And this Thread Also I have found... Ha...ha...ha...ha...ha!
It started as nothing more than a bad cough, not unusual at this time in the late spring when snow still covers the upper reaches of the Five Kings Mountains to the north. The first to catch it was an older sawmill worker. She hated to take a day off and not get paid, but the cough (along with a high fever and bone-rattling chills) kept her in bed, with her grandchildren taking care of her while her husband was at work. The next day she started coughing up blood. Two days later she was dead, and one of the grandchildren had begun to cough as well.
The disease then spread to a few neighborning households, and now several dozen people have contracted what is being referred to as blackscour, named after the dark hue it gives the coughed-up blood and what it does to the insides of the sick person's lungs. A few have successfully thrown off the disease with sufficient bedrest or thanks to the healing touch of the local priestess of Iomedae (a woman named Lady Cirthana Gensar), but the less optimistic in Falcon's Hollow worry that it could easily spread to the rest of the town's 1,400 inhabitants and turn into a true epidemic.
All trade in and out of the town has been halted in order to curb the illness' spread beyond the River Foam valley, and the local town council has sent out pleas for help from the larger town of Olfden to the south, but so far they have not been answered.
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On this chilly spring morning, the three of you find yourself standing in a long line in front of a small cottage that houses "Roots and Remedies", the shop of a local herbalist named Laurel. Her teas and poultices have helped plenty of folks fight lesser illnesses in the past, but so far even she has been unable to find the right combination of ingredients to successfully fight blackscour. The people of Falcon's Hollow, however, are desperate, and a line of nearly 20 people patiently wait to be admitted to her shop this morning. Most of them have cloth coverings over their mouths and noses, hoping that they will not become the illness' next victim.
Gustav taps his foot and looks around impatiently. He sees a couple of familiar faces... though he doesn't know them well enough to call them friends. He nods his head in greeting anyway striving to remember what name he gave them.
Maybe this Laurel will be interested in hiring me to find some of these rare herbs for her teas. Get me out of this place for a while".
"Oh Gustav," Ezren the Younger says as he joins the line to Laurel's cottage. "You're too young for achy joints like me, and I won't ask what brings you here. That's none of my business. I don't mind asking about things that are my business, mind you. Like this sickness. That's everyone's business. You want one of these candles? Supposedly keeps the contagion at bay."
He has his mouth and nose covered with a scarf. He carries a lit candle in his left hand and his cane in his right.
Angus approaches the line with a wary eye. Seeing Ezren's scarf, he considers it a reasonable precaution, taking a moment to fetch a spare shirt from his pouch to do likewise with. Once the shirt is secured over his lower face, he continues his approach.
"Feeling ok, Old Younger?" he asks Ezren "I was getting things prepared for the foray into the woods, but my father needs medicine first." he offers by way of explaining his presence at the shop.
"Oh that's fine, that's fine, about the woods," Ezren nods. He chuckles. "Old Younger, eh?" He snorts and the lines around his eyes deepen. "Fortunately, I'm just feeling my age in my knees and hips. Hoping for a poultice. You taking care of your father is a good sign I can trust you, so don't worry about any delay. What brought me out here happened decades ago, what is a day or two compared to that?"
"Wouldn't want you going into the woods all stiff." Angus smiles, eyes twinkling, "Some eager woodsman is likely to mistake you for a gnarled tree and try their axe on you." He clears his throat, adding with much more humility "Thank you, sir. My father should appreciate you having patience while I do what I can for him."
"No need to fret about the time. With the town closed to trade, I can't really go anywhere. Plus who knows when my shipment will arrive. Oh, you know, relationships in general are complicated but especially fathers and sons. I hope your father feels better soon," Ezren says. "Do you want one of these candles? It's been said they keep the contagion away. Blessed by a priest of Iomedae, but I don't detect anything magic about it. Probably just a way for temples to get more money. Still...you never know." The old man shrugs.
He leans in closer and lowers his voice, "Any word from Olfden about help? Maybe some local druid to help?"
