Sachiko speaks to the individuals helping at the wagon, "I know a a woman who may be able to help us with an antidote or antivenom. Her name is Urthula and she lives on the north end of town. I saw her cure an individual at the lotus from a poisioning, she did it free of charge as well".
Sachiko looks proud that she was able to assist the group.
Looking beside me I see the paladin, the well equipted warrior, the half-ork, and the exotic beauty (who looks to be my age). We are approached by three livery'd toughs who appear to covent our teamster's dray horses.
This should prove interesting.
[seeing the injured woman causes me to hop down from the wagon]
"Careful, Miss. Walking on an injured ankle could cause it to worsen. I'm a healer- let me take a look at it."
[begining to open my healer's kit as I go around the trio]
Martaug, Sachiko, Orislav, Kara, and Valdisara
Are these members of the local constabulary or do we recognize them at all?
Oh, you're pretty sure they're not constables. Their armor must have cost a hefty bag of gold, and is probably designed to make their group recognizable, but in this case, they failed.
The man on the right moves towards the team, which is still harnessed in the horse collars. The man who seems to be the leader grips his sword hilt with his right hand, a gesture that is more serious than simply resting his left hand on the pommel. "Step away from the horses, all of you."
Chris & Grumble:
Sachiko instictivley does what she is told and starts to back away, unfortunately her grandfather's spirit does not agree.
"They have no right little Sachi, do no tlet them push you around, they are liars and fools".
Sachiko seems to regain her composure and takes a step forward, "No, we will not step away these horses belong to us!" Sachiko states.
Valdisara steps in front of the others and between the horses and approaching miscreant, her hand near her blade. Narrowing her gaze and speaking with as authoritative voice as she can muster, she states, "I would advise you to look elsewhere for mounts. These are not for the taking. Perhaps one of the other stables in town will have what you need."
...I glance over to Grumblenaught, who wordlessly heads straight for the old man. "...is this your Old Cale, then?"
Grumblenaught, the Corner Pub's that way, about a block upriver and up off the opposite bank. The narrow, wooden footbridges here are two stories above the riverbanks, leading you from rooftop to rooftop. As the two of you cross, you can make out Old Cale on the weathered benches outside the pub, holding court with a few of the local children, most likely telling lurid tales and teaching them ribald songs.
Footbridge Travel:
Landward Travel:
Approaching the enthusiastic younglings that surround the bantering Cale, Grumblenaught settles into an easy crouch and deftly proceeds to carve a small cube of cheese for each of the children. "Here ya be, ya young roustabouts," the dwarf rumbles, with a wink. "Beggin' yer pardons, but might m'tall friend an' meself be able ta borrow a tale from yer entertainer, there? I promise it'll be a good one!"
Stepping down from the wagon, Kara puts on an easy smile that does nothing to lessen the commanding stare in her eyes. "As my companion points out, I would not advise taking these mounts, as we have paid well for them. Perhaps you would like to investigate another stable, instead of resorting to thievery?"
Kara, Martaug, Orislav, Sachiko, Valdisara
The man approaching the horses stops and takes a step back, off-balance by the sight of organized opposition. He actually draws steel, lightning fast. His broadsword's blade is very well-made, with an unfamiliar rune etched in the base, about six inches down from the pommel. It has a blue-green sheen in the sunlight. "How dare you deny --"
The barrel-chested man immediately interrupts him. "Put you that blade away! We need no fights, not here and not now." He returns Valdisara's gaze, but he's still talking to his comrade. "We will attend to our needs in other avenues."
Then he addresses you, his eyes moving from Valdisara to Kara, Martaug, Sachiko, and back. "As for you, mark you this day, wenches. You deny us our wants, and you cause Brach to lose face. We are vain and petty, and we shall never forget this insult."
With that, they move to leave.
()
Orislav, you move over to the injured woman, under the eye of one of the armored men. She's too frantic to allow you to examine her, but a passing glance show an ugly welt on her left ankle, at the base of the fibula. It's probably either a sprain, or a fracture.
