Hey all, I am going to have to bow out at this point. I'm starting my own business and this has left me little time to enjoy gaming. Best wishes going forward, may you reclaim the Stolen Lands and strike your names in stone as Kings!
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"You keep the ring, good scholar. We can't have you drowning or falling from a tree, think of the Elven ruins you'd miss with such an untimely demise!" Mahdrig says, barely able to suppress a giggle, her eyes reflecting her off-center sense of humor. She regards the remains of the barbarian. "Yes, let this warrior return to Nature. His soul has been given to the gods, yes, yes. But let us not turn over every pile of rocks we find, unless they are crowned by berries. This warrior must have had a blessed life, to give us berries so sweet!" She whistles a low and sweet tune as she gathers as many berries as she can into various pouches and containers, pauses and mutters a low prayer at the barbarian's corpse.
"Hmmm, interesting observations, gentlemen," Mahdrig says as she also dismounts and studies the area, plucking some berries and placing them in a pocket.
"Do you think Svetly would like some berries to craft a jam, or better yet a wine?" The druid turns to Markov, nodding at his and Nedyr's observations.
I'll be in Scotland for a wedding/vacation starting tomorrow (7/12 EST) until the 25th/26 of July. I should be able to check in, but if you need to bot me, Mahdrig's stats and base spell choices are in her profile. Plus a longspear she picked up along the way. Cheers!
"Nedyr makes a good point. Dear Markov, how far is the temple from here? I'd prefer shelter overnight, what with those capricious fey flitting about. A bit of hustle might provide the best shelter, and the forest's blessing."
Riding atop her coal-black horse, Char, Mahdrig squints her eyes into the brush, searching.
"It's quiet," she says to her companions. "...too quiet."
Also... Can we get a spreadsheet or something going? This loot management is kinda hurting my head. @_@ @Markov & Kenderkin- we are just leaving Oleg's again. If you can provide me with a solid list of loot and coin, I'll make a googledoc to share. I don't know exactly what's out there for gear, treasure, etc. And to all, sorry I've been spotty lately, I started a new job and am working on a new project so my time's been splintered. I'm still in it to win it, though! (By win I mean have fun, roleplay and yes kill the BBEGs whilst raising a kingdom from nothing!)
Mahdrig slips the potion of lesser restoration into her pack, assuming she'll need to administer it at some point. "If we are to explore the wildlands, Orrick, this is a good plan. Securing landmarks will strengthen our reputation. Just be sure you are noble about it, not savage," Mahdrig casts a sideways glance at Markov, "Not everything in these woods is prey, my friends." Mahdrig takes the ribbon from Svetlana and adds small pine cones, river rocks, and bits of shiny river glass. She sprinkles the makeshift offerings with some dried herbs, and chants a quiet prayer over them before carefully placing them in her pack. Mahdrig is quiet but agreeable, following along as they depart Oleg's.
Heeding Markov and Johod's warning, Mahdrig brings Char to a quiet cater, and brings fire to her fingertips in anticipation of danger. "Cockatrice, if we are lucky. We are best to leave this foul pest its territory and move on. Calcification is a terrible way to go."
"Well the dagger itself might prove useful in combat, if we keep it. What other supplies do you think we should gather, Markov?"
Mahdrig pats Nedyr on the shoulder. "Rest and poultices can heal wounds as well as a magic potion, my dear. I do know a thing or two to keep you alive." Mahdrig rummages through the barrels in the store. "Besides healing potions, we'll need to guard against the unknown. Antitoxins, restorative potions, and even an invisibility or fly potables- these can really help us in the wilds." Mahdrig busies herself with her spell component pouch. "We can't kill everything we face, savvy? So let's be better prepared for surviving overall, not just the teeth of a wolf or the sword of a brigand. Oleg, if the boys are taking requests, a vial of lesser restoration and a second, haste. Please ask the others first though, maybe a few healing potions are best."
