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Here
Pharice sees all.
As Euda’s innate magic restores the tree branches (at least those not completely severed), the old man’s anger fades slightly, ”A Plantspeaker! We have not enjoyed the company of a Plantspeaker for many, many moons. Your presence within our forest is most welcome.” The old druid, still gripping the end of the staff, turns his attention back to John and Robert. ”Panic is correct. I could sense the unease you brought to this land from far away, and I have travelled through the trees to find what manner of trouble you have brought us, to disturb the delicate balance of nature.” ”Please, honoured elder,” Bonita says. ”Can you help us to locate this missing child? He is innocent of any harm towards your lands. We wish only to save him.” ”Innocent, hawk sister. Hardly so. Ignorant perhaps, but not innocent. Balance is lost, but how far the swing to restore it. A tree falls in the forest, and it’s trunk lands on a rock. The rock supports its middle and both ends float, but over time, the leafs either and fall and now the trunk leans. Place your weight against the tree to level it again, but push too hard, and now the tree rocks wildly on its perch. Would you restore the balance, of a life for a life, or do you squander the balance of the land to save what is precious to you alone?” The druid finished with a challenging look to Robert.
”Good monsters. We don’t want any trouble, just want to ask your master for some help, that’s all. Man, I really hope this guy isn’t one of those Lamashtu whackos. My father told me about a time he dealt with some of them. He was trying to figure out how this outlander wool merchant managed to sell so much stock from such a small caravan. Turns out the guy was one of those Lamashtu cultists. He had thought he could breed an army of tame trolls by cross-breeding them with domesticated farm animals like sheep. Turns out, if you tie a troll up long enough, it will mate with anything. Didn’t work of course, the poor ewes just had ordinary lambs, or so the guy thought at first. Then he discovered that when the sheep got their wool cut, it immediately grew back, so he gave up Lamashtu worship and became a wool merchant, and made a fortune off of one sheep. Guy called the thing a ‘baramu’.”
Elipho throws one arm over Kieran and another over Marcus: the smell of BO is overwhelming. ”That feels better. Hey, even if we don’t find the dogs, this boar meat alone will make the excursion worthwhile. If we can get them field dressed and back to town in time, Clemis will pay 40 gp for each of these beauties. Any of you townies know how to prep a fresh kill?”
GM, can we have a gameplay thread to dot and delete in, so that this game shows up in campaign tab? In the beginning Rock will smash things with his enormous hammer, and he has three main tricks up his sleeves: enlarge person to give himself reach if he can hide behind someone tanky, mage armour for when he’d have to wade into things, and obscuring mist for when they all need to beat a retreat. Ideally, he’d prefer to use max one per combat encounter. He can place the enlarge person on punchy dwarf sometimes also. His familiar is a flier, and so hopefully will be soon able to drop some alchemical goodies from above. Screaming Arrow is a mascot familiar, which means eventually everybody will be able to communicate with him, share spells, or deliver touch attack spells through him.
Rock is ready to roll.
Happy to be aboard (literally). Rock will happily get into melee with friend Baern while listening to Kriznox’s inspiring tales, and enjoying the magical support of the wise and gentle Caroline. Talan will be very useful on this trip: ships should always come with spare anchors.
Oh I get it. It’s not like people come with Ranger 2 tattooed to their forehead. Plus, he’s a ranger 2 with a standard NPC stat array, so b chances are any one of you could easily take him.
Edmund, seeing River coming, ensures that her kiss is successful, then ends his invisibility spell so she can see his smile. ”My dear, I must agree with Crow. Though it is possible he has many deeply submerged feminine traits, you are indeed most likely the target of that addendum to our instructions. I fear the good master of the blades is still a bit sore concerning the incident with the brandy bon-bons, though really, it only took a day or two to get all that water out of his office.”
You missed me. Typical tyrannical Chel...
Ty squeezes past the guard, builds up some speed, and nimbly moves along the vertical bars above the other guards’ heads. Dropping down in front of the larger cell, he pivots and stabs the green guard, dropping him to the ground.
She does, I just needed time to weave together all these threads y'all made in some coherent fashion. :) Your copy of the Gallery should be linked at the top and access granted. There is a spot on each slide where you can add your own information of things you've learned about them all, if and when that comes to pass.