Martaug
--+--+--
Grumblenaught, Yalka
The children gleefully snatch the cheese from Grumblenaught and look at Old Cale enthusiastically. The drenched man smiles at the dwarf, and at Yalka. "What would you know, old friend?"
Chris & Grumble:
I'm letting Grumble take the lead with Old Cale, as he's the one who knows him, though if he introduces me, I'll gently bow (or however people greet), state my mother and father and tribe, and act respectful while Grumble gets his grumble on .
Val gives a mental shrug at the man's threat and name-calling, knowing she has been called much worse in her short lifetime. She keeps her gaze fixed on the thugs until she is sure they are departing, then turns to the others. With a nod at Kara, she says,
"Well, that was interesting. Does the deputy have any able-bodied assistants we should perhaps warn of their.. intent to gain other mounts? And you, madam," Valdisara looks intently at the injured woman. "What do you know of those men? Are you involved with them somehow? How did your ankle come to be hurt?"
To the others she adds, "On a different note, I confess I am without funds to cover the harnesses we need for these steeds. What of the rest of you? Do we collectively have the means to arrange for equipment?"
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"Musters are always such a mess when there's no watch to herd people.
"So these musters are a common occurrence? I would have thought a town the size of Carrion Hill would have a dedicated City Watch for such matters, not that I am complaining about being involved mind you. It just seems odd that Deputy Constable Wygate came to the Cold Comfort instead of to the Watch."
Small talk and conversation as we head towards Zosimus's "Hillsage".
The party at the stables
"And you, madam. What do you know of those men? Are you involved with them somehow? How did your ankle come to be hurt?"
You would place the woman in her mid-30's, perhaps with a trace of orc heritage. She's dressed in a simple blue shift and off-white apron. She looks back and forth between Orislav and Valdisara, and sputters a little. "She struck me! That's how it 'came to be hurt'!
"We're not involved with them anyhow! My father runs these stables, and has, ever since, well, for as long as I can remember, that's for sure.
"The Vipers came around last Oathday, claiming that we owed them several hundred gold soveregns. On Oathday! Well, Father told them off, and they left, but Father's been wearing his old guardsman armor all this week. He leaves me in charge when he's away, like today, with the guild meeting and all. And those four came around, demanding that we pay them in horseflesh, and I told them that when my father comes back, he would take care of them! And then the little one, she hit me in the ankle and the big guy said that Father would have to take care of me. And then you came up and told them off.
"Ow! I think it's broken."
Orislav, in that, she's probably right. She should have the ankle set and immobilized until she can see a healer.
Assuming she replies, Val will sense motive to try to determine her truthfulnessSo far as you can determine, she's not trying to hide anything.
On a different note, I confess I am without funds to cover the harnesses we need for these steeds. What of the rest of you? Do we collectively have the means to arrange for equipment?"That won't be necessary," calls out a man in old leather armor, swift approaching despite his limp. His skin is green-tinted, and his sharp underbite tell you something about the woman's heritage. He's gone completely bald, and looks to be almost 60, but still hale. He touches the ground every so often with his cane, but generally seems to have little use for it. "Kordan is a miller, owns the storefront 'cross the ways there. His apprentice, whose name I never got, comes running into the meeting, sayin' that the Vipers'd come 'round. And Freida's not going to be so good with all that. So I came back to see you shoo 'em off. And now you want to pay for harness? Pfah. Wouldn't hear of it. Your money's no good here. If I've got somethin' you can use, it's yours."
Martaug watches the scoundrels head off without saying a word...many drift through his mind, but none escape his lips. When they have headed on their way, he gives a sneer and says "Scum from Razmiran by da accent. Dey probably up here tryin' ta make a name for 'emselves by bullyin' da locals... Somethin' dey can take back ta dere god king fer his affections."
He heaves a sigh and turns his attention back to the task at hand "How much gold we shy?" When the old man of similarly dubious descent offers his goods, Martaug smiles at him "Thank'ee, friend. Know it's goin' ta help the public good and we'll return it to ya if'n we're able."
"Musters are always such a mess when there's no watch to herd people."So these musters are a common occurrence? I would have thought a town the size of Carrion Hill would have a dedicated City Watch for such matters, not that I am complaining about being involved mind you. It just seems odd that Deputy Constable Wygate came to the Cold Comfort instead of to the Watch."
