Lyssa refills her small mug, this time with coffee.
"Ahh introductions perhaps, my name is Lloyd and I am a scholar seeking the origins of language and species. I perhaps overestimated my knowledge and whilst exploring old catacombs triggered a rather cunning teleport trap and now it would seem find myself in the company of heroes.I have a few minor magics and if you would have me I would gladly accompany you on whatever madcap recklesness you have planned, at the very least until I can find a town with hot baths"
"Heroes?" Lyssa laughs. "And how do you know we are not the robbers you are too poor to interest?"
He starts a slow lilting wordless chant and the bitter smell of blood, unwashed bodies and stale clothes lifts from you all.
"Thats better, now which Mythic Godlings do I find myself travelling with?" he says with a smile.
Lyssa breathes in, "Ah, now that's nice. Maybe we'll kidnap you instead of robbing you." She raises her mug. "Lyssa Storm, at your service."
"And I can vouch for the validity of your stout friend. He did pass a farmers cart, ambushed and abandoned, on the trail some miles back."
A figure in a dark hooded cloak can be made out at the edge of the clearing, it's features obsured by shadow.
"'Twas an Owlbear that did it, but rest easy my friends for 'tis long gone now. A well fed farmer will stave off it's hunger for this night at least...Would it be rude of me to take comfort from the warmth of your fire?"
The young Paladin, barely old enough to be called a man, shakes his head as War enters the camp. Ever since his chance meeting at the Starving Stirge, he never knew what to truly make of the extreme Dwarf. There was no malice in his heart. He was a Dwarf, plain and simple. The Paladin had to accept that. With concern in his voice, he says, “Glad you found us. What is this speak of an ambushed farmer?”
Before the Dwarf can answer, a silhouette speaks from the edge of camp. After a few words, the man enters and Osric serves a comforting drink. Alajos keeps his hands free for the moment to better assess the situation.
"Thats better, now which Mythic Godlings do I find myself travelling with?" he says with a smile.
Alajos frowns as he feels a tingling in his body and listens to the question of the newcomer. As he speaks, he searches the heart of the approaching scholar, “I am Alajos. A mere servant of my Lady Muir. May her justice be found in all places.”
The Paladin begins to extend a forearm in greeting when another reaches the edge of the firelight. “Come into the light,” the Paladin says as he searches the soul of this one as well, “We will share our camp, but first, explain who you are and what brings you here on such a foul night?”
"Welcome one, welcome all! We have a warm fire, tankards of ale and a nice sizzling leucrotta on the fire. Additionally, we are all on a quest gauranteed to make us rich, famous, and powerful beyond imagination, here read this if you can..." takes out adventurer-seeking document and passes it around. "Now tell me that doesnt sound like an excellent way to spend some time."
Otto turns to the new-comer boasting of magic knowldege. "I know a little magic too, friend, or should I say it knows me." ((Casts prestidigitation on hand to wreath it momentarily in purple sparks.))
With introductions made, Otto will settle back into sleep with absolutuely no intention of rising again until daylight. He will pull the cloak over his head to muffle any unwanted sights or sounds as needed.
Osric slowly but surely moves closer to put a tree or some other large object to his back and watches these new comers with suspicion.
Gives a big toothy grin.
The cloaked stranger steps into the firelight, pulling back his hood to reveal sharply pointing ears. A curved, unstrung longbow is slung over his back, next to a fully stocked quiver. Resting easily at his hips are scabbarded swords; one long and one short. As he steps over to a vacant rock you hear the soft creak ofhis supple leather armour.
After removing his forest green cloak the elf speaks...
"Many thanks. My name is Belflin Oakbow. I am a ranger out of the Forest Kingdom to the South. I was recently in Reme and couldn't help but overhear your talk in the tavern, The starving Stirge, I believe. I had business to attend to and by my return you had already left. Luckily for me I had me a dwarf to trail."
“Greetings Belflin Oakbow,” the Paladin says once he feels a goodness about the Elf. Extending a forearm, he continues, “I am Alajos of Muir. Please join the comfort of our fire. What news of the South and your journeys?”
"grunts..."
"Is that elf I smell?"
"Have some coffee."
Belflin takes the proffered coffee, smiling politely at Osric.
"What news of the South indeed. Well I can say that friends of mine within the Farseekers are concerned with the threat of a
humanoid assault upon the Lyre valley. Gnolls are on the move again although I haven't seen any as yet on my travels."
