moose and onto the gate. "The mountain is stale. The wind that blows from its peaks bring the scent of rocks, trees, and metal, but it is devoid of birds, boars, and other creatures that call it home. I've noted that the birds have started their migrations, which is not right. Not at this time of year. Before the shop opens, I like to roam around town. I've heard tell of scouts sent that way. Not soldiers, but by the nobility. They blame the orcs, that's what I hear. They blame the orcs that there's no scouts returning. But it's something else. The mountain is shifting, Daughter of Ghorus. I do not think it is for the better."
Drask quite liked the little prankster. As long as it was in good fun, and was more funny than alarming. He starts fishing in his pack. "What do you like to eat, little dragon? I keep good jerky."
Byron nods, satisfied by what he's hearing and seeing. He picks up the blend wand, and the most well-used of the three cure wands, and deposits 525 gold on the counter. "Hey Mags! Found us some cure wands. I'm buying one with 27 charges, since I've got healing magic of my own. Take your pick of the other two. I'm getting us Blend too." After the exchange, he smiles at Gar and thanks him in Orcish.
Maggart nods at Byron, grabs the fullest wand and pays the man 630 coin. "You meet that thing around here?" she inquires indelicately, pointing at the faerie dragon. "What's it's motivation for sticking around? Food, companionship? It dangerous?"
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"Honey!" Kraka answered immediately. "Anything sweet. Or anything fish. Jerky is a maybe. This regal one will give it a try." Despite calling himself regal, the dragon is acting anything but. His legs dance atop Drask's shoulder like an overexcited dog waiting impatiently for a treat.
His eyes narrow at Maggart's words and his wings shoot out, missing Drask's head by a hair, to look bigger than he was. "Not that thing! The great, mighty, handsome, and hard-working Krakatoe!"
"Not that hard-working lately," Gar said, though not before a wink and a nod to Byron for his consideration. "I found him back in our adventuring days and he's just sort of stuck around since."
"This tent pleases me. That is all."
"Oh yes, and he's a delight."
"Mhmm...sweets...can't say I carry too much of them around...ah!" Drask pulls out a bar of chocolate with a few chunks missing from it. "Sweets don't tend to stay for long on the road, but chocolate does." He breaks off a sizeable chunk and offer it to the little dragon with an amused grin.
Let's see if she eats that bowl of tripe.
Maggart glares at the dragon without saying anything and leaves the tent, wand in hand.
When the others join her, they find her picking something out of her teeth; she asks "Should we visit the orcs or try and stay out of their way on our way to the mines?"
Emerging into the street, Byron is able to answer Maggs' question with an uncharacteristic swiftness.
"I don't want anything to do with the orcs, if it can be helped. Whether or not they're of a more decent sort, as far as orcs go, it doesn't sound like we'll get out of the encounter without at least a little bloodshed, and if my little informant is right, we might be fighting something pretty horrific in those mines. No need to wear ourselves out ahead of time. We might keep them in mind, though: if things get too grim we could retreat and appeal to them for support of some kind as a last-ditch effort."
Drask steps out and stretches his arms, glad he wasn't in danger of collapsing the piles around him anymore. He did miss that little dragon creature though.
"We should secure horses. And then get a hot meal and some good sleep, will be the last of either we will see for a little while."
"I can perhaps commune with the wilds to find us," she pauses, choosing the right words, "willing beasts. But I will need to prepare the right spells in the morning."
"Sounds like we have a plan then." Byron said, with surprising enthusiasm. "Let's find a place to stay in town, and tomorrow we'll see about mounts. Maggs I for one am all for saving what's left of our money, so let's see what you can find us tomorrow. Worst case scenario, it doesn't work out and then we just go find the stables."
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For those of you staying in an inn, you find good lodging and food, both dinner and breakfast, for 2 gold pieces. Maggart, you stay in a ditch covered in petrol, on fire for free and eat either your rations or whatever you can find. The more investigative of the party ask around about the going ons in town, but you don't get any information that Gar hasn't been able to supply you with. In fact, some of the patrons turn into doomsayers the moment the Gouged Eye is mentioned, and it's easy to tell that the conspiracies they speak are not based on truth or reality.
The next morning, your group meets back up whether at the breakfast table or a ditch that was somehow worse off than it was last night. With one last gear check, your team heads to the north gate. Despite being called the "north gate," it really turns out to be an archway large enough for a few wagons to pass through side by side. Not even a fence, let alone a gate. The stables next to the entrance are also abandoned, or so you assume by the lack of noise and activity. Understandable, as this would likely be one of the first places hit in an attack.
Under the arch, off on the side of the road, is a young human boy of perhaps 10 years. His oversized coat was dusty and worn with several patches throughout, but the rest of his outfit was like new. His shoes in particular were of good, solid leather. Strange for a still growing child.