Mahdrig lets out a shrill, short laugh, almost a bark. "Haha Hahahaha! So if you weren't raised in the shadow of pitched roofs with offal pooling in the streets you're a crazy hermit, then?! Perhaps some of us prefer to live as civilized beings, in harmony with nature, not bound to chaotic, corrupt urbanity." Mahdrig seems amused and not at all offended, and lowers her voice. "Yes, Bokken is owl-pellet-crazy. He's a solid brewer, though. I know him... casually. We can trust him."
Mahdrig leans in as the boys discuss tactics, her ear bent to their conversation, she nods but holds her head in contemplation. "Yes, let's clear what is closest to Oleg and Ol' Deadeye. We will be blessed by both if we can secure these wilds.". The druid turns her smile to Jhod. We will be honored to have your company in our next foray, Jhod. Surely your skills will compliment our exploration of the Stolen Lands."
Mahdrig presses a gold coin into the stable boy's hand. "My Dear Nicholas, please take special care of Char. She is such a sweetie, she loves carrots and a full brush. Do keep the lanterns away from her at night, though. Fire inspires her, lad. I'd prefer to keep her quiet at night," Mahdrig says in a very serious tone. The druid reads the wanted poster, shrugging. She then heads into the kitchen. "Svelty, My Dear! how I've missed just the aroma of your food, let alone the plates themselves!" Mahdrig moves about the kitchen helping Svetlana prepare the proffered meal.
Mahdrig spends the downtime in her own space, listening to her teammates' assessment of the caves and of Jhod's role. "Well, if Deadeye's cleric wants the space, he's welcome to it. I missed his missive but I trust you lot. I hope Jhod will keep this grove sacred, and give us quarter. If Erastil's Eyes are our ally, we are truly blessed." night passes... "I've slept on the grass, and my opinion is we should return to Oleg's and then lead Jhod to this temple. Erastil's blessing carries as far as his bow here. We need sanctuaries if we intend to secure ourselves here. The Wilds are unpredictable, and Ol' Deadeye is a fine ally."
Mahdrig squints into the cave entrance, holding her hand above her eyes to shield them from the light. "I'm with you, Nedyr. Let's check out this temple and the surrounding area. Orrik's got a good sense of these fey, much as I do. They are as likely watching us as we are watching them, but this spot might serve us well as an outpost. Looks defensible enough, so long as Twiggie isn't working for a nasty treant. I doubt it though, since he just came and went without much provocation. She turns and briefly touches Markov's shoulder. "Markov, my dear, do not let the fey perplex you so. They can be very... inviting if given the opportunity," Mahdrig says as she moves towards the cave entrance. "Of course, some would also kill you in your boots just for laughs, so maybe your temerity isn't so misplaced," the druid finishes, barely suppressing a smile.
Mahdrig sighs again, but cannot keep a smile from her face. "Dear Nedyr, I'm glad the voices in your head are so frivolous. Now ask the knife if it knows where we can find a henway." Mahdrig waves her hand at the dagger and arcane runes swirl from her hand towards it. The druid turns to Orrik. "Very observant, friend. If I am to believe my own ears and eyes, it spoke to us all. Perhaps it did scramble your brains?"
Mahdrig sighs loudly. "Yes, boys. Only Crazy Miss Mahdrig sees weird things. Anyways, I think the dagger is safe. Unless it whispers to you, Nedyr. If it does, do be a good boy and tell me what it says. Twiggie said the curse was brought by an Erastil priest desperate to stem the Taldan invasion, and sacrificed the bear with it and dark magic."