Small talk and conversation as we head towards Zosimus's "Hillsage".
The three guards who are manning the Dark Gate, an archway that demarks the eastern edge of the city magistrate's authority, greet you as you approach; it would appear that the weather on a day like today, cool and breezy, makes everyone a little more pleasant. Not a hundred yards away is a squat tower of ancient stones, the place Gormut Hillsage calls home.
Gormut's tower is surely the ruins of a small military base, whose builders were forgotten long ago. All that remains of it now is the first story, with a southern wall that stretches another 30' skyward, which suggests the dimensions of the tower that once stood here, and which provides shade to Gormut's living quarters.
There's a much newer low wall made out of rough white stones, designating a "yard" of sorts, with a gate and a row of paving stones marking an arcing path from the road to the tower's door. Zosimus, you've been warned to keep horses out of the yard, and to stay on the path.
As you approach the double front doors, they swing wide, more or less of their own accord, and you see a man in his late 40's, slightly heavyset under his olive green robes, with only a wreath of curly black hair, walking out into the sunlight towards you.
Zosimus, you're familiar with Gormut -- last winter, you cast a few Harrow readings for him, on esoteric topics -- and his health has grown worse. His skin is paler, his eyes have lost some of their keenness.
"Proe-phet Zoe-si-moos," he croons, taking care to elucidate all his consonants. "When I saw you lee-ving the city, I was thrilled by the bounty of your coe-ming to vee-sit. How may your humble sair-vant proe-vide for your comforts?"
Zosimus
It's certainly possible to cross into Carrion Hill without going through the gates; they're designed as a check for wagons and road traffic. There are wooded approaches to the city that aren't walled off.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Kara turns back towards the wagon. "Well, that event could have been considerably worse. I am rather glad for their 'cooperation', as it were. I would have hated to draw steel within the town proper. As for money, I have some left."
After the events with what appears to be Frieda's father: "Your kindness is considerable sir. I am continually surprised to find so many of good heart in a town with so many less so endowed. There must be something that I can compensate you with, though."
"Let me see that ankle. I can do a quick splint for you until you can get a real Healer to do a better one."
I'll do a practiced job on her ankle- I've worked on broken bones with some of the acrobat trainees often enough.
The children gleefully snatch the cheese from Grumblenaught and look at Old Cale enthusiastically. The drenched man smiles at the dwarf, and at Yalka. "What would you know, old friend?"
Grumblenaught beams at the gaggle of rag-tag children, then glances up over his shoulder at Yalka. "can't never go wrong with a good chunk o' goat cheese, says I!" He then raises his bushy eyebrows at the tall woman and ol' Cale, gesturing broadly with the cheese in question. "I got plenty more, if'n ye wants some, jes' speak out."
"P'raps ya can tell us 'bout a tale o' the Blackspeare Bandits, wi' particular regard ta where they might gone ta ground 'round here, mebbe," the dwarf says to Old Cale, mumbling around his own mouthful of the pungent treat.
Orislav
I refer you to my comments in the discussion thread.
Yalka, Grumblenaught
Cale narrows his eyes and looks you both over carefully. "The Blackspeares? The were the most successful brigands in all the history of the River Kingdoms --"
"That's the place east of here," pipes up one of the boys, perhaps 10 years old. "It doesn't have a king, or counts, like we do. Insteady, anybody who can claim an' hold land can set 'imself up as a ruler, but for just so long as someone else don't take it from him."
Cale simply stares at the lad, who falls silent, abashed. He turns to another and says, "Stooch, tell the end of the story of Hazard."
Another boy, a few years old, stands. "Well, Watterman used his sword Hazard to defend his valley, and then he retired with his richs and grew old as a, um, as a sheep farmer on the great lake. Then a great cloud of dust came up, and it was horses, and they were ridden by --" the lad's eyes grow wide, astonished, "-- by men carrying black spears. They rode up, and they killed Watterman, and they took nothing but his sword, leaving behind a lot of gold and his winged boots, and some other magical items, but that's another story."
