The stone path leads into the caverns mouth. Once a torch or two is lit, all concerned can see just inside the entrance. The passage ahead spans 5 feet in width, 15 feet in height (beyond the threshold) and in only 3 or four paces, a stone staircase descends into darkness.
For those listening, a subtle moan drifts from within the cave, sounding as though it comes from the depths of exhaustion...
Karl and Drogan take the lead along with Carver the forester. Once across the threshold there's a weight that settles on their shoulders, but they continue to the stairs. The steps descend until they walk outside torchlight and dwarf sight.
Behind them, annoyed by Pbedron's challenge, Reginald holds his we torch aloft and heads inside ahead of the half-elf wizard. "Status here indeed..." He plunges thru the cave entrance, overconfidence oolong from his bearing. "...I shall be the first to claim my due."
But his bluster fades away as the remainder of the party enters they all begin to hear the singing of the children echoing thru the cavern...
More to come. Feel free to post up and even add some color (or horror) to the cave.
First off, my apologies on dumping out of this campaign without so much as a notice. I did have a bunch of things pop up, but it doesn't take more than a few moments to hammer out an update. No excuses, I owed you guys that much considering how long the game has run.
I've got some travel for work coming up, some writing deadlines to meet and I'm finishing get up the InnRoads Plays Victoriana game too. But along the way I'm going to get this going again. I'm still bonded to the idea of transitioning to Roll20 for this next scene as the party heads into the caverns. But for you guys want to keep it going here on the boards,that works too. I'll have the bandwidth to do either by mid to late April.
So bear with me. Let me know what you'd like, and we'll get back to the echoing songs of the children and the dank caverns beneath St Antoinette's academy.
Ok, guys, I'm going to begin the process of converting your characters over to Roll20. I'm estimating that I'll have the game set up in Roll20 by the end of the month. The goal is to transition the next phase of the game over for a 4 or 5 session run where you infiltrate the caverns beneath St Antoinnette's Academy.
Then, we can decide if we want to make the transition back to Play by Post or continue a live game.
So be thinking about schedules in the month of February and also make sure that your character profiles here on paizo are up to date.
I'm in the midst of a few messes now, but yeah, the dust will settle for us all I'm sure. I'll send out a notice for us to get moving again. I'm not giving up on the game!
In potentialities...would folks here be interested in a one or two night live play of the game via roll20? No recordings, just us playing these characters "face to face".
Sorry gang. Had a family emergency this week dealing with my mom. I'm still in the midst of it right now, helping her get better. I'll try and get something posted by this weekend.
The group stands at the mouth of the cave, their respective light sources casting their meager offerings of illumination into the waiting stone-maw. Reginald and his two cohorts busy themselves preparing torches, but the snobbish leader smirks at Karl’s question.
”Have I seen the green flash?” A shake of the head as he lights his torch. The orange flame casts shadows across his face, hooding his eyes like a flickering cloak. To Karl (and those paying attention), an odd fanaticism glows in their depths. ”I see it every night in my dreams. And I will finally answer its call…” He looks away from Karl and down into the darkness of the cave entrance. He sighs deeply, a satisfaction only found after reading the final lines of a spectacular epic. ”I am returned unto the place of my forming…” The words flow as though committed to memory.
The other two next to him nod in agreement, going so far as to mutter words of their own. If Reginald doesn’t place a torch in front of them, they are even to the point of taking the lead into the cavern. As it is, he nods to Karl and the others. ”After you, gentlemen. I leave the foraging to those better suited to the task. But take heed, the things you see inside are not meant for plundering.”
Gaston, casting aside his nervousness, is suddenly given to an excited shudder as he looks upon the cave entrance. There is fear, but it is overridden by...anticipation. He hums to himself, a tune familiar to some in the gathering.
The tune gives rise to memories uncomfortable...flames in the night and the scattered shadows of those moving into the darkness on their own mysterious errands...a night only two months in the past when the group was confronted by peasants and a sacrificial chamber...and a dwarven nemesis...
