Rogan scoops up his backpack, slings it over his shoulder, then grabs his bow and follows Omen. "From one place of death to another. We really need to go somewhere nice after this..."
After this, Rogan, go ahead and make a Knowledge Geography, Local, or Nature check to see if you recognize these sites and if you can recall where they might be located.
"...Omen is awesome. You are awesome."
*Edit*
Perception Check: 1d20+8=15
DM
Knowledge Nature Check (if applicable): 1d20+5=23
Rogan, you hear the entire conversation between Omen and Laurel.
Further, you happen to be familiar with the story of the elder darkwood, the oldest tree within Darkmoon Wood. It is the most ancient of it's kind and it is said to have been carried as a sapling from the Hissing Jungle and planted here in the distant past by Deirzir, the Eagle of The First Way himself, the druids that once guarded the forest claimed this darkwood to be the root from which all Darkmoon grew. The tree is located about four miles north of the lake within the Wood.
Rogan waits until he and Omen are a fair distance out of Falcon's Hollow before speaking up again.
"I, um, I think I know what tree Laurel was talking about - the oldest tree in the forest? I heard a story once about the Darkmoon and how it began. It's an elven legend, passed down through the druids that once guarded these trees and all they sheltered. They say the Darkmoon itself sprung from a single, ancient tree. According to the legend, this forest that you see before you here would never have come to be had not this tree been brought here as a sapling from the Hissing Jungle by The Eagle of the First Way himself.
I'm not sure as to the location of the witch and the dwarven forges, but if the legend is true then we should find the elder darkwood about half a day's journey or so north of the Lake within the Wood."
"Hrmmm... Yes, that is not too far. Perhaps this Milon will be able to tell us the whereabouts of the forges and Ulizmila as well," the half-orc replies. He hesitates a moment before continuing.
"I do not wish to... hrmmm... tarry long at this," his voice shifts to a tone of disdain and anger, "lumber camp. They do not kill these trees to survive. They murder them for profit. It is... hrmmm... most unnatural." He glances over to the elf, trying to catch his eye under the wide brim of his hat.
"Hrmmm...I do not expect that I will enjoy this."
Rogan tilts his hat back slightly and meets Omen's gaze. "I gather from your conversation with the herbalist that you have been here a time or two before. Are you from around here?"
"Hrmmm... No. I passed through this place once before some months back and paid little heed to those of this pack. I did not know about... hrmmm... the place to which we are headed." He shakes his head as his shoulders slump slightly with sorrow.
"I was born far from here. Hrmmm..." he glances back Rogan's way, "near to the Churlwood actually. I called the Holds of Belkzen home before the Wind and the Waves bore me away from that... hrmmm... unnatural place."
The two of you set off up the north-western road towards the Consortium lumber camp. The journey will take approximately two days travel, but if the weather today is any indication, it should be a relatively pleasant one.
The next two days are uneventful as you travel up the dirt road towards the lumber camp. You find a suitable place to set camp alongside the road where many have stayed before, complete with a few unburned left-over logs for whoever may be next to stay.
You make excellent time and actually arrive late afternoon at the lumber camp:
The Lumber Consortium Camp cuts an ugly scar of stumps into a dense stand of proud darkwood trees. Five sturdy-looking log buildings—seemingly a bunkhouse, meal hall, office, barn, and smithy—stand with numerous wide carts and sleds amid the sawdust-covered clearing.
A pair of loggers trudge up a rough-looking path while carrying axes on their shoulders. Both appear quite tired after having worked throughout the day.
Omen will begin walking purposefully towards the mess, angling his approach (if possible) to bring him near the two tired men. If close enough to speak without yelling to them he'll say...
"Hrmmm... Good afternoon, strong sirs. Another long day's labor behind you?"
Omen will begin walking purposefully towards the mess, angling his approach (if possible) to bring him near the two tired. If close enough to speak without yelling to them he'll say...
"Hrmmm... Good afternoon, strong sirs. Another long day's labor behind you?"
They both continue to trudge up the path as one of them responds with a scruffy voice, "Aye, every day's a day of labor in the Wood here." The man appears strong in back and arm, with shoulder-length dirty-blond hair and a thick beard. Both men are wearing brown-leather vests with no shirt underneath.
"Who might you be, traveler? What brings you so far out here? Has Jarlben decided to hire extra hands? We are barely getting our wages as it is."
For a long moment, Omen's eyes go wide in horror and shock at having been asked if were here to help slaughter these magnificent darkwoods. He soon regains his composure though, shaking his head gently.
"No, no. We have not been hired by this... hrmmm... Jarlben to join your pack. We are looking for a man named Milon. He may be able to help us... hrmmm... heal the Rot in Falcon's Hollow."