Cale patiently gestures his thanks to the boy, and continues. "They were led by an inner cabal, at least one of whom was a Dwarf, but far more vicious than you'd think a Dwarf capable. I'm thinkin' that one of 'em might have been a priest of sorts, for there's stories of the company turning on any of their own who dared attack servants of the gods. The rumors say they ran a tight ship.
"Nonetheless, they collected considerable takings. The farther away from the Kingdoms you travel, the larger their horde is said to have been, but they actively hunted down powerful weapons, unique magical items, and spell books. Tradition says they bargained with genies and with stranger things from the great deep planes, to create great depositories in sealed-off dimensional spaces, each with its own locked gate, and each with its own key.
"And you're sayin' they been seen 'round here?"
Kara, Valdisara, Orislav, Martaug, Sachiko
Your kindness is considerable sir. I am continually surprised to find so many of good heart in a town with so many less so endowed. There must be something that I can compensate you with, though.
The man looks at you a little askance. "Um, ah, yep. Or, I mean, no, that's fine. Bring 'em back, once you're done with 'em. But watch out; I suspect you've made y'self an enemy there. Best watch yourself; those blades of theirs sport venom."
Sachiko remembers that she'd been talking about a woman named Urthula, who might be willing to help out with some antivenin. She runs off, promising to catch up with the rest of you later.
Chris & Grumble:
Glancing at the children, I add:
"Deputy Win spoke of them. It sounded like he had found an old mine... near tall trees and a lake...?"
Yalka, Grumblenaught
At Yalka's question, the boys each grow more excited than the others. "Buried treasures?!" "I know a cave like that!" "Genies? By the ring, Cale, maybe they'd let you --"
"That's enough!" The pitch of Cale's voice rises with the volume, and steam starts to rise off him. "Stooch, when Great Father Hoten greedily sought to drink up all the wisdom in the world, what happened to him?"
"He died, Master Cale."
"Jacop, when Mother Syv ventured out beyond the safety of her ranch, what became of her?"
"Was she torn apart by the Wailing Wolves, Master Cale?"
"Andolph, what happened after Dhonnar's brother stole gold from the trolls?"
"They attacked all of Dhonnar's family, and only Dhonnar lived through it, and his legs were crushed, Master Cale."
"And what will happen to you, if you venture beyond the safety of the city, get greedy, and steal gold? Are you as clever as Great Father Hoten, as enchanting as Mother Syv, or as strong-in-arms as Dhonnar?"
He leaves that question hanging as he turns back to you two, an edge in his voice. "As I said, the Blackspeares spent their days robbing the people of the River Kingdoms. They had no business here And I'd appreciate you not riling up the children by suggesting they do.."
Chris & Grumble:
"What are you kids doing here anyways? I heard Town-Dwellers lock their children in prisons all day long. You should just enjoy your childhood in this safe village, and eat and train so when you are adults, you will be big and strong warriors. Like me." ;-)
The paladin nods in greeting and in thanks to the older half-orc.
"Your generosity is much appreciated, by all of us. The least we can do is to help your daughter here." At that, Val nods to the cleric. "This man is skilled in the healing arts, he should be able to assist her."
"We are pressed for time, so if you can help us outfit these beasts with proper harnesses, we would be grateful. We leave town within the half-hour. When we return, however, I for one would welcome the chance to assist you with those.. Vipers, I think they were named, whether it be by clearing up your debt to them or.. clarifying.. that no debt is owed."
Nodding at Valdisara's suggestion, and at the stabler's comment, Kara accepts that the man will not be compensated. "Your heart is truly great, sir," Kara says with a smile. "Shall we harness these horses up, then?"
"Call 'emselves Vipers? A slander on da name of venemous reptiles everywhere, I promise ya," Martaug says darkly.
Deserach (and Zosimus)
Zosimus bows politely to your host. "Magister Gormut, may I introduce Deserach, a traveller from Osirion and a fellow scholar."
Gormut turns to Deserach as if this was the first he'd noticed you. His eyes are rheumy, and his smile, distant. "Ah! You do me great honor, Dee-sair-ach. But come, come!" His smile falls away into a dark scowl. "The sun burns high in the sky, and you must be swel-tair-ing."