Carver suppresses a shudder and nods to the cave entrance. "Let's get a move on, eh?"
The cave is ahead, darkness upon darkness that devours the hearts of lesser sentients. How dost thou tread?
Check your email. I’m sending you what happens there when you don the totem...
Karl stands stock still for a few moments, but eventually emerges from his introspections to see that the gnomes have departed.
I”ll repost my stuff from above to show the completion of the Clearing Scene and then the new Scene at the entrance to the cave…Any interactions you want to do among the party or NPCs before we plunge into the dark?
Nice commentary, Phedron. Too good!
---------------------
The gnomes disappear into the forest, leaving the group in the clearing with the destroyed ghouls and the two remaining totems.
”Bloody savages…” Reginald mutters darkly. But it’s hard to tell if he means the gnomes or perhaps Marsh and the others. His eyes narrow and he smirks at Karl. ”You know the green, hmm?” The question bears the notes of rhetoric as Reginald crosses his arms. ”Then you know our timetable is of utmost importance. Forest or tree-dwelling fools aside, we must be about our business. If you and your men are quite finished…” He leans down and gathers up his satchel to put over his shoulder and waves a dismissive hand towards Carver and Stitches to signal them to get moving.
Agidor moves alongside Drogan and places a hand on his shoulder. ”You okay, mate? Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
For his part, Linkah seems curious regarding the gnomes as they depart into the forest, but when he gives Marsh and Beckett a tap on their hips, he is still wary. ”Wadn’t the gnomes what gimme the frights…” He nods towards the northwest and the hill. ”Ain’t much what gimme the frights, but somethin’ else is watchin’. Makes me feel like I got one o’ them snowcones we could get back in Cassomir, Marshy.”
Again, leaving this open for conversations, just use the heading or spoiler [b](In the Clearing) so I know that’s where it takes place.)
--------------------
The Cave of the Empty
Eventually the party departs the clearing, plunging into the forest with Carver (and Marsh?) in the lead. Over the course of what seems like a day, but may only be an hour, they arrive at a cliff face and the opening of a cave.
”Thankful for them runters,” Carver says off-handedly, looking at the entrance. The cave mouth would have been all but hidden from their gaze had they not emerged from the treeline at the right angle. Thankfully the gnomes’ map did the job. The forester rests his hands on his longbow, one end in the dirt between his feet. An involuntary shudder stirs his shoulders.
A shudder drifts through all those present. There is naught but darkness ahead, the moonlight above hiding behind the crest of the hill. Those of dwarfish or half blood lines can see relatively well, but those without the benefit of ancestral traits find the location too dark by half.
”Get your torches, gentlemen,” Reginald states flatly, giving Gaston a shove to keep him moving.
Once a torch or two is lit, all concerned can see the just inside the entrance. The passage ahead spans 5 feet in width, 15 feet in height (beyond the threshold) and in only 3 or four paces, a stone staircase descends into darkness.
For those listening, a subtle moan drifts from within the cave, sounding as though it comes from the depths of exhaustion...
The cave is ahead, how do you prepare to travel within? What’s the marching order?
Check your Messenger. I’m sending you what happens there along with a translation of the below...
Drogan slips the totem figurine about his neck and freezes, eyes going distant, right hand gripping the object. After a few short moments, the dwarven storyteller emerges from his reverie to find the leader of the gnomes studying him closely.
”Beidh eagla scriosann tú, más rud é nach bhfuil muid tú a chaitheamh air.” He says grimly in Gnomish and places a hand over his chest and bows. He looks to Marsh and Phedron, then focuses on Marsh and gestures once with his chin. ”Ceann amháin níos mó I measc iad beidh ort ar an brat.” Pausing, a glance to Beckett then to the forest beyond them to the south (hinting at Nosa). ”Ach bere, a thabhairt duit an solas, mar tá sé fungas agus bhraith agus Seilg.”