"No, no. We have not been hired by this... hrmmm... Jarlben to join your pack. We are looking for a man named Milon. He may be able to help us... hrmmm... heal the Rot in Falcon's Hollow."
The man raises his right eyebrow. "Ah, the Rot. You mean the taint?"
He then looks down at the ground and begins to chuckle. "Milon ain't gonna be able to help with that. He's a bit of an experienced woodsman, sure, but he knows nothin' about no taint. Can't really help you, mate, sorry."
The blond-bearded man turns to the other, nods, and then they begin to continue towards the bunkhouse.
Rogan watches them go with a slight scowl on his face. He mutters: "Wonderful."
"Hrmmm... I see. Then perhaps you might be able to point us in the direction of the old dwarven forges or... hrmmm.. the one called Ulizmila? Directions are all we need. Either to those places... hrmmm... or to Milon. If you could provide either... it would be a great service to the pack of Falcon's Hollow."
"Hrmmm... I see. Then perhaps you might be able to point us in the direction of the old dwarven forges or... hrmmm.. the one called Ulizmila? Directions are all we need. Either to those places... hrmmm... or to Milon. If you could provide either... it would be a great service to the pack of Falcon's Hollow."
The man stops in his tracks and turns towards you. "We can't help you," he smirks.
"Hrmmm... Very well then. When the Rot spreads here, I trust you will sleep well to the sound of your own blood filled coughs before you... hrmmm... return to the earth. Come, friend Rogan, we will find this one called Milon... hrmmm... without the aid of the doomed."
"Hrmmm... Very well then. When the Rot spreads here, I trust you will sleep well to the sound of your own blood filled coughs before you... hrmmm... return to the earth. Come, friend Rogan, we will find this one called Milon... hrmmm... without the aid of the doomed."
The man's smirk turns to one of serious concern. "Hey, wait a second. Do you really think Milon can help you get rid of the taint? I 'spose I could direct you to 'im... After all, we don't need that sickness catchin' up here."
He turns around down the path where the men approached the camp.
"Head down the path about a half mile. He has his own cabin. You can't miss it."
"Hrmmm... Thank you. As long as this one called Milon knows those two locations... hrmmm... then you need not fear the Rot. Rest well."
Omen turns and sets his purposeful steps down the path the blonde man indicated. Over his shoulder and under his breath he shares with Rogan, "Hrmmm... Even a fool has capacity for wisdom is seems. I am glad we did not need to waste time... hrmmm... questioning every logger for Milon's whereabouts."
Omen walks on a bit in silence, looking at the hideous scar the logging camp has carved into the wood.
"Rogan... hrmmm... this place pains me. Let us be as swift with this one called Milon... hrmmm... as possible."
Rogan looks around at the devastation that the camp has caused to the woods surrounding him, then looks to his companion with an expression of concern and understanding.
"It may be small comfort, Omen, but you may take peace in knowing that Gozreh feels your pain as well. And if you like, these wide brims can block more than the sun."
He offers Omen his hat.
"Well done with those men."
The two of you converse as you head down the path and before you know it, you arrive at a humble-looking cabin. Animal furs are hung just outside the door in the sun's rays which beam through an opening in the forest canopy. A pile of timber, freshly cut, lies piled up under an awning, an axe lies up against it after having done it's job with the help of whoever lives within.
A steady stream of smoke pours out into the air from the cabin's chimney, and the windows remain open to allow the fresh air to roll in.
Omen's eyes open wide in shock as he looks at the proffered hat. He looks from the hat to Rogan, his forehead wrinkled with surprised confusion. He glances from one to the other several times before his facial features gradually relax and a wry grin creeps onto his countenance.
"Hrmmm... thank you, but you may keep your hat. It is an... hrmmm... issue of culture. I cannot... hrmmm...," a small chuckle escapes his lips as he obviously struggles to phrase the rest of his statement, "hrmmm... wear such a garment on my head." His soft yellow eyes meet the flecked green of Rogan's, a small light of amusement dancing within.
...
After they arrive at the cabin, Omen will knock loudly on the door frame.
Omen's eyes open wide in shock as he looks at the proffered hat. He looks from the hat to Rogan, his forehead wrinkled with surprised confusion. He glances from one to the other several times before his facial features gradually relax and a wry grin creeps onto his countenance."Hrmmm... thank you, but you may keep your hat. It is an... hrmmm... issue of culture. I cannot... hrmmm...," a small chuckle escapes his lips as he obviously struggles to phrase the rest of his statement, "hrmmm... wear such a garment on my head." His soft yellow eyes meet the flecked green of Rogan's, a small light of amusement dancing within.
...
After they arrive at the cabin, Omen will knock loudly on the door frame.