The buzz of the crowd settles as Banker Triarius, the sheriff, the Threefold Elders, and the Abadarian inquisitor step out of the church and descend the front steps. ”Flavino! Paxo! Syllus! You are vith the cohortes,” Nickolai the sheriff calls out. ”Cleric and Betto are vith Brother Martus, Burria and Marius are vith Papus, and Lady Elrithrathiel and Andrei are vith me!” Those named are already standing next to their assigned leaders, so Nickolai just nods approvingly. As Banker Triarius steps forward onto the podium built into the steps of the church, another carriage arrives on the scene. ”This morning, you embark on a holy mission. The Laws of Taldor have been violated. The fugitive for whom you seek has violated those laws: she has defied authorities, she has stolen property, and she has murdered.” From the tone in his voice, it’s clear he views the second as the worst offence of the three. The new carriage comes to a stop and a bent-backed old man climbs down from the driver’s seat to open the door. ”You embark on a mission to protect our town, laws, property, and citizens. Many will say that it is a fools errand, as this woman must be nowhere nearby: that is possible, of course, but we cannot afford to be so lax in ensuring our security not to undertake this holy quest anyhow.” An old woman in very fine, if out of fashion, clothing steps out of the carriage, clearly distraught. Locals recognize her as Mrs. Pumpherus, the widow of one of the two mine owners, a wealthy, eccentric woman who lives in a Brookside manor west of the village centre. ”I charge you today: to search diligently, and thoroughly, for this fugitive, not returning to the comforts of hearth and home until your conscience is certain that she will not trouble our village, its persons or its prosperity.” The old woman pushes forward, unaware or uncaring of the speech currently underway. ”Sheriff! Dear sheriff! I need your help!” she calls out, practically in tears. Banker Triarius glares at the interruption, but smooths out his voice and continues, just a bit louder to be heard over the intrusion. ”If you should find her, and you bring her in peacefully for justice, Abadar will smile upon you and bless you with His fortunes. If she does not come peacefully, you are authorized to enact our nation’s laws and justice, and Abadar will smile upon you and bless you with His fortunes.” Banker Triarius concludes his speech, awaiting applause that doesn’t come as all eyes are focussed on the distraught widow nearly crying into Sheriff Androv’s arms. ”My dear Mrs. Pumpherus, vatever is the…” ”Oh sheriff, it’s Tricia. She is missing! Gone! You must help me find my darling baby! She has never been away from home, but this morning, she was out doing her exercises with Brus, and…” ”Mrs. Pumpherus, I am sorry, but I and Papus are about to leave on the manhunt for the fugitive. Ve have no time to search for your Tricia. I am sure she vill return to you in no time. You know she could not bear to be avay from her mother. Perhaps she is already there at home?” Mrs. Pumpherus starts to sputter down. A few local women come over to offer comfort to her as the sheriff extracts himself from the widow’s clutches. The other search parties have already begun to head off and Banker Triarius has returned inside the Church. Deputy Papus glances at Marcus, briefly locking eyes with his fellow Irorite before turning to his team.
For such a sleepy town, any news from the outside is exciting, provoking much discussion and gossip through the early spring nights, even news that affects Outside and not the residents of Lyon's Brook. It was Galdron Tem, the first peddler of the year up from Crossbridge (the small waystation town at the convergence of the Brokenbridge and Falling Rivers) who first brought the news of the escape. Bonita, the crazed Shoanti barbarian woman, who (along with some undisclosed incidents of theft) had murdered ten people, including children, and sucked the marrow from their bones, had escaped a Skathen prison in the early winter. Authorities were convinced that, rather than flee for her native Varisia, she has slowly been making her way down the Brokenbridge river, perhaps even through Crossbridge itself, though no deaths or cannibalism had been reported there as yet. Maybe she was planning to head west into the wilds of Verduran, or maybe not. Everyone should just lock and bar their doors at night, is all Tem is saying. Of course, most people in Lyon's Brook don't have locks on their doors in the first place. Still, it was enough to make folks nervous. Farmers began jumping at shadows, shepherds saw movement out of the corners of their eyes, and even Martus Iullus, out on a hunting trip to the notheast, clearly saw a woman in wild clothing carrying a small, wriggling bundle through the woods, but before he could get a shot off at her, she vanished without a trace. Not even Flavino could find a trace. Whispers of moonshine began to circulate with the others, and folks looked at Martus funny for a couple weeks after that. But the news kept coming. The first merchant from Maheto confirmed that a massive manhunt was underway, and a bounty of 500 gold pieces is offered for the fugitive, dead or alive. The second merchant brought tales of Imperial Naval ships up the Brokenbridge river and a bounty of 1,000 gold pieces. Of course, everybody knows that things this exciting never happen in Lyon's Brook. So it was a surprise when, late in the evening the day before last, Cohortes Mallond Finchus rode into town. The Abadarian inquisitor, cohortes for the northern parts of Krearis prefecture, has come to form well-armed search parties to scour the wilderness around Lyon's Brook for signs of the fugitive's presence. He also brought a wanted poster with a 2,000 gp reward for her capture. The burgomeister and his deputy will be each forming a team, as will Martus Iullus. Of course, the teams are full, but that doesn't stop almost the entire town from coming out to the steps of the Church to see the heroes off and wish them well. Varian:
Though the burgomeister was quite clear last night that you would not be selected for one of the search parties, you’re still hopeful that a bit of adventure might come your way, so you’re in a prime spot to see the speeches and whatever other festivities may ensue today. It doesn’t hurt that Pullia is waggling her fingers at you across the open area at the foot of the church steps.