Gormut turns and walks back into his keep, the smile returned to his voice. "Oh-see-ree-on, you say? Then to-day must make you quite nostalgic."
Any info on lakes in the area?
If by "the area" you mean the county, there are dozens of small lakes, many of which are rain basins, drying up completely during the summers of years with little rain. Others are spring-fed, and drain into the river system through the hills.
Is there anything else you'd like to do here, either with Old Cale or anywhere else, or should we advance you to the blue barn rendezvous spot?
Orislav:
Martaug:
Deserach
What ethnicity is this Magister Gormut, do I know anything about him or his background, where is his accent from? Also he mentioned being nostalgic for home is there a holiday that I am forgetting? I looked in the campaign guide but saw no mention of an Osirian holliday.
You have not met him before. He might be a native to Ursalav, but it's hard to tell. His pale complexion and dilated pupils suggest that he spends most of his time under shelter. His speech affectation is deliberate and obscures whatever native accent he might have; perhaps he has spoken this way for a long while. And you're right; if he's making reference to an Osirian holiday, it is indeed one Deserach has never heard of.
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DM Chris
"Oh-see-ree-on, you say? Then to-day must make you quite nostalgic."
"A day does not pass that I do not fondly remember my homelands."
Thinking to myself I wonder if the man is referring to the supposed "heat of the day".
"Your offer of shelter is much appreciated Magister."
I will then follow Zosimus into the Gormut's home.
Martaug takes the opportunity to talk to the freindly shopkeeper. "Where ya from 'Hugh'? Quite a while back I wuz part of a clan dat stomped 'round north'a da Kestral River, but ya sound like yer from a damn sight fartder north'n that. I unnerstan' if ya just say yer from around, 'mind."
"And you're sayin' they been seen 'round here?"
"Bah. I b'lieve the honorable deputy constable mighta been overcome by poison from them spider bites, an' naught but babblin', if them Blackspeares jes' rousted folk from the River Kingdoms."
Offering a slight shrug, Grumble inclines his head to the storyteller and his young audience. "My friend, I thank ye fer the tale, and you young 'uns fer yer patience. Cale, I'll see to it that I bring ya somethin' back from me next jaunt t'the foothills, like usual... anything ya have a hankerin' for?"
Looking up to Yalka, he grins and pats his crossbow. "We'd best get on our way then. Looks like we'll be goin' spider hunting, my tall friend!"
"Indeed. I prefer when the hunting promises a tasty feast, but the other kind of hunt is unavoidable, sometimes."
As we wind back thru Carrion Hill, I share bits of my experiences camping in caves in the area, mysterious voices and unholy water seeping from the rocks themselves... I'll also see what the Dwarf wants to share, perhaps asking of the most impressive quarry he's taken in this area.
moves over close to where Martaug and Hulzdan are talking
speaks quietly
"Any idea why someone wearing black armor would be watching us from the floor of that smithy? They just rolled back out of sight."
moves over close to where Martaug and Hulzdan are talking
speaks quietly** spoiler omitted **
Orislav, DM Chris
Deserach & Zosimus
As you cross the threshhold, the doors close behind you, pulled inward by some force. (It would impress the uninitiated, but the both of you recognize minor magics like Unseen Servants.)
"Come, follow," Gormut rasps. "I have some-theeng to show you. Pair-haps, good Seer and friend, you could ex-plain some-theeng to me."
Gormut leads the two of you down a hallway, past a small reception room (which may once have been a garrison commander's office) and into a large square room, now converted into an dwoemercraft workroom.
Neither of you has seen anything like this room. There are eight tables lining the walls, each with some sort of alchemical experiment or half-assembled device, and each accompanied with a small side-shelf holding records and lab notes. Lamps above each workstation provide the only light here, except for a single shaft of sunlight from the ceiling. A wrought-iron spiral staircase in the far right corner of the room leads both up to open-air second floor and down to whatever cellars the tower might have.
The air here is cool and musty. Something in here smells of old bacon.
Zosimus, you've known Gormut to be a learned sage, but this experimental equipment is astonishing.