"Oh Gustav," Ezren the Younger says as he joins the line to Laurel's cottage. "You're too young for achy joints like me, and I won't ask what brings you here. That's none of my business. I don't mind asking about things that are my business, mind you. Like this sickness. That's everyone's business. You want one of these candles? Supposedly keeps the contagion at bay."
He has his mouth and nose covered with a scarf. He carries a lit candle in his left hand and his cane in his right.
"Humph! I'll have you know that I've got over 135 years in my hindsight. Not my fault that you humans have poorly designed aging issues. I'm just here to see if I can make a little dough helping find more ingredients... among other things. Don't need no stinking candles for warding off disease or for seeing".
"Ah, we were not forged in the depths of the world like you dwarves, 'tis true." Angus says "And I'll donate to a church that I see doing good among the community with the money instead of filling their halls with gilded chalices and needless statues, or just curing those with coin to spend for that matter."
Lowering his own voice he adds "Nothing that I've heard. Druids are likely busy dancing with faeries or feeding the werewolves or whatever it is they do. Olfden probably doesn't know anything. Not like the Boss to advertise trouble." his lips curl in disgust at the mention of the town's boss.
The line to see Laurel in "Roots and Remedies" is quite long, and the proprietess seems to be taking her time with each of the customers. You are not sure whether this is a good thing or not, but when you get to the front of the line nearly an hour later, Laurel sticks her head out of the door to see who is left. She is a rail-thin woman in her late 40s or early 50s wearing severe-looking spectacles and with her hair pulled back into a bun.
Laurel recognizes Angus and gives him a strained smile, and waves for him to approach.
"Hello Angus, here about your father I assume? Why don't you come in and bring your two friends along with you. I need some help and you all look like you might be just what I am looking for." She holds the door open for all of you.
Inside the cramped, mud-tracked shop, the smell of burnt earth and spicy incense chokes the air. Bunches of dried herbs hang from the ceiling, along with dangling pots, presses, alchemical apparatuses, and glassware of more arcane purposes. Pouches of rare plants, jars of colored glass, and all manner of dried, preserved, and jellied animal parts fill high shelves and tables doing double duty as displays and workspaces.
Laurel moves over and positions herself behind a worktable packed with herbes, stray powders and measuring equipment and a briskly boiling pot bubbling over with grey froth.
"As some of you may be aware, I have been working on an herbel remedy for blackscour, but so far my attempts have not borne fruit. I can ease the symptoms of the disease, but I can't cure it."
She turns and takes a hefty book from off of a shelf, opening it to a bookmarked page.
"This is my grandmother's research. She spent her entire life delving into the medicinal properties of local plants, and she taught me everything she knew. I hadn't looked at this book in ages, but this morning I realized that she had developed a strong anti-fungal brew, and that perhaps this might be able to help defeat blackscour. To me it sounds a bit like hoojoo, but I am frankly out of options. The only problem is that it contains some rare roots and concentrations, most of which I have here, but there are three I don't."
"The first is elderwood moss, which I've never heard of, but granny said grew on the oldest tree in the forest. The second is a specially pickled root called rat's tail, and the third is ironbloom mushrooms, stunty little things that only grow in dark places thick with metal, a favorite among dwarves, so I hear."
"I have some clue as to where I can get more info and perhaps the locations of these three ingredients, but unfortunately don't have the time or skills to go bounding about in the forest at the moment. That's why I thought you would be perfect for this, Angus, since you know the forest better than anyone around here. Your dwarven friend here might come in useful for tracking down the ironbloom mushrooms, and of course a wizard is knowledgeable in many things, correct?"
Common Knowledge "Total of 7
Exploding
"Hmmm. My mammy used to make Boar stew with Ironbloom Mushrooms. Knew they taste... well...Okay, but didn't know they were good for you".
He then looks at Angus and Ezren with a shrug. "I had planned on asking if I could help find ingredients anyway. Guess it might be useful to have more eyes looking".
"Laurel, if you think it may actually cure this thing, consider me in." He looks to Ezren "What do you say, Old Younger? We could look for your shards while we search for the herbs. If nothing else, it would eliminate looking in those same places later."