She isn’t alone, of course, with her father hovering an arm’s length away, and many if not lost of Lyon’s Brook’s citizenship is in attendance. The mysterious elven wizard Elrithrathiel stands aloof by herself—the hero of the goblin invasion is sure to be chosen for one of the search teams—the trouble-maker Marcus has come out (why that boy bothered to return to town you’ll never know) and even Sir Eustus has roused himself, complete with the husky warrior who recently arrived to live at the manor estate. Nobody really knows much about the man, though that doesn’t stop Pullia from waggling her fingers at him, too. As you continue to scan the crowd, you see another rarity beyond the excitement of the day: another stranger, a road-weary half-elf is making his way along the deserted street towards the gathered crowd. Marcus:
The crowd gathering in the early morning has made any attempts at meditation all but impossible, and you must admit a certain curiosity as to who will be chosen for the teams. Papus made it quite clear last night that that would not be you, though he did offer a rare bit of advice in that finding some grand gesture to help the security of the town might go a long way to repair his damaged image. Of course, he also stressed in no uncertain terms that running off half-cocked by himself trying to find this fugitive would not likely end well.
It’s a large crowd of Lyon’s Brook citizenry that has gathered this morning. The mysterious elven wizard Elrithrathiel stands aloof by herself—the hero of the goblin invasion is sure to be chosen for one of the search teams—the popinjay Varian has come out (could that boy look more like a ponce if he even tried) and even Sir Eustus has roused himself, complete with the husky warrior who recently arrived to live at the manor estate. With such a mix, at any given point in time, somebody is scowling at him. But what is this? Fresh blood! Beyond the crowd, a stranger, a travel-weary half-elf is making his way up the empty road towards the gathered crowd. Thraag(s):
It’s a good catch of fish you brought into town this morning, but your three days on The Lake seems to have left you a bit out of the loop, given the large crowd. Asking a few folks gets you the skinny on what’s going on, though as per usual none of the townsfolk you speak to even glance your way as they answer your questions, and you’re pretty sure they won’t even remember the conversations.
”I thought I smelled something fishy this morning, so I knew Thraag had to be in town,” Randal’s friendly tone pipes up from behind him. The shepherd boy nods respectfully towards the eidolon, ”Mr. Thraag. Glad to see you’re wearing pants today. You guys seen any cannibals out by The Lake?” Before you can even reply, you suddenly realize that you’ve wandered past Elrithrathiel, the mysterious even wizard, bumped elbows with Grahm, Sir Eustus’s enigmatic ward, and right through the crowd right out into the open area at the foot of the steps, and you drop a couple fish in your haste to get out of the centre of view. Of course, nobody really seems to have noticed as you make your way to the back of the crowd. Thraag the elder seems to ignore Randal’s playful banter, as usual, and instead is staring down a travel-weary half-elf making his way up the empty road towards the crowd. Lots of excitement all around today, it seems. Grahm:
It was a lovely carriage ride in this morning from the manor estate, Sir Eustus being as amiable a traveling companion as always. The old knight is resplendent in his parade armour and sword: though you know his wrist can hold his falcata as firmly as ever, you suspect he'd collapse under the weight of the full plate armour that rests on the dummy in the front hall. He leans over to inspect your own armour, wiping away a bit of cat fur you'd gotten stuck in one of the joints.