The gnome tribal leader steps away from Drogan and points to two of his people and then to the ground and then to the north towards the hill and the black stone bulk of the Academy in beyond the trees. The two gnomes put away their bows and step forward, conversing quietly with the leader. After a moment the two crouch down and begin working a drawing into the dirt of the clearing, silvery moonlight bathes what becomes a map of sorts, the line of the drawn path depicted by a circle with wavy lines cutting from top to bottom.
Their work done, the two gnomes step away and resume their watch on the forest outside the clearing. The leader points to Carver and Marsh, ”Follow,” He says in Common, pointing at the drawn map on the ground.
With that, the gnomes turn to go… (I’ll leave it open if Dragan or anyone wants to say anything else.)
---------------------
The gnomes disappear into the forest, leaving the group in the clearing with the destroyed ghouls and the two remaining totems.
”Bloody savages…” Reginald mutters darkly. But it’s hard to tell if he means the gnomes or perhaps Marsh and the others. His eyes narrow and he smirks at Karl. ”You know the green, hmm?” The question bears the notes of rhetoric as Reginald crosses his arms. ”Then you know our timetable is of utmost importance. Forest or tree-dwelling fools aside, we must be about our business. If you and your men are quite finished…” He leans down and gathers up his satchel to put over his shoulder and waves a dismissive hand towards Carver and Stitches to signal them to get moving.
Agidor moves alongside Drogan and places a hand on his shoulder. ”You okay, mate? Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
For his part, Linkah seems curious regarding the gnomes as they depart into the forest, but when he gives Marsh and Beckett a tap on their hips, he is still wary. ”Wadn’t the gnomes what gimme the frights…” He nods towards the northwest and the hill. ”Ain’t much what gimme the frights, but somethin’ else is watchin’. Makes me feel like I got one o’ them snowcones we could get back in Cassomir, Marshy.”
Again, leaving this open for conversations, just use the heading or spoiler [b](In the Clearing) so I know that’s where it takes place.)
--------------------
The Cave of the Empty
Eventually the party departs the clearing, plunging into the forest with Carver (and Marsh?) in the lead. Over the course of what seems like a day, but may only be an hour, they arrive at a cliff face and the opening of a cave.
”Thankful for them runters,” Carver says off-handedly, looking at the entrance. The cave mouth would have been all but hidden from their gaze had they not emerged from the treeline at the right angle. Thankfully the gnomes’ map did the job. The forester rests his hands on his longbow, one end in the dirt between his feet. An involuntary shudder stirs his shoulders.
A shudder drifts through all those present. There is naught but darkness ahead, the moonlight above hiding behind the crest of the hill. Those of dwarfish or half blood lines can see relatively well, but those without the benefit of ancestral traits find the location too dark by half.
”Get your torches, gentlemen,” Reginald states flatly, giving Gaston a shove to keep him moving.
Once a torch or two is lit, all concerned can see the just inside the entrance. The passage ahead spans 5 feet in width, 15 feet in height (beyond the threshold) and in only 3 or four paces, a stone staircase descends into darkness.
For those listening, a subtle moan drifts from within the cave, sounding as though it comes from the depths of exhaustion...
The cave is ahead, how do you prepare to travel within? What’s the marching order?
The leader apparent gives a quick sign, four fingers to his temple and then draws a finger across his eyes. In response, the other gnomes lower their weapons. Half of them maintain their watch of those gathered in the clearing. The other half turn their attentions outward to the forest around them, studying the darkness with quiet intensity.
The leader then cocks his head to the side and darts darts a glance towards the trio of nobles before focusing on Drogan. The two, dwarf and gnome exchange words in the gnomish dialect. (I'll handle that conversation directly with Drogan…)
Meanwhile…
As the two converse, Reginald - the lead noble - rubs at his goatee and sneers derisively. ”What use are these creatures if they cannot assist our efforts? They clearly want nothing to do with us. Why do they we just move on.”
”Dawn will be here soon…” Gaston worries, rubbing at his bald pate. ”...can't be caught out here in the light *ahem* in the light over day, right?”
Reginald glares at the shorter man but in the end nods agreement. ”Carver, get us moving again. Double your the pay for getting us back on schedule.”