Laurel sighs. "Well, as I said, I am not certain that my grandmother's concoction will provide the cure, but I have run out of other options; nothing else seems to be helping."
She brightens a bit then. "I am very happy that you are willing to help me on this. I think I'd even be able to pay you a bit of gold so that you don't have to worry about paying the bills while you are gone. If you come back with everything I need to brew the medicine and I'll cut you in on thirty each, how does that sound?"
"As for the location of these three ingredients, here's all I know. I wish I knew more, but perhaps Angus can use this information to lead you in the right direction."
"The elderwood moss is most likely to grow on the oldest tree in the vale. Damned if I know where it is, though."
"The rat's tail and mushrooms are even longer shots. Way north, toward the mountains, people say there used to be a dwarven stronghold that's been abandoned for centuries. Even though the dwarves aren't there anymore, I bet their forges are. If you can find ironbloom anywhere around here, that's your best shot."
"As for the rat's tail, who knows? Well, actually, Ulizmilla, the witch that lives deep in the woods might. She's a crafty, mean thing that knows all sorts of strangeness. She might even have some, but I doubt it'd come cheap. My grandmother traded her sight to the old crone for a few pages of what she knew and that was years and years back. I don't know a soul who got any nicer as they got older, do you?"
Common Knowledge (4)Success
Occult (Unskilled -2) (3) Fail
Occult (Unskilled -2) (4) Success
"I seem to recall something about an old Dwarven Monastery about 15 miles north of the river fork, but not sure exactly where it is".
He then rubs his beard trying to recall details of his rough treasure map without actually pulling it out.
"And I saw an old map that had a big red X marked on it about 20 miles north of here. That would be a possible location for the crazy witches house".
"I'm not sure exactly where any of this is... but I'm pretty good at finding things".
Common Knowledge explode 7, Success
Common Knowledge 3, Failure
"Excellent, and I have a pretty good idea where we'll find that tree as well, about fifteen miles from the labor camp, close to the lake. Old woods there, old enough to make people superstitious about faeries and such." Angus smiles. They might just have a shot, of the dwarf's hunch about the witch was right.
Laurel's face brightens significantly listening to Angus and Gustav. "That's very good to hear. Sounds like you already know where it might be best to look and how to get there!"
While still in line, responding to Gustav, Ezren chuckles. "Thank Torag then for your lack of age related frailties. I can say, as I've grown weaker, I've gained insight into what it's like to be a child again, reliant on others for help."
Ezren the Younger listens patiently, writing down Laurel's requested ingredients and where they may be found. He's fairly confident that he may know where the locations are based on his prior research of the area, in preparation for his journey.
4 Success
Angus will spend a little time asking around the cutyard to see if anyone can narrow down the location of the eldest tree. If he's heard of it, maybe there's someone there that has actually laid eyes on it.
Angus asks around in the Lumber Consortium cutyard about the fabled eldest tree in Darkmoon Vale and finds there are several different stories about it. Some tell of a powerful dryad who lives in the tree while others claim that it is under the protection of a cabal of druids. What no one can agree upon is where exactly it is located. Angus definitely gets the impression that if he can find it and map its exact location, there might be some money in it for him from the Consortium.
As he is about to leave, Angus talks to one of the foremen who's been with the Consortium for decades. Unlike much up the company's upper echelon, the foreman is a decent guy who is just trying to make a living and get by. He tells Angus that Darkmoon Vale is a dangerous place, and that if he is going to travel though it, he should no waste time wandering about looking for something for which he doesn't have the exact location. The foreman suggests that he vists the Lumber Consortium logging camp at the edge of the Darkmoon Vale, as the woodsmen who work there know the forest better than anyone else.
Angus relays the advice to the others and offer his opinion on the matter. "It's not bad advice, plus we might be able to save some provisions if we camp at the logging camp for the evening."