This small and elite group of rangers and scouts
consists entirely of elves and half-elves. The Farseekers
are distrustful of humans, and have a healthy disdain
for dwarves. They keep to themselves and are only
rarely seen within the walls of Bard’s Gate (and even
then, few if any know who they are). Their numbers
vary, but usually average about two dozen.
The Farseekers are concerned with the threat of
humanoid assault upon the Lyre valley and its possible
effects upon the region’s plants and wildlife. By
the same token they are greatly distressed
by the increasing amount of mercantile traffic that moves
through the Lyre Valley, to and from Bard’s Gate. As
the group is of good or neutral alignment, the Farseekers
have no intentions of attacking or damaging the city,
but they also have been known to actively discourage
anyone from traveling too deeply into their territory.
Trespassers may find themselves captured or magically
incapacitated and escorted from the forests, while
others may receive a stern warning from their leader,
Oberon or one of his lieutenants.
"Your kindness is most apreciated Alajos of Muir. As is that of your companions. I wonder; would you have me regail you with a tale befitting one of your status? And I am sure it may be of interest to your boon companions also as it involves the possibilty of great wealth, fame and fortune."
Alajos nods, “As of my status,” the smooth-faced youth looks almost awkward, “I am merely a humble servant of Muir,” his awkwardness disappears as he continues, “may her courage and valor bring peace as her mighty arm sweeps evil from this land. But yes, do speak of this tale and tell me of the Farseekers. I do ask you keep it short though, even her Lady’s servant needs some rest.” Walking over to Osric, the Paladin nods at the Half-Orc as he finally gets a mug of coffee.
"So, did we camp at a coachpost?" Lyssa asks, but with a smile.
"A story is always welcome."
"Thank you, for 'tis but a short tale...Many years ago, a paladin of great renown, named Karith, roamed the world, righting wrongs, slaying dragons and protecting the innocent. The deeds of this great man border on the unbeleivable, In my opinion but anyway... Karith wielded the mighty sword 'Entrancacor'."
War mumbles under his breath, "'Tis dwarven...means 'Slayer of Demons'"
The elf nods at War,
"Indeed the finest dwarven smiths and enchanters forged this sword for the Holy Order of the Justicars - the paladins of the goddess Muir - over 1,000 years ago. Legend holds that no greater weapon was ever forged, before or since. Tales tell of demon armies recoiling from a lone man wielding this sword. The sword was passed from grandmaster to grandmaster within the holy order and Karith was the last grandmaster of the Justicars.
Belflin takes a long swig of coffee, "mmm, this is good. Where was I, oh yes...As Karith neared the end of his life, the gods of good bade him wait patiently for his successor to appear. None came for none were worthy. The high priests were instructed by their gods to have faith. After several years, a female celestial of Muir visited the priests. In angelic splendor, the celestial instructed the priests to relinquish the sword into her keeping. She revealed her plan to set the sword in a temple, hidden in a deep valley within a distant desert, where it would await discovery by a paladin worthy to retrieve it and bear it forth again. By it's recovery, the celestial told the priests, they would know the new grandmaster of paladins.
Now legends call the resting place the 'Temple of the Justicars', and although many brave paladins have attempted it's recovery, to this day, none have succeeded."
Belflin rises and sets his drink down.
"I think sleep is needed. If you wish me to take a watch I will. If not then morning awaits."
Morning brings a different world. The sky is clear and sunlight reflects off the distant snowcapped peaks of the Stonehearts to the North. Your breath mists in the still morning air as you break camp and set off East toward Fairhill.
as you break camp and set off East toward Fairhill.
"All right comrades, I think we got lost what with all the rain yesterday, but we should make town today... I hope! Keep your eyes peeled and ready for anything. There could be prying eyes watching us. I have noticed a particularly foul raven of late that seems to be watching us."
while picking up his gear and stowing it all very meticulously, "Raven's make a good meal Otto, so If it seems to be bothering you shoot it down and we will cook it up." Whistles as he walks, Osric seems in a much better mood with the sun up and dry clothing.
You travel on for most of the day, and finally spot the tell-tail beacon of Fairhill, just visible in the sunlight, as you crest a rise in the trail. It looks to be a good few miles further on, perhaps 20 -30.
It seems that another nights camp may be on the cards unless you press onwards.
As you stop for a water break along-side a stream, you see a strange rock formation atop a hill to the west. It is about 250' away and up a light grassy incline. A faint trail leads to it. You can’t be sure, but from your current angle it looks as if the rocks have been placed purposefully.