”Double he says, Stitches.” Carver responds with a quiet whistle and a nudge to the side of the giant half-orc.
Stitches curls a lip and grunts, enlarged lower canines catches strands of moonlight. ”We go as long as it takes, Carvuh. Forest don't shift aside fuh this lot...double the coin or no.” He looks around at the gnomish tribesmen surrounding them. ”I'm o’ the mind these lil puds got a thing ta say if we up n’ walks. I'll squish ‘em...but I'd rathuh not.”
Gaston is at Reginald’s elbow, wringing his hands. ”But the green, Regi...we'll miss the gree…”
But his words are cut off as Reginald back hands him across the mouth. Stunned, Gaston stumbles over his feet and tumbles to the ground.
”Mind your tongue, lest you lose it!” Reginald hisses.
You survey the three nobles, Reginald, Flavios & Gaston, searching their demeanors for evidence of betrayal. While you don’t sense that from them, they carry themselves in various states of anticipation. Reginald is by far the leader of the trio, the most level headed and apparently the more wise of them. But he’s also the one most likely to provide the impetus to the others for turning on you and the group. Right now, your team is a means to an end, but you could be competition.
Link glances Drogan’s way then nods northwards. ”Ain’t nothin’, Dragon-drum…” His left cheek twitches once and he brushes at his nose. ”...call it a feelin’ what gimme the uncomfortables is all...like the lot o’ us is bein’ watched… Makes me think o’ me time on the ship, when cap’n would be spyin’ us from across decks...makin’ sure what the halfers ‘r up to...”
Longtime friend to the halfling, Karl knows to trust Link’s gut instincts and summons the group to be on their guard. Stitches puts a hand on the haft of his earthbreaker and nudges Carver to knock an arrow. For the trio of nobles, while Gaston and Flavios paw at the short swords at their hips, Reginald draws his rapier with a flourish and places himself within reach of the big half-orc, Stitches.
Agidor rests a hand on Link’s shoulder and limbers his bow while the halfling flexes his wrist to allow a pair of daggers to slip into his hands from up his sleeves.
To the north, the leaves of the undergrowth bushes and brambles rustle, a short statured shadow that hadn’t moved before now shifts and resolves. Stepping into the clearing, a gnome of dark skin and darker hair looks over the gathered group. He has a painted face of odd shapes and symbols, a red swath across his eyes like a drawn mask. Upon his body he wears basic cloth to cover the necessaries with bone and wood armor over it all. At his side is a single, short sword made of hardened wood with razor-sharp spikes along the leading and back edges. About his neck is a single object of wood, carved in similar asymmetrical shape as those gathered beneath Beckett’s hammer. Looking over the group with large, brown eyes and a furrowed brow, he stands confidently.
He takes in a breath and says, ”Cén fáth go bhfuil sé caithfidh tú teacht ar na crainn? A bhfuil sé a lorg agat Go mbeadh tú a riosca an dorchadais?”
Gnomish:
”Why is it you have come to the trees? What is it you seek that you would risk the Darkness?”
As soon as the gnomish words are out of his mouth, the brush and brambles surrounding the forest clearing stir with activity. Into the open spills a dozen gnomes of similar appearance and armament.
Actions? I’ve added a pic of one of the gnomes to the 3rd page of the “Local Map” linked above. Check your stats below, I believe some are still wounded...
You cast outwards with your senses, seeking to focus upon the wooden trinkets clustered near the chewed and mutilated gnome corpses. Indeed, looking at them now you have flashes of the fire at the warehouse in Dog's Teeth, the wooden statue pulled from the flames and the insidiously carved trapezoidal wolf heads. Though these are but a few inches in height, there is no doubt as to their dark inspiration.
Your divine senses immediately detect the resonance of unfettered, wild evil. Like seeing into a maelstrom of chaotic black swirling with frozen terror beyond your vision yet close enough to reach into your core with gnawing desperation.