"A good idea Angus," Ezren the Younger says. "To the camp first to tap the woodsmen for their knowledge, and if not provisions, perhaps a soft bed. A week's supply of food is about the most I can carry. I don't know who I would rather deal with a dryad or a cabal of druids. We'll see if either rumor is true. Both could be wrong."
Gustav picks up an extra (5) days of trail rations and eats a giant meal before leaving... then just to be on the safe side he buys a gallon of ale.
"I say we hit the closest place first, then work our way north".
"That makes sense, Gustav," Ezren says. He stamps the end of his walking stick on the ground twice. "Let us go then."
As Angus leads you into the valley with the Lumber Consortium camp, you can see that it cuts an ugly scar of stumps into a dense stand of proud darkwood trees. Five sturdy-looking log buildings, seemingly a bunkhouse, meal hall, office, barn, and smithy, stand with numerous wide carts and sleds amid the sawdust-covered clearning.
As it is still the middle of the afternoon, you hear the sound of chopping wood coming from the direction of the forest. No one seems to be in the camp, although you see a small plume of smoke rising from the building that looks like the office.
"I wonder if the sickness has reached the lumber camp," Ezren says. "I thought some accountants, cooks, or smiths would be about here." He points to the plume of smoke "Let's go there and inquire about Milon Rhoddam."
He wipes the sweat from his face with his sleeve. He looks back the way they came, past the stumps. "I hope they plant some darkwood seedlings here."
He is silent for a moment then taps his walking stick twice on the ground. He releases a soft groan then says, "I'm looking forward to sitting down more than eating."
Angus frowns "The bosses believe there's always more forest, and look at seed planting as the birds' work, or worse druidic nonsense I'm afraid." He sighs "A bit of planning for the future was never a bad idea in my estimation, but they see things differently."
He follows Ezren towards the smoke.
As you approach to within 30 yards of the building with smoke rising from it, the door bangs open and two men dressed as woodsmen step out carrying loaded heavy crossbows, both of which are pointed at you.
"You're on private property!", the fair-haired one bellows. "State your business or be off with ye! I've got two dozen men in those woods with axes just waiting for my signal, so don't think you can try any shenanigans with us!"
Angus lets out a snorting laugh "I expect those men would rather see your blood spilled than ours. Out there working while you sit around in the office." He smirks "Surely it need not come to that, though. We're on a quest for Laurel, trying to find ingredients for a brew she can help folks with the blackscour. We're looking for Rhoddam. I'm Angus, Benjin Lockheart's son."
He extends a hand "And these are Masters Ezren the Younger and Gustav"
The men lower their crossbows and visibly relax as Angus steps forward. The one who had spoken continues: "Yeah, little Lockheart's youngest, I remember you. Back from playing soldier, are you?" He chuckles to himself as if he had said something funny.
"Rhoddam is in the forest supervising the cutting. Just walk in and follow the sounds of the axes. Can't miss them."
Gustav bristles as the danger presents itself, torn between drawing weapons, or finding a good place to hide. As he recalls bolts hurt... a lot...
He visibly relaxes as the danger passes, glad that Angus seems to be on the good side of these men.
"Humph! Okay then".
Ezren The Younger pats Angus on the shoulder. "Well I'm glad you're with us and known to these men," he says.
He smiles at the Consortium men and raises his walking stick in greetings. "Thank you for your assistance! Follow the sound of axes." The man adjusts his backpack and takes a deep breath. "I hope it's not too far."
After a few minutes of wakling in the forest, following a path lined with hundreds of tree stumps, you begin to hear the rythmic beating of axes in the distance. The rest of the forest seems unnaturally quiet, with only the occasional bird song interrupting the sounds of metal biting into wood.
Less than fifteen minutes after leaving the base camp you reach the woodsmen, half of which are warming themselves on this chilly day around a small camp fire, while the others are gathered around two large darkwood trees that they are trying to fell. They look up and stop their work as you approach, curious of who you are and what news three strangers might be bringing.
Suddenly one of the men by the fire stands up, a wide grin on his face, and begins to approach Angus, his hand stretched out in greetings.