Having arrived, you help the old man down the steps, though he's still quite spry for man of his years. Halvers climbs down from his driver's seat and fetches a folding chair for his master. The man is a bit stuffy--well, the man is a full-on, stuck-up prude--but he serves the old knight well and loyally, and he withdraws back to the carriage, ready and waiting for Sir Eustus' next need. "My boy," Sir Eustus says to you, "I feel that I will have Halvers drive me back as soon as the groups here have left, but why don't you take the day and enjoy yourself in town?" He hands you two gold coins. "That should do you for a bit of shopping and lunch--I'm sure you will enjoy a chance to eat something other than old man food for a change--and I'll send Halvers in the carriage to pick you up before the supper gong rings so you can change." Before you can reply, you feel a bump at your elbow, as a rather pungent fisherman carelessly pushes past you, stumbling out into the open with a large catch in his arms. You’d think such a character would stand out in your kind, despite your infrequent visits to town, but you struggle to put a name to him. Tharg? Thrack? Something like that. As the fisherman and his half-naked companion head to the back of the crowd, your height allows you a good view of a travel-weary half-elf walking up the empty road towards the crowd. Perhaps this is a good day to explore a bit on his own. Kieran: If you'd known how truly close you were, you would have pushed on last night instead of making camp. Not fifteen minutes after setting out this morning, you first heard the roar of a not-so-distant waterfall, and ten minutes after that, crested a hill to see the large village of Lyon's Brook laid out in the valley before you. It's a quaint alpine town, nestled along a bubbling stream within a shallow, narrow valley. A circular stone tower rises up on the edge of a cliff to your right and the road in front of you forks: the right branch leading towards the tower, while the left branch carries you down and into the valley itself. Reaching the bottom, the road intersects another at roughly right angles. To your right, the road leads along the waterfall's pool towards a bridge and gristmill. To your left, the road follows the stream past several once glorious manor houses (the one directly across from you a burnt out rubble). Straight ahead, another bridge leads, first along a large village Green, and then into the centre of town. The town seems abandoned. Even as early as it is, there should be somebody out on the Green or walking the streets, but what you can see is empty, save for a wizzled old woman asleep in a rocking chair on the porch of her cottage across the Green from you. Once around the Green and away from the roar of falling water, you hear the dim buzz of voices down the street and see that some sort of gathering is taking place at the steps of a local church: the Church of Abadar, if you're not mistaken. No other faith would have a building so opulent (others might say garish) in such a small village.
You can remove me from posted interest since I’m also on your finished list.
In the interest of full-disclosure: I’ve been trying to do this campaign story differently than I’ve run home brew games in the past. Previously, I would plan out these stories, get attached to one or two fun scenes I hoped to play out, then gently or not so gently guide the PCs into decisions that let me do so, all the while feeling guilty about the railroading while telling myself it was for the good of the story. For this game, I have no plans requiring you to let her go or take her prisoner. It’s not really a spoiler to say that there’s more going on with Bonita than the accusations from the cohortes. Before choosing PCs, I knew I wanted this game to explore the good versus evil within the worship of Abadar, a lawful neutral god, hence why I was so keen to have Gunnar along when his application came in (among other reasons). The fact that Robert also seems partial towards Abadar, while Maria is against that worship on principal and Fezzen’s slightly larcenous nature automatically puts him at odds with the faith, and Euda is essentially neutral concerning Abadar should lead for some really interesting interactions. All of that is to say, please do whatever you think appropriate for your characters without concern for what needs to happen narratively.
”The great pretzel famine of 4703. Don’t remind me. Those were dark days.”
To what email would you like your bribe money e-transferred?
Wow. Zephyr and TC would be like best buds if they both get in. I read about them on Archives of Nethys. I believe they were introduced in Ultimate Wilderness. They’re humanoid plant creatures made by Druidic ritual to serve as protectors of plants and as companions.
This idea is so awesome. I’m totally blown away!! Bah-dum-tssssss
Arryn points at Vexras and shouts out, ”Bleeding! Wolves bleed in green meadows! Green is pretty! Why don’t trees ever grow down? Stupid trees!”
Cows? Robert, obviously you need to rework yourself back to first level. No rush though. Also, I added entries to the gazetteer for your family and for the Parforys. Anybody with the link above should be able to edit that document (the section "Stuff We've Learned" on each entry is for your folks to take any notes you like), so if there's something you don't like or had a different direction in mind, feel free to change any of it. I don't think I have any other entries to add. Maria has been living in Lyon's Brook for awhile, but she has no family in town. Same for Fezzen, and If there are any locals from your backstories that I missed, however, let me know and I'll make some entries.
For folks still looking for ideas on how to connect with the locals, I started a project that I shouldn't have, but I couldn't stop once I did: Rogue's Gallery of Lyon's Brook Actually running the slide show is the best way to read through the entries.