For a lesser man, one not granted the mantle of Sarenrae, the force and fear seething within each of the fetishes would be enough topple his sanity over the cliff's edge. For Beckett Foxglove, the rippling horror dwelling beyond sight only gives him a glancing chill down the spine.
Phedron:
Your arcane construction drifts into the clearing like a fog bank over Cassomir bay. Blades of grass and the subtle footprints of awakened and magical animals give of the faintest of traces. Interesting in that it would seem there are several creatures of varying types of magical latency, but that isn't what holds the half-elf’s attention.
The trinkets, carved into horrid asymmetry, gives off a deep purple glow and all resonate with something at the edge of the clearing. Your keen eyes trace along the tendrils of aetheric energies, a spider's web extending to the north face of the clearing and beyond the darkness hinted at by the sparse treeline.
You close your eyes and for the briefest of moments you see the gold leaf rose emblazoned upon the cover of your book. That and a subtle glow of putrid green light movie about the deeper forest...watching you all.
You blink and the glow is gone, but not the icy grip of fear tickling along your scalp and down to the nape of your neck.
Stitches strides to Carver and pulls a phial of red-amber liquid. Once Drogan finishes his magical workings, he lifts Carver unceremoniously to a seated position. The forester opens his eyes groggily, dark circles under them where the taxation of harm and heal is eve doesn't. The giant half-orc tips his head back and pours the phial’s contents down his throat.
CMW Potion:2d8 + 3 ⇒ (8, 6) + 3 = 17
”Fascinating.” Reginald says, stepping cautiously towards one of the felled ghouls and its horror cloak.
”Leave over, Regi.” Gaston warns nervously, kicking his lips.
Reginald, for his part, gives pause to his progress, but continues to observe. ”So the gnomes are just as much a threat in spite of their...proclivities.”
”We move out soon.” Stitches says in his flat tone. ”Sun ‘ll be up in two hours. We must cross inna the caverns ‘fore that.” He looks down at Carver whose wounds are knitting together and offers a hand to get him to his feet.
”Quite.” Reginald acknowledges, but his eyes never leave the ghoul.
Actions, interactions? Ready to advance to the caverns beneath St Antoinette’s?
The tattered flesh and black-blooded gore cling to Drogan’s axe, the ichor seeping into the pressed sigil of the Blackhammers on its blade face. Seconds pass as the dwarf’s vehemence recedes like the poison that coursed his and his comrades’ veins, leaving himself, Karl and Beckett free of its paralysis. All still feel the burning fire of the ghoul poison under their skins like an echo of the monster's wounds that tore their flesh. Something they will not soon forget.
But Carver still lays with several gaping claw wounds and a crushed chest, wheezing for breath. It seems the wounds of the ghoul are one thing, but the near possession by the shredskin is another. The forester remains on his back, eyes staring upwards in gaping fear at the silvery moonlight above.
Heal Check DC 10:
It's clear that Carver is near death from his wounds alone; several lacerations from the ghoul claws, crushed ribs from the shredskin’s constructions. But what's worse is the look in his eyes; soul-freezing fear. Healing the body will do wonders, but there may be worse damage to his psyche.
It's only moments later that the others arrive in the moonlit clearing, Stitches holding his earthbreaker before him.
In the middle of the clearing, where the ghouls had originally been huddled feasting, a mass of torn flesh and jagged bones are all that remain of two, small bodies.
Perception or Heal DC 15:
These are really the remains of two gnomes. There are odds and ends of what appear to be wooden trinkets, carvings of various styles but of a singular shape; a conical body with two trapezoidal heads vaguely reminiscent of wolves.
Actions, interactions?
---------------------------------------------
Characters
Karl - 21/31 HP
Drogan - 16/22 HP
Phedron- 25/25 HP
Beckett - 19/26 HP
Lavios - 31/31 HP
Carver, half-elf Forester - 3/30 HP | Severely Wounded
Rounds 6 Ends
Phedron slips into the fray, bringing his elvish curve blade across the ghouls shoulder and cutting it. Beckett lunges forward but his hammer only churns up more of the first floor add the ghoul springs out of the way. Lavios also finds his target with a quick stab of his trident!