Madrig turns to her fellow explorers, her head cocked sideways, as if she can't believe they didn't hear the twiggie-thing. "Why are all eyes on me? Yeh did see the twig-man thereabouts, didn't yeh? This best not be a prank, you lot. I saw him CLEAR AS DAYLIGHT ON A MOTTLED LOG. Limber fellow, about yea high." Mahdrig guesses the twig's size with an outstretched palm. The druid grows exasperated as her fellows' visages show no recollection. "Gozreh's Guts, maybe I am looney after all. The twig-man, he spoke. You must believe me. This is a temple to Erastil, at least I think it is. Or was. There was conflict with Taldor, and the bear we saw was sacrificed with dark magic, and this place was cursed. That knife, that symbol are part-and-parcel of the curse." Mahdrig takes note of their surroundings. "That's what the twig-man said. There was conflict, and the bear we saw was sacrificed by someone, and the ritual put a curse on this grove. Maybe the cardinals and chickadees will sing here soon."
Mahdrig narrows her eyes as the stick-figure blends back into the forest. Under her breath she mutters, "Taldor... Forty summers..."
Mahdrig narrows her eyes and draws fire from her faith, expelling the flames from her fingertips.
To the bear, Mahdrig shouts, "I wish we were on speaking terms! You are sick, we coulda helped!" Mahdrig calls in a favor to Feronia, firing bolts of fire from her hand at the bear (assuming 30' range, and it's a ranged touch attack.)
"Markov, I admire your... tenacity,"Mahdrig says, barely suppressing her giggles. She reaches out and gently touches the cavalier's wounds, her other hand upon her holy symbol.
Mahdrig rolls her eyes as Nedyr "stealths" through the bramble, beckoning the swordsman to her side. "Twixt you and Markov, it's a miracle we've not been ravaged!" Mahdrig's stern expression quickly melts away. She points to the pool and broken steps. "We should wait for the others before we venture forth. Be ready, should Perlavish's ursine tale prove true. Though I wonder ... these barriers speak to defense and seem hewed by man, rather than by nature."
Mahdrig rides her horse Char into the thicket unafraid, longspear cradled in her left arm. "Be ready, friends, I may come crashing back down with our spirit-bear," Mahdrig calls back, almost too confidant as she slips effortlessly into the tangled briars.
As Mahdrig rides Char before the swearing of Markov's axe, a certain quiet speaks to her, one she often shakes away from her thoughts. "Child, meet me in the grove... you know it is your time... Mahdrig shudders and focuses on the trees in the forest.
"Well, if the bear went in there unhindered, surely there must be a path, unless the bear is not-a-bear, perhaps a magician, a shapechanger, or something else?" Mahdrig paces back and forth for a few minutes, then smacks her forehead with an open palm. "Nedyr is right, it would be foolish for us to attempt a physical assault on the bramble. Let's set a trap, or an ambush, out here, where we see the tracks. We need not try and kill whatever makes these tracks- we can observe and subdue it. Trying to burn our way through is too... too... civilized."
glad you are back, Orrik!
Mahdgrig stands and dusts herself off. "We are blessed to have a scholar among us. Orrik, you are a gem! Do tell, do the tatzlwyrms breathe fire, or cause fear as their namesakes? I know of only one great wyrm, he slumbers beneath Andoran and keeps the dwarven legacy his own." Mahdrig does a few jumping-jacks, as she seems to mutter to herself. "Enough of that whispering, eh? Let's find us the bear-cave. Maybe she can tell us what ails the Stolen Lands." She looks back at Orrik, Nedyr, and Markov, running her hand through her natty hair. "The Bronze Wardens, then?" Mahdrig's lilt seems to perk up the ferns surrounding the campsite. "We have an appointment with an angry bear."
Mahdrig wipes tears of laughter from her eyes. "A good point, fey friends, but we have yet to claim anything to name the land- I think Markov meant a name for our little band here." The druid sits cross-legged on the ground, her chin in her hands. "Markov is right- we are getting ahead of ourselves. We want to be known for bringing order to chaos." Mahdrig begins drawing circles in the air with her index finger. "It is equally important to appear aloof, untouchable, unreachable. This keeps our enemies unaware, our plans clouded to the outside world- and that makes us the stuff of legends. We are the fire set to cleanse the Stolen Lands, are we not? This effort needs fuel, and we are just a few of those twigs." Mahdrig taps her finger against her temple and chews her lip, her heterochromatic eyes deep in thought. "To combine Markov's words and Nedyr's panache, we are 'Wardens' of some sort then, yes?"