Deft Maneuvers helps with that tanglevine power and lets her take Greater Trip which means the tanglevine let’s everybody else take AoOs if they’re next to the target when it goes down.
”Okay! Don’t hurt him! I’ll call them off.” He steps forward and starts chanting at the spirits, which turns into a colour spray in the soldier’s face. Will DC 16 ”Charge him!” he shouts in case the spell doesn’t work.
Gilfroy rolls his eyes at Arakar’s “attempt” at deception, but keeps his peace until its clear that the soldier isn’t buying it. When the soldier doesn’t believe Arakar: ”Enough of this,” Gil says and steps back to give himself room. He begins to intone: ”Mistress of Death, give up your prize. Into this realm your children rise! A life to take, to slate your thirst. Send forth your ilk, this man to curse!” He then uses his ghost sound SLA to create the wails of tortured souls slowly rising up behind the soldier (DC 15 to disbelieve). ”Block off the window. Don’t let him escape before the spell is finished or they’ll take us instead!”
Done. It meant killing the +1 bonus to saves vs divine spells, but now he has a +10 bonus in Disable Device after bonuses and penalties. Can't disarm magical traps, but that's what the tiefling's for...
Here is Jaymin Thrushberry, local boy with absolutely no trauma in his past. Happy parents, kid brother, best friend he grew up with, and soon to be married to the prettiest girl (he thinks anyway) in Sandpoint. Oh, and he's built like a tank and carries a huge axe. He also has the Heal skill should we lack for magical healing
Lots... Any chance you could make the game and discussion threads for the Vengeance game so that we can start figuring characters/party out? Plus, for folks like me who rely on the Campaigns tab to keep everything straight, it’s so much easier than checking the forums 30+ times a day for updates.
I have no memory of promising Jax anything and he would never have expressed an interest in leaving.
I’ve gone back and forth on this, but I think I will submit a character for HV, too. I wasn’t going to, but then this kernel of an idea for an elven slayer (sniper/executioner) kept growing in my mind. I have no crunch, but here are the questions.
Q&A:
1. What is your opinion of the Order of the Godclaws failure at Isger? Gods have agendas which may, or more likely may not, be in the best interest of an ordered society. A society which tries to blend the interests of five different gods is pure folly. Society is better off without the meddling of divine beings (including that of Asmodean, of course). 2. Where do you see yourself in the high echelons of Cheliax's tangled web of government?
3. You have captured the loved one of a hero. What do you make them do in exchange for their safe return? Will you keep their word of feast on the tears of absilute sadness?
4. You are transporting a cartload of contraband in a public street when a pair of bored guards stop you talking about passage fees, potential fines and a requirement to search your cart. What do you do?
5. Someone powerful you fancy has invited you into their bedchambers. However there are many unpleasant rumors to the fate of their partners. What do you do?
6. Your lifes nemesis is at your mercy. Give me your villain speech.
7. Without describing their job, name, or appearance tell me who your character is.
I haven’t played any evil characters in so long (before these boards), but here’s a sample of some villainous NPCs. They’re a group of four Norgorborites who each represent one facet of that god, completely owning the PCs in a social setting before they were finally forced to flee and then butchered out in the wilderness.
Praxim doesn't actually have a response for that. The sometimes-snooty, always snarky elf is at a loss. He glances at Tomaru with a mixture of amusement and pity, and then silently tries to hide somewhere. Rexil is big: he makes a good screen.
Unfortunately, Arryn’s force blade disappears after his attack, but he slashes with the dagger.
”Sorry I don’t have a snappy comeback, so have this rock instead.” As the dragon moves off, Arryn drops the dagger, switches the blessing to +2 to attack, gathers power, lifts one of the dragon’s stupid boulders, and hurls it at the flying reptile with a sickening crunch.
If that actually takes the dragon out: Though the boulder falls to the ground below, the dragon itself doesn’t. It just hangs there, motionless, but suspended in the air as Arryn glares at it, his hand outstretched. Arryn clenches his fist and bones begin to crunch in the dragon’s throat before the boy realizes what he’s doing and releases the body to fall limp to the courtyard below.