Purplish black ichor drops from claw and fang as the undead fiend turns its attentions upon Beckett! It moves with sickening grace at the sun goddess worshiper, roping into him with one out its claws. Though it misses with the next swipe, the damage is done (7 pts Damage | Paralyzed 1 Round)
So, shall I bot Lavios? Are ya there, buddy? Only one ghoul with a controlling shredskin remains! Also, Phedron, are you trying to fillet the shredskin from the ghoul? Or just attack the combo?
Karl & Phedron: You do indeed see Drogan seize up.
Karl's blade expertly flays the skin from Carver's head and torso, killing the horrid monster outrjght. The forester crumples, senseless to the ground.
Nope. Just waiting on you guys. There's a post up already for those scouting ahead. And a post for those staying with the main element. They're spoiler'd so you might have missed it. There's also a new Demgazi map link in giant letters at the top of the thread and in that very same post. It's been up since Wednesday.
Of course I've hit a speed bump or two the last month as I prep some shows for InnRoads. I've got to be better about keeping you guys engaged. Y'all have a lot of time invested in the game and I need to honor that too.
Gray Bar on page 2 is the cliff face leading up to the school
They move around the southwest edge of Demgazi, Stitches and Carver lead the way with their charges in tow. Behind them, the party. To their right the walls of the small town soar 20 feet above. They tread in and out of pools of light cast by torches mounted on the wall at regular intervals. Beyond the torches, they can see guards roaming the walls, watching them as they pass. Even in the dark shadows their suspicion of the party are clear.
"Nevuh mind 'em," Stitches says over his shoulder. "They leaves outsiduhs to themselves."
"S'long ya keeps ya arses away from their gates at night." Carver adds.
Continuing past Demgazi places them at the edge of Goptner's Grove. The title doesn't do the place justice. The trees ahead of them grow densely under the lurking shadow of the hill beyond. Raising a torch aloft reveals a path into the forest.
Carver signals to Karl and then Linkah that it's time to scout ahead. The three move into the deeper forest, following a narrow path until they are out of site of the rest of the party.
The trio flit through the forest, careful of footing and keeping a sharp eye out for danger. It isn’t long before Karl raises a hand to signal he’s spotted something in a small clearing ahead. He sneaks up next to a tree and surveys the scene, Linkah to his left and Carver two trees over to his right. In the clearing there are three figures hunched together. They appear humanoid in general shape, the cloaks they wear have a greenish tinge as spears of moonlight pierce the canopy above.
But Karl sees something further. Beneath the cloaks, the humanoids have a general purplish-blue color to their skin as he catches glimpses of forearms and thighs.
The last thing he senses for sure, is sound. It is the unmistakeable gnashing of teeth as the three figures in the clearing devour a meal. The veteran warrior considers what he sees and hears, but nothing of his experience tells him more than to acknowledge the crawling feeling along his skin.
What do you do?
Those With the Main Group:
Beckett, Drogan, Phedron, Lavios & Agidor
As the scouts head forward to explore the path ahead, the remainder of the group maintains a slower pace with Stitches’ 7’ frame leading the way. The three noblemen - which after a few moments listening to them complain it is apparent what the are - turn their attentions to Phedron and Drogan and Lavios and Agidor, the thinnest of the trio speaking for the others in a reedy whisper.
”So, why is it you seek this entrance to the school?” He says, retrieving a finely woven, monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket. He dabs at his forehead, licking his lips as he studies the party in the faint moonlight penetrating the canopy above. ”Are you Seekers?”
The second man gives the reedy-voiced one a shove. ”Mind your tongue…” He hisses in warning. But he looks to the party for their response.
Going to have to ask for your continued patience, guys. For some reason when I attempted to sit down and draft the next scene something pulled me out of my writing mode. I shall do my utmost to get things on a more regular schedule this week.
Carver shrugs. "Wolves, lil pesky gremlins...ghoul or two what been feedin' on Demagazis gone womdering. Then there's the gnomes. Wonky gits, that's for sure."