"Well, if it isn't little Gussy Lockheart as I live and breath. How long has it been, two years, three, since you left the Vale? How are you lad and how's your dad? I haven't seen him in a month or two."
, the oldest tree in the forest , and the dwarf ruin. Of the three, the elder tree seems to be the closest, located on the far side of Droskmere, the largest of the lakes found within the wood. He warns you that there are plenty of dangers in Darkmoon Vale, and to stay on the paths at all times. Feel free to add any detail you like about the woodsmen here, their general demeanor, and how they might feel about you. Unless you say otherwise, I will assume that you have all only spoken to Milon and none of the others.[/ooc]
"Well thanks to you. It might indeed be a dangerous journey... but nonetheless a vital one. Could you perhaps sketch out a brief map on where these places might lay"?
Ezren waits for Angus to reminisce with the man before introducing himself to the lumberjacks. He slowly sits down near the camp fire with a groan. "Thank you kindly. My name is Ezren. I know in my youth I dismissed the talk of my elders, but I'll tell you what they told me: Enjoy your youth! Soon enough your muscles will weaken and your sure aim will become unsteady from arthritis." Rubbing his hands near the flames he chuckles.
He listens to Milon Rhoddam and takes notes in his book, then annotates the map as well. "Sorry to hear about your nephew. I'll do my best to stay on the path, but sometimes you get pulled off it. Sometimes the trail just dwindles into nothing."
The wizard takes a drink from his waterskin. "How's the lake's water? Is it potable? And your best estimate, considering my age and walking speed, about how long it will take go to all three places."
"I'm well, sir. Dad has taken ill, though that's only part of why I'm looking to help out Laurel." he shakes Rhoddam's hand, nodding and smiling at a couple of others he recognizes in the camp. [b]"How've things been around here? Can't be easy being short folk due to this blackscour."
He pauses, giving the man to answer and for Ezren and Gustav to say their pieces.
The wizard takes a drink from his waterskin. "How's the lake's water? Is it potable? And your best estimate, considering my age and walking speed, about how long it will take go to all three places."
Rhoddam rubs his chin and thinks for a moment before replying.
"Well, if you don't get lost, it should take you 5 to 6 days to travel to the Elder Tree. From there it's about three days to the Witch and a further three days to the dwarven ruin; if you don't get lost or something decides to have you for lunch on the way. I haven't been to the lake in a few years, and neither has anyone else that I know. It's fed by a spring, though, and is quite clear and deep. The water is sweet, especially on a hot day."
"How've things been around here? Can't be easy being short folk due to this blackscour."
Rhoddam sighs and looks around at the other lumberjacks before responding.
"Aye, it has been hard. A few of the old-timers weren't able to join us due to the 'Scour. Either they caught it themselves or they are home taking care of someone who has it. Because of that, there are a lot of greenhorns in this group, and we're having to watch everything they do. After all, I don't want to escape this plague only to be felled by a darkwood mistakenly dropped on my head!"
He chuckles at his own joke, and it is a type of humor Angus' recognizes from his father and his father's friends: a dark humor brought on by years of hard and dangerous work.
Rhoddam and some of the other woodsmen who know Angus invite all of you to stay with them in camp for the night and head out the next morning.
"At least you you won't be eaten by a wyrm or werewolf tonight!" Milon remarks with a wide grin.
"Thanks for that, and you can put me to work until sunset anyway, I know every resource is precious and I'll pay for what we'll take of that tonight with sweat, like the old days." Angus offers, rolling up his sleeves.
"How unpredictable is the weather in the vale?" Ezren asks. "I've been delayed by thunderstorms, thick fog, and even a tornado once." The old man chuckles at a memory.
"Well thank you for the invitation. It sounds like it will be our last bit of civilization for at least three weeks as we search for these things to fight the 'Scour."
Rhoddam responds to Ezren.
"The weather in the Vale tends to be cold and wet most of the year with only a short summer that's warmer and dryer. You'll get a fair number of storms in the late summer, but most of the year, the forest tends to make the weather milder. The winters aren't quite as cold and the summers not as hot."