Mahdrig taps her index finger against her forehead, her eyed deep in thought. "Yes, something to impress the ladies, a name worth swooning for. We'll need their menfolk, after all. Good thinking Nedyr! A moniker that is imposing but inspiring, mysterious yet familiar. How about "The Stolen Lords?" I can pretend to be a Lord if need be, I do have some tricks up my sleeve..." Mahdrig trails off, mumbling something, and the word 'mother' seems to be said with an acerbic bite to it.
Mahdrig roughly sketches what appears to be an earthworm with tiny hands and pointy teeth. She holds the bark at arm's length, and squints her eyes. "Markov is right, this is not a dragon at all. I like 'dragon-goon,' Perlavish, seems right fitting. Like a dragon but not. And sounds like a bully, we can't have such a terror upsetting the natural order, tsk tsk tsk that won't do." Mahdrig brings the bark sketch closer, examining the teeth. "I remember a poster about something called a "Tassle Worm?" I think Oleg wants the head of one? Perlavish's description is more wormy than dragon-ny, perhaps this is what Oleg seeks?"
Mahdrig claps her hands and brushes her hair behind her ears before crouching and finding a stub of chalk from her belt pouch and a suitable chunk of tree bark to act as a canvas. "Dragoons, you say? How fantastic! Finally, a new neighbor! What do they look like? You say 'dragoon' and I'm thinking something reptilian- dragon-like in appearance but not too dragon-ny. Perhaps smaller? Maybe it's a crab, it lives in the river, a crab dragoon? Pincers? Walk funny sideways? Sorry Perlavish, I can really take off when I'm inspired... You were saying..." Mahdrig smiles up at Perlavish, chalk poised above bark, waiting for a description so she can sketch the 'dragoon'.
Assuming the wee dragon would use tricks, Mahdrig tries to resist its hippie gas cloud. ;) "Oh Perlavish, you are quite the merry prankster! I wish I'd met you when I was young. We good biggens are making sure the woods are safe for such lovelies like yourself- who is the least fun around here? My friends and I would like to meet them."
Mahdrig laughs and claps her hands. "Oh what a treat! And how will you make us feel better AND funnier? Oh I do love these woods!"
"Dear Perlavish, what else do you know about the bear? Is she hurt, or just disagreeable?" As for the camp location -
Mahdrig listens closely to Perlavish, nodding as she mentions the southern camp. "These biggens, the not nice and really dumb ones, how far is their camp? Do they mistreat the forest or her children? This will not do, not at all." Mahdrig nods to Orrik. "And Orrik's question of the temple might be tied to these interlopers. Perhaps you know some details? We might be best off searching the temple first. What can you say about the bear? Is he a bear, or something more tricksy?"
Mahdrig claps and laughs heartily. "Oh, the wonders of the woods never cease to amaze! I did like the fire trick you played on me, and the tangled grass- oh what fun! You did ruffle us there! Those particular tricks were the bestest!" Mahdrig thinks deeply for a moment. "I'd say it's a tie, though, wee dragon. You both are very good at tricksing us big folk! Now, what say you about this place we are in? Where are the shinies, where are the evils?"
"Master Orrik, you are a gentleman and a scholar. Such a feat is rare in these lands!" Mahdrig smiles as the wee dragon descends. "And you are, my dear?" Mahdrig straightens her frame as she addresses the tiny dragon.
Mahdrig is about to stop Nedyr, fearing the worst, but holds her tongue to see what the thief finds in his pack, trying desperately to hold back a snicker.
Hey all, I am out of town this week end and have spotty wifi, I'll check in when I can. Go ahead and bot me if needed, ranged attacks and spells.