Upon your departure, the child runs up to block your path. "My name is Krel," he says quickly. "My brother went up the mountain with a delivery and hasn't come back. If you're going there, take me with you. I'll pay!"
"No." Byron snaps, not breaking his stride or even looking at the child. He could tell there was no point reasoning with the boy about the dangers they faced--he had that childish air of determined arrogance about him, and warning him of all the things that might have already eaten his brother would only make his fears more acute.
Still, he knew a thing or two about filial devotion and so, grudgingly, not wanting to give any indication that he was willing to lead the boy into danger, he tossed his head over his shoulder and said "You want us to look for your brother, we will if we have the chance. What's his name? And be quick, we have business to attend to."
Maggart and her hand pick thru the refuse of the city, finding plenty enough to fill their bellies in the night and morning, earning a new and unkind smell for their trouble. She sleeps pressed firmly against the dirt, rising with the sun, red hair alight in the morning glow.
She paces, muttering to herself as she collects twigs and leaves and bits of bone and insect, long reeds and weeds and ferns, wrapping them around each other, squishing unripe berries into her hair and against her clothes.
The woman's stench, eliminated days prior and slowly building since, has fully returned, and to make matters worse, she begins applying- perfume? No, wait. Very not perfume. A thick, heady smell, bitter and acrid, with a rising heat and an unpleasant subtle sweetness that sits in one's sinuses and makes their eyes water.
With the party reunited at the gate, she steps past the boy and his shoes to begin calling steeds, whistling and shrieking into the woods and fields beyond, calling forth two horses and, by earlier request, a buffalo.
She begins with the bison and then each horse, allowing her fellows to deal with the child, a situation which she tries to entirely ignore.
Drask appraises the boy, one who is well dressed but pretending not to be, before giving a response.
At first Krel looked like he was going to start yelling at Byron's attitude, his face getting red and puffy, but the questions seemed to calm him. "Ren. My brother's name is Ren. He was hired to deliver a pickaxe up the mountain, but it should've been a quick job. He hasnt come home yet and it's been 10 days." Krel shook his head. "But I don't want to get left behind again, I still have the money He left me for when he's gone. It's yours if you take me with you to find him."
Maggart, you almost immediately see the animals galloping towards you. Including a buffalo, which is strange as they don't generally graze near towns. Unlikely, but perhaps a sign of good things to come.
Drask slows, then turns, and comes to a knee next to the kid. He ruffles the kid's hair. "Byron's a bit of a dick, but he's got the right of it. We wouldn't be able to keep you safe. And how do you think your brother would feel if you got hurt runnin' after him?" He takes his hand off the hair and gives Krel a serious look. "Ren. Alright. What does Ren look like? What was his cargo, and who was it going to?" Drask pulls out a surprisingly neat looking map. "Even better if you know where it was going and could point it out on here."
"He looks like me but taller and less handsome," Krel blurted out, though afterwards he looked like he regretted his impulsive words. "He... he's wearing a coat like this one, but without the patches. This is his old one. He usually has an oversized backpack with a big bedroll hanging off of it. But we do look alike."
Krel's eyes widened at the sudden arrival of horses and a buffalo, but manages to take his eyes off of them after Drask pulls his map out. After looking it over, he points in the mountain. Exactly where the Crimson Coin Mine was situated. "I think it was here. It was for the foreman, I think. I think that's what he said before leaving..."
"Mhmm, that's a big help that is." Drask makes a show of making an ugly little scribble of an arrow pointing at that spot so he won't forget. "Luckily we're heading right that way. Taller and uglier you, should stick right out. We find him, we'll bring him back."
Back still turned to the child, the grimy woman murmurs to herself, "Don't be surprised if we bring back his bones in that coat," brushing each beast with a black cloth as she does.
"We ready to ride out? For a day's travel, these beasts will stand by, fight and die along us if needed. Through both magic and understanding, they respect me as their better and we have reached an accord."
Her hand twitches, clicks and chatters, agitated and antsy.
"Hey kid." Byron turns, regretting his snappishness just a bit. "We'll do our best. And we'll check in with you when we're done, whether we find him or not. But" He kneels by Drask now and fixes the child with his surprisingly intense, red-brown eyes "You have to stay here. Say you're brother is just fine, and he comes back having been delayed. What's he gonna do if you're not here? If it were me, I'd go out looking again. This is how real search parties work: someone stays put, someone else goes out. Understand?"
He turns to Mags when he's done, not waiting to see if his words had any effect--the kid would stay, or follow, or do some other reckless fool kid thing regardless of how long he spent staring seriously at him.
Krel looks like he's going to argue more, but instead hangs his head and nods at Byron's words. "I guess that makes sense..." he admitted, kicking the dirt. "But I'll be waiting here at the gate every day, got it? So you better bring him back safe and sound!"