Gormut stops for a moment, considers, and moves to a workbench on the south wall. He carefully unlatches part of the equipment there, and then delicately removes a thin glass disk, 8" across, tinted rusty orange and edged in elaborate-ly inscribed brass.
Zosimus, one of your early guides in the ways of magic talked about a lens such as this, built to hold a permanent detect magic effect.
"Some-theeng has puzzled me these past months. Come, see if you can pro-vide me some so-leu-tions."
He moves to the staircase and slowly climbs out of sight. "Ah!" he calls from the second story, clearly satisfied.
Grumblenaught and Yalka
Kara, Martaug, Orislav, and Valdisara
"Good folk, Sachiko sent me with word that she is bringing something useful, but that she is, um, ... is 'detained' the right word? Things are taking a lot longer than she expected.
"And then she got all scarey and growly for a few seconds, and then she apologized.
"Her instructions were, that I should tell you to go ahead without her, and that she would catch up."
Stowing his wheel of cheese and eating knife for travel, the Dwarf offers the genasi talewright a crooked smile. "Well, we'll prob'ly head north ta check the Rolson place out anyhows, Cale; it seems the wiser choice, since Win did say that the last o' the Blackspeare's was headin' that way... if it turns out true, I reckon ol' Grumble will be tellin' you the story, 'stead of the other way 'round, eh?"
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DM Chris
"You certainly keep yourself busy Magister."
When he stops at the bench to remove the disc I will carefully scrutinize the contraptions at this worktable, probably not noticing his departure until I hear the creak of the wrought iron stairs and his exhalation from above. I will then move to the stairs and ascend to see what awaits there.
Grumblenaught and Yalka
You leave Kurdin's Corner Pub and head back across the river. Halfway to the north gate, you hear rapid footsteps catching up to you. Turning, you see one of the taller boys, a little out of breath with the steepness of the city streets here.
"Master Dwarf, ma'am: wait up!
"My (huff) my name's Stooch, an' I was wonderin', whether you had, well, that is, if maybe I could, um, join you, I guess."
Deserach and Zosimus
Climbing up after Gormut, you see that the "roof" of the place is an amateurish attempt to spread pitch and then rushes across the floor of what used to be a complex floorplan. All that remains of that now is a low pattern of the remains of interior walls, and a large masonry panel curving along the south side of the tower, jutting up 25 feet beyond the rest of the structure.
At the eastern edge, facing back towards Carrion Hill, Gormut uses both hands to hold the glass plate up in front of him, taking care to handle it by the metal rim. "Look here," he beckons.
At first, looking through the lens, you see nothing but the city, sloping high on its mound, slightly magnified and through an orange tint. Gormut adjusts the tilt of the lens. "Do you see them now?" Again, he adjusts the lens, and a third time.
And then you can make out two milky trails. There are two small transparent forms, perhaps the size of dwarves, moving slowly in and out of the mound. They move carefully and methodically, as if they were looking for something. Each leaves behind a white trail, which fades after about 50 feet. Other than that, you can't make out any distinguishing features at this distance, not even their clothes.
"Aye," says Gormut. "I noticed them some weeks ago, by aic-cee-dent. Often, they are not there. Other times, there is one, sometimes two. Ee-thee-ree-ahl, I believe."
Zosimus
Deserach
Chris & Grumble:
Turning back to the kid, I say: "Why don't we stop by the Cold Comfort Inn. You're probably bored of hearing Cale's same old stories, but Jolem and Deputy Win should still be there, and Jolem could probably put you to work a bit. The Deputy might have some stories too, though they may scare you off messing with cold-blooded killers."
Satisfied that his daughter's ankle is taken care of, the paladin assists "Hugh" as best she is able in outfitting the wagon team. As the young girl passes on the message about Sachiko, Valdisara merely nods at the information.
"I am sorry, but I have nothing to offer you for your service except my thanks." She bites her tongue to refrain from adding some unwanted advice about choosing appropriate clothes - not to mention profession - to the girl, instead merely frowning and turning back to her task.
Once the horses are ready, she turns to the others and says merely, "Anything else before we leave? Time is wasting."