As he wakes, Alajos invites the morning sun into his deep blue eyes. “You bring the good weather to us, friend Elf,” Alajos says to Belflin. “Thank you for last night’s tale. A story of Muir’s dedicated followers aids me to acknowledge and reflect on my duties to my Lady and this land.”
Preparing his gear for the day’s march, the Paladin sets his pack on his back and his shield on his left forearm.
Alajos studies the possible rock fortification in the West. “You said Gnolls are in the area?” Alajos asks looking towards the Elf. “Are they known for their building skills? Should we investigate? It is only a short walk, and if it is nothing, it may prove a suitable and defensible camp for the night. Unless we should press on to Fairhill.”
"Tis only a short walk up the hill and I am curious about those stones as well. The view might also prove useful."
Otto approves going up the hill and will look for any opportunity for some action. Upon investigating, if anything seems even the slightest out of the ordinary he will cast detect magic as soon as possible. He will have his spear out and used as a walking stick.
"A camp with shelter sounds marvelous -- if unoccupied," Lyssa observes. She limbers her crossbow and follows the others.
"Lead on my friends. 'Tis worth investigating."
You all progress slowly and cautiously toward the top of the small hill. The town of Fairhill is more clearly visible in the afternoon sunlight now and you can make out the trail that leads toward it through the pine forests to the East.
As you get close to the strange stone outcropping you can discern that someone has arranged the large rocks on the top of the hill in the shape of a grinning human skull. All in all there must be over a hundred stones in total. The skull seems to be looking towards the North.
War looks at the outcropping.
"Ha! Noo dwarf made dis, dats fer shure. Gud job too coz it'z a stinkin pile o'..."
"...and no Gnoll did this either. It's geometry is to regular for gnolls. It seems we have a mystery."
Otto concentrates on the stones, his fingers wavering in their direction
Otto:
"Tis a pile of rocks, who cares who put it here?"
"I like this not," Alajos states grimly. Unsheathing his sword, the Paladin moves toward the stones and concentrates on the area. During his assent, he turns to face North to possibly view what the stone-skull might be looking at.
Alajos stares Northward, toward the distant,majestic sentinel-like peaks of the Stoneheart Mountains.
Alajos: Knowledge (local) DC20
Searching around the rocks reveals
((I do not have my dice here at work (LOL) but I would like to make a spell-craft chack to see if I can determine the type of faint magic.))
"I feel something, lads! Come, help me dig out whatever it is, there is magic here, I can FEEL it!" Otto frantically circles the area, looking for anything that might suggest magic. He will poke, prod, turn over the stones till he can find what it is. Otto does not like to leave mysteries unsolved, and ESPECIALLY does not like to leave magic which could empower himself. He will also send his mice scurrying down and around the stones, though he is not hopeful that the barely trained creatures will find anything useful, still any port in a storm!
If more than half an hour is spent with no additional signs, he will become discouraged and give up, ready to move on or have dinner, whichever the rest decide. "This infernal inactivity is putting us all into a funk!" he will exclaim, stomping his foot.
Osric will sit down next to a tree and watch the frantic digging. If nothing is found he will giggle softly to his self but if something is found, shock and amazement will appear on his face and he will rush to look at it.
Cant post any more at the moment
Lyssa stands watch over the group, keeping an eye on the surrounds while the men dig.
Alajos quits his search after finding little except carvings on rocks depicting goat heads. “What is it Otto?” the Paladin asks as he move closer to aid the magic wielder. In the distance he catches Osric smirking.
"Humpf"
Otto mumbles something about "Magic long lost to the lands..." as he walks past the brutish half orc, he grins and stops. "My little spies have many eyes. Here, meet my Mize, Thing 1 and Thing 2!" So saying, he flourishes out his hand and launches the two mice onto the half-orc's shoulder, cloak, hat, etc. After a few seconds of capering, he will whistle a high tune and call them back to him with a vast whipping corner of his cloak.
"Camp or move on, my stout hearts? Tis late in the afternoon and my stomach grumbles, even the leucrotta's rotting stench of yester eve brings fond recollections."
Alajos’s mouth curves in disgust at the thought of the creature from the previous night. He turns his gaze to look at the city in the distance, then to the sky to view the waning sun. “I have no desire to stay here. If I could, I would smite this whole mound. I say we march to Fairhill.” The Paladin turns his gaze to Otto, “Tell your stomach, the quicker we get there, the sooner we can quiet it. What is the consensus?” his gaze circles the entire group before stopping at Osric, “Half-Orc, you seem to have quiet opinions, shall we march?”