As the fires' glow slowly fades, Mahdrig asks Orrik, "Orrik, I see you are skilled as I am in calling magic to do your bidding. If I may ask, do you find it within yourself, the power, that is- or do you call upon a god or some other source of inspiration? Or do you invoke your talent through the written word?" Mahdrig casts a small stone into the fire. "I never asked for it, the power. I found it, and now I try and control it. And I see it all around me, everything shimmers as if looking through a great blaze."
Mahdrig busies herself with building a fire and preparing some roots and herbs in a pot of water, humming as she does so. "Good morning, gentlemen! Best eat and get going, someone is watching us."
"Ohh, Markov. Sleep well. You've earned it." Mahdrig crouches low and approaches the tree where Markov has curled up asleep, his nose twitching like a hound dreaming of bunny-chases. "OK, you've won. We are passing through your groves, and if you mean us no ill-tide, we wish to leave in peace come sunrise. But, do tell, fellow Fells-dweller, who be ye? I am Mahdrig of the White Birches, my home is a few days travel, and you'll find plenty of honey pots and copper coins in my cottage. And dried flowers, of course. If you happen upon any spiders, they are quite friendly."
Mahdrig is blinded by the rockets' red flare. "Bah! You'd think feeding the beasties would at least make them sleepy!"
"Makes perfect sense, Orrik. I wonder which of our hidden friends has been playing tricks,"Mahdrig sighs, frustrated.
From here on out I'd be happy to help as a second book-keeper- I'm running Skull & Shackles for my home game and tracking resources for 2 PCs so a bit busy however- If it works for GM and you, you post the loots and I'll track down the details, including resale value and who takes what from the spoils. You post the spoils list here, and I'll post distribution and keep a running total of what's in the bag (things we haven't sold or used.) This way we can all see what's available and discuss how to best use our gear. If you can compile - since I assume you have a list of stuff from before - I can take that and go with it. Does that sound good? Teamwork! Let me know your thoughts!
Mahdrig sets about gathering dry leaves, grass and kindling and some sturdier sticks and limbs to pile on the fire. "Fire is in my blood, gentlemen, allow me." Mahdrig builds a nice little wooden cabin to set ablaze and taps the steel against the flint. Mahdrig herself is surprised when what should have been a tiny spark to ignite the kindling turns out to be a bright burst of light!
After catching her breath, Mahdrig calls out in a very welcoming, honeyed tone to nothing in particular- "There is something going on here! Listen to the dwarf- your games are cute, you got us! But we do so need a fire for supper, and if you behave yourself, you can sup with us tonight, if you like." Mahdrig winks at Orrik. "A bump in the road, or a bump in the night, I'm not sure. I was not expecting shenanigans this close to civilization!"
After watching Markov and Nedyr slide ungracefully to the ground, Mahdrig grins. "Well, this looks like a good place to bed down. Since you fine gentlemen have already dismounted, perhaps you could assist a lady from her mount? I'll ask Char if she's feeling friendly first."
"Easy, girl, I'd rather not tumble down to the ground," Mahdrig whispers to her horse, Char. "These boys are our friends, you'll see. Easy, girl." Once unmounted, Mahdrig also finds her saddle unstrapped. Hmm. Odd we didn't tumble off our horses until just now. I wonder how that could be..."
"Your honesty is an asset, Markov. We shall strike down the Summoner should it show its cowardly snout, and take a trophy to further bolster the alliance you have struck with the kobolds. What name does the tribe take?" Suppressing a giggle, Mahdrig adds, "And you can be sure I shan't be mining any gold by myself! The thought alone is excruciating! But it is a fine asset to have, once we complete our Charter obligations. I am sure Master Orrik can enlighten us in this endeavor." Mahdrig looks over the map Markov references. "So are we headed to the eastern edge of the forest, or the grasslands farther east? Makes sense to secure the Trading Post first. I welcome the journey!"
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