I’ve allowed the Elephant in the Room feat system for some of my games and I highly recommend it. It frees up so many more feat slots for fun and interesting choices and really makes combat maneuvers a viable build strategy. Of course, what’s good for the goose means that the baddies also get it, which does add work on your end to adjust the printed NPC stats. A quick shorthand I’ve used, rather than going through and choosing new feats for NPC baddies is to default giving them Toughness if they have any feats that would have been negated by EitR, or a flat +1 to saves. Something simple and easy to apply to the mooks, though my big bads get a more unique treatment. Just my 2cp. EitR wouldn’t really benefit my submitted character, unfortunately; at least, not in the beginning.
”We appear to have killed one, and they had a glowing ball fighting for them. How many were there and do you have any idea where they would have gone?”
Are we together? Apart? In town? Camping? Has the game itself started? Sorry, but I’m really confused. Where is this fire? It feels like I’m missing a punch of GM posts or something.
Gil looks on quite helplessly, as none of his magic is useful in this situation. Seeing Arakar's plan taking shape, he can at least help with that. "Yes, friends, if we could overlap those sturdy blankets, we could at least break their fall if they have to jump for it. This is one of those times when we are stronger standing shoulder to shoulder against the evil outside, or above."
At least, that's what folks would have heard him say if his tiny little voice wasn't completely drowned out by the roar of flames and screaming crowds.
So navigating courtly life in Specularum it is...oh wait, you meant literal orcs.
Sword and sorcery in the Grand Duchy is rather vague. I’m dying to know whether we’re chasing goblin hordes from the outskirts of Threshold, navigating courtly life in Specularum, guarding a merchant caravan importing pipe weed from the Five Shires...
Applications: Lady Adria (human [Thyatian] summoner)
He's dangling and stuck, and the spiderwebbing is in all directions. You could still make a run for it, of course. Just saying. It's not like this group doesn't come with a spare Iomedae paladin.
I have finished altering Gilfroy's equipment and backstory to the new campaign. I took the liberty of naming some minor member of the Resistance to account for how he got in, but if there's another PC who would be a better fit, I'm all for it. Submissions so far: Complete
Concepts
Expressions of Interest Only
"I'm sure this den of yours is quite splendid. On the farm, my pa built a really nice little house for our dog, too. And are those the dragon thrall concoctions we found recipes for? I'm sure a dragon as mighty as you has been able to resist such pathetic enchantments. You certainly don't look like a dragon who has been enslaved through mushrooms...at least, I don't think that you do, mighty lord." Arryn carefully takes out two tanglefoot bags and two flasks of alchemist's fire, and sets them down behind his rock, out of sight, but easily reached for with his mind to fling.
”Your hobgoblins?” Arryn asks, feigning surprise. ”Forgive me, most magnificent Scar-Maker, but I had not realized. So many of the hobgoblins we captured and killed in the southern Fangwood told us over and over again how sorry we’d be when their...I shudder to even say the word, oh your greatness...when their ...pet dragon came to serve them. I’m sure they meant no disrespect. Perhaps they’re just confused, like the hobgoblins here. We found maps down below that list your flying speeds and carrying capacity, as if you were some mere beast of burden and not a great and terrifying dragon lord.”
Figuring that the dragon's bellow has alerted his friends down below, Arryn ducks behind a rock pile, and pitches his voice to fill the room (and trickle down the stairs). "Naught but a humble admirer, oh great Scar-Maker. Truly, your magnificent scales are an ebonic sight to behold, as are the of your three breath-taking lizard horses. Tell me: is it true what they say--that your majestic wings can carry you a distance of 160 miles in a single day? Truly speedier than the sinuous run of even a . I bow to you, oh mighty Scar-Maker. May I, your humble servant, bow low like these piles of rocks gracing your beautiful marsh cave, and worship your magnificence?"
Arryn points to the annotation about Longshadow. "Look, that line looks newest." He touches the ink, then sniffs his finger. "Not wet, but I would say the person who wrote this had recently eaten some sort of mutton, using a quill pen with a slightly bent nib, and working from the light of an almost spent lamp, given the smoky hints the ink absorbed. Hobgoblin's hitting Longshadow would not be a good thing, to put it mildly."
Arryn also looks around this ward room for any blank or mostly blank paper. "Who's the best drawer? I think it would be very worth our time to pause and make copies of these maps. When we eventually do find our way back to civilization and help, any authorities we find will need to see these, and if we have copies, there's less chance of all the maps being destroyed."
It's like the night before Christmas checking this every night/morning... afternoon/dinnertime. I’ve managed to cut back to only checking once per half hour. It’s been strange, getting out, meeting people again...
Taking in the diminutive gnome creature in the thick hood, Grigor realizes that some folks can be “trusted” farther than others...
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