He looks to Karl and nods. "Ok, then. You me n' the wee one. We can scout ahead. Stitches here will keep the rest on the trail."
Okay, those scouting let's get a perception check (or survival) and a stealth check. Time to go into the woods.
Western Edge of Demgazi, South of Goptner’s Grove | All
The next day arrives and departs, thankfully taking the heat along the way. Leveraging Vacla’s information and his map, the party determines that while the forest holds plenty of unknown quantities, it’s the caverns beneath the school that could pose the most danger. Luckily, Borrs and his brothers can provide equipment for the journey (50 gold per person should cover the spelunking gear you need}.
Just before departing to make the meeting with Carver, Stitches and the group you’ll be escorting, Nosatrub pulls the party aside for a discussion. It’s then that he reveals his intent to stay on with Borrs and his brothers as he searches the town of Inspitah for a potential squire. It is apparent that he feels passionately about this next phase in his life, but indicates that should the party need his help, they’ve but to ask. His departure, while unexpected, feels temporary but important.
---------------------------
True to their word, Carver and Stitches are waiting for Beckett and his party of adventurers. Whether they’re surprised by the arrival of seven armed men to the little shack on the other side of Inspitah, they don’t let on. But the trio of humans with them are another matter.
”Just what is the meaning of this?” The first one complains, running a hand through his well-groomed hair and looking decidedly out of place in the dingy travel clothes on his shoulders. ”We’ve paid our fee and you won’t be seeing a single coin more.”
”Quite right.” A second pipes up.
”Put a sock in it,” Carver interrupts, teeth grinding with the annoyance. ”Fees doesn’t change, we jus’ gots support for the trip. Be happy for it.”
”Gathuh yuh things. We’re leavin’.” Stitches says evenly, holding his Earthbreaker over his shoulder. The half-orc’s 7 foot frame is garbed in dark colors, mottled grays and blacks under a set of studded leathers. At his feet is a pack larger than Linkah, pounds of gear carefully arranged that includes a length of silk rope, pitons and even a pair of climbing hammers.
The nobles make no more arguments, picking up their own - much smaller - packs and falling in line.
”Look here, scrapper,” the forester addresses Beckett. ”I take the lead when we hit the Grove. Any of you lot got the sneaks, eh? I can do with another scout.” He eyeballs Karl then Linkah then Agidor, then the others. ”Maybe those two.”
So, how do you want to proceed into Goptner’s Grove? It’s roughly a quarter mile of travel through the forest before you reach the rocky foothills below the big hill supporting St. Antoinette’s.
Hey guys, sorry for the scarcity this week. I've been prepping for the InnRoads Actual Play and it's a bit consuming combining that with RL. I'll be back in the swing of things next week.
Butb I'm be available for the coversations and questions.
There are three dwarves at the table when Karl approaches, tankard of ale in hand, a greeting on his lips. At the mention of his business, one of the three gestures for him to take a seat at their table. Although he has a stern gaze and furrowed brow, the expression seems to be inscribed on the dwarf’s face.
”Borrs Stoneheel,” He greets. ”Assume yo been sent by Corg. Glad the ol’ son of a mountain finally got it done.”
A second dwarf at the table, one with a face very similar to Borrs but more readily split with an expression other than sternness, asks. ”Six months?”
”Aye.” Borrs waves a calloused hand towards the other two. ”Mah blood, Trudo n’ Handt.”
Both nod greeting.
”Le’s see her, then. Ah’ve been waitin’ a long time ta see Corg’s work.” He waves away the surroundings, intent on the implement. ”People here no better than ta cause a stir with me n’ mah brothers. We can settle up here.” He eyes Karl more closely, taking in the table where the rest of the group is located. ”Ya don’ look like normal couriers, lad. Ya got business out East, or lookin’ ta set up shop?”
Okay, all, time to reconvene and info share. Plus you've the delivery to Borrs... You have a day and - if you agree to go with Carver & Stitches - you depart for the school on the hill.