Cant post any more at the moment
Otto, always fretful, paces back and forth, eying each of his companions in turn, searching for... something. "Did I ever tell you about this amulet? he will ask anyone who looks interested, sitting down on a stone and unwrapping it from the linen kerchief.
Alajos's attention turns to the mage.
"I say March, I could do with a roof over my head and hot meal in my belly, even if it takes us a bit to get there."
Osric stands stock still while the mice caper upon him, barely breathing till they leave, yet his eyes never leave the rock that Otto picked up from the ground.
"Sigh...that is of course if any have the funds for such, as I must admit my funds as meager as they are have run out."
"no Otto though you have mentioned it on several occasions you have yet to speak of it. Have at it and let us in on your little secret."
“Companions, I have a tale to tell, one that will chill you to the spine, brighten your eyes with the lust for gold, and give you a better idea of our quest. I fear to tell the tale in a public space, let us camp here tonite and I will tell you the true purpose behind this little adventure of ours.” He smiles and looks around, and notices the half-orc’s look of concern.
“Have no fear, friend, all I spoke of is true, but there is more, much more! We are going to raid a wizards tower, known for his wealth and hoarded treasure! According to my sources, the place hasn’t been abandoned long, and should be ripe for the picking.” He will wait until they are comfortable, mentioning that ‘another brace of conies might go quite well with the tale.” With a sly wink at our scout Lyssa.
As you know I am a sorcerer of no small renown. Well, I have been apprenticed to the top minds in the field, before I left to make my mark in the world. I know wizardry, and I know of a certain foolish wizard who wtried to meddle in power to great for his own good. This amulet…”holds it up to catch the last rays of the sun…”Comes from his tower, and it is there we travel. It is near Fairhill, we should arrive in the next couple days, by my calculations. And from there, it should be a simple matter of unlocking the door and filling bags with loot. Oh! I hope everyone brought plenty of empty sacks?”
Otto leans back and lets the story sink in. Some one mentions danger. “Danger! Pah, look at us, we are stout warriors, and what my spear or your sword wont slay, I can blast with my magic!” Saying this, he casts prestidigitation (Otto’s favorite spell) to mimic a magic missile and sends it streaking off towards the new mage, who hopefully recognizes it. It explodes into a handful of feathers when it strikes his chest and Otto rolls over clapping his hands and laughing.
“But to add a pinch of danger to the mix. We are not alone. A hideous black bird has been watching me. I last spotted him outside the inn we stayed at, clinging to the window jamb. It flew off and has not returned since. I know not whence this bird comes, but I fear we may not be the only ones after this treasure. Now let us get some rest, for tomorrow beckons. So saying Otto prepares for slumber, casting aside any suggestion of keeping watch as nonsense. He is as perceptive of danger in his sleep as waking, he mentions.
Lyssa yawns. "So the rocks are nothing interesting. But we've lost most of our daylight. We may as well stay near here, and do a bit of hunting for dinner." She shows little interest in Otto's tale, but is focused on setting watches.
"What about the danger......"
"Fine then sleep if you will I will be looking for the danger and a blackbird to make a pie out of."
Orsic will take the time to scout out the area making sure not to get too far away since he doesn't know anything about survival skill.
Alajos looks at Otto sternly, "I am honorbound to Muir and her ever present valor. I am no thief. Now if this wizard be evil, then I will come to erradicate it."
As Otto turns away to sleep, "Rest up mage. We will watch your back. Osric, do not wander too far. Those strange beasts may still be about."
Alajos will past the night on watch and sleeping.
" Let me know when you should like to be awake, for I must pray when the morning light comes."
Alajos's attention turns to the mage.
The night passes quitely, although on two occasions you hear the distant crying of a child in the woods, as if mocking your presence.
Morning brings another fine day, although the threat of a storm looks possible as dark clouds are gathering to the North over the Stoneheart Mountains.
Today’s travels are a pleasant change from the previous few days. You even find some fresh blueberries and two of your group down a small deer. You make camp in the open, near a copse of trees, and bask in the
warmth of the late afternoon sun with full bellies and dry clothes. You figure your party is still a days travel from Fairhill.
After everyone is settled and comfortable talk around the fire drifts to thoughts of what may await at this wizards tower, boasts of past deeds and friendly banter...
War: The stout dwarf rests against his pack, slowly running his thumb along the recently sharpened blade of his axe.
"I'm a hopin dat there be orcs. Yeh; me an orcs, we got a speshul understandin see!"
He pats his axe.