”Okay, scrapper.” He acknowledges with bow of the head. ”You says all for free, who am I ta question the divines, eh?”
Heavy boots approaching draws the forester’s eye briefly, not out of surprise, more from recognition. Lumbering through the pools of light cast by the various lanterns and braziers approaches a half-orc of such prodigious height he has to duck under the nearby lantern casting light upon the scene. Standing well over 7 feet, skin a greyish-black hue, canines protruding from his lower jaw a good 3 inches, the fellow doesn’t need the massive hammer on his back to look imposing. If it weren’t for the fact he is garbed in traveling leathers and tunic and jerkin, the half-orc cuts a figure harkening more closely to his more beastial half.
The forester gives the giant a nod of the chin. ”Stitches.”
”Cahvuh,” the half-orc answers. He slips his hammer of his shoulder smoothly and lets the head rest between his feet, resting his palms on the end of the handle. Beckett recognizes an Earthbreaker when he sees it, owing to the tales of Shaonti tribes near his homeland.
”Stitches, give a hullo ta Mister Beckett there,” Carver waves a hand in the Inquisitor’s direction.
Stitches turns his frame towards Beckett, the lantern nearby illuminating the right side of his face where most of his ear is missing. A long, snaking scar runs from the top of his head down to his neck. The old wound having been bound together with what seems steel wiring, it’s easy to see where the half-orc got his name. ”Hullo,” He says simply, voice like a tempany drum. Though it could be mistaken that such a large being would be dull of wit, it’s hard to say when seeing his eyes. They survey Beckett closely.
”Mister Beckett ‘as given his warrant ta accompany our lil endeavour under the caves. See to it we gets our rich wankers to the school. All for free.”
”Free.” A statement or question, it’s hard to tell given that Stitches doesn’t remove his gaze from Beckett.
”Aye yuh. They’ve got doin’s in the school, so they offer a few blades, we lead ‘em in, then we part company.” Carver folds his arms aross his chest, the first time he’d released his grip on the bastard sword at his hip. ”This one’s a true believah, ain’t that a sort, eh?”
”Climbuh’s group.” Stitches says. He stops and looks at Beckett’s weapon. ”Humans… dwarf… halfling…” His eyes cut to the side momentarily to catch a glimpse of Linkah in the back of the nearby cart. Then he looks back to Beckett. ”...survived Death Dogs n’ the Hoppers. So Auran says.”
”Hoppers, huh?” Carver nods, impressed.
Stitches just nods. ”They come. They get none o’ the contract.” He looks to Carver, head turning. ”We’ve a butcher’s bill ta pay.”
Carver frowns, the last bit reminding him of something he’d prefer to forget. But he waves towards Beckett. ”Go on, then, gather your mates n’ make it back here. We leave in an hour.”
Stitches rests a heavy hand on Carver's shoulder. "Tomorrow night. This hour. We leave."
"But..." Stitches' glare stops any further argument from the forester. Instead, he says. "Right then."
The forester is suspicious. All the things Beckett had said were in line with what he'd expect. The mention of fighting off the Death Dogs raises an eyebrow of appreciation. But when it's mentioned that the aid would be free of charge, he holds up a hand. "Wait a tick, you're sayin' you got business in the school, eh? Wanna team up and get in from under..." He presses his hand to his chest and grins. "...me, I can appreciate a man who knows his limits, sure." His smile fades and he tilts his head to the side. "But ya want me to believe you're gonna join up for the free? What's your angle, scrapper? Gotta job you're pullin'? Gets me thinkin' if me n' Stitches brings you n' yours along for this little stroll, maybe we're invitin' more risk than we know, savvy?"
He rolls his shoulders, then his eyes as he hears muffled voices from inside the shack. He swiftly gives the door a kick. "Shut it." He commands. Then he returns his attention to Beckett, eyes rolling and shaking his head as if to say, tourists, right? . "So give over, scrapper. What sorta jackpot's waitin' for ya? Maybe you give me and Stitches a cut, we show ya in, even help if there's a melee."