Several seconds go by with no answer, until the sound of the handle creaks as it turns and the door slowly opens. A human man who appears to be in his thirties wearing a brown tunic with a green leather vest steps into the doorway. He pulls a pipe from his lips and eyes you carefully.
"Who might you be friend half-orc?"
"This one... hrmmm... is called Omen by most," he responds evenly, gesturing to himself with his right hand. He then extends his arm toward Rogan, "That one... hrmmm... is called Rogan by this one."
"We are hoping that we have found the one called Milon Rhoddam."
"This one... hrmmm... is called Omen by most," he responds evenly, gesturing to himself with his right hand. He then extends his arm toward Rogan, "That one... hrmmm... is called Rogan by this one."
"We are hoping that we have found the one called Milon Rhoddam."
The man nods. "I am he." Milon bids you to enter his cabin.
"I must say, I am a little confused as to what you could possibly need of me. I have little to do with anyone outside this camp... no relatives to speak of. If you are inquiring about business with the Consortium, Jarlben is the foreman, and he would be the one to speak with."
"Still," he pauses. "You intentionally sought me out and so I am intrigued."
Milon pulls a wooden chair from a circular table toward the center of the room. "Please have a seat."
As you look around you notice a large, black bearskin rug which fills up much of the small interior. Deer antlers and other miscellaneous items hang on the walls. Within the fireplace hangs a pot which gives off the scent of spices. Water occasionally boils over which causes the flames below to hiss in protest.
"How can assist you men?"
Omen will leave his spear leaning against the exterior wall before entering the cabin, in similar fashion to when he entered Roots and Remedies. After entering, Omen will graciously accept the chair and sit down, leaning forward, his elbows resting just behind his knees.
"Hrmmm... you have heard of the Rot that ravages the pack of Falcon's Hollow, yes? The herbalist there, the one called Laurel, sought my aid... hrmmm... in healing the Rot. This one knows what is needed to heal the Rot, but this one does not know where to find what is needed. The one called Laurel suggested you may know... hrmmm... the whereabouts of the one called Ulizmila or perhaps point us toward old dwarven forges... hrmmm... near Droskar's Crag."
Omen will leave his spear leaning against the exterior wall before entering the cabin, in similar fashion to when he entered Roots and Remedies. After entering, Omen will graciously accept the chair and sit down, leaning forward, his elbows resting just behind his knees.
"Hrmmm... you have heard of the Rot that ravages the pack of Falcon's Hollow, yes? The herbalist there, the one called Laurel, sought my aid... hrmmm... in healing the Rot. This one knows what is needed to heal the Rot, but this one does not know where to find what is needed. The one called Laurel suggested you may know... hrmmm... the whereabouts of the one called Ulizmila or perhaps point us toward old dwarven forges... hrmmm... near Droskar's Crag."
Milon nods at the name of Ulizmila and waits for you to finish.
"Indeed I have heard of this Ulizmila. Although, we haven't seen hide nor hair of the witch in several months. We used to see her occasionally wandering about the forest, but haven't in some time."
Milon pauses and lowers his head. "My nephew is sick with the taint. He's living in the Hollow now. Since you are looking to help the folks there, I have something for you."
Milon stands up and moves over to his bed. He kneels down and then bends over to reach underneath. You heard something slide towards him against the wood floor. As he pulls the object out, you see it is some sort of wood container. He opens it and then fumbles a bit until he turns to reveal a piece of parchment with a depiction of the local area.
"Here. I have no use for this any longer. It was an old hunter's map I used before the Consortium was established."
Before he hands it to you, he takes his seat at the table and then pulls out an inkwell and pen. Dipping it quickly in the well, he marks the map.
"Here's where the dwarven monastery is. Not much else but ruins now.
This is where Ulizmila's hut is. And here's where we used to see Ulizmila collecting shrooms for who knows what. She was out there at least once every few weeks."
"I hope that does a service to you. It's the least I can do you for helpin' my nephew."
"Can you tell us much of this Ulizmila? 'Witch' has a rather broad range of connotations. Does she welcome guests or should we expect her to be hostile?"
DM
"Hrmmm... this is more than this one had hoped to receive. The pack of Falcon's Hollow thanks you, Milon."
Omen then turns to Rogan as they look at the map.
"Are there any hazards or... hrmmm... things unnatural that these ones should know about? This one is not... hrmmm... familiar with the region."
"Can you tell us much of this Ulizmila? 'Witch' has a rather broad range of connotations. Does she welcome guests or should we expect her to be hostile?
"Well, we kept our distance if you get my meanin'. She's an ugly old thing... probably in her late sixties. Always has a scowl on her face and has threatened many of the lumberjacks to stay away from her hut. Always talkin' about some sort of curse or what have you. We've had a 'respectable' agreement with'er. We keep away from her, she stays away from us. I would imagine she'd be pretty hostile."
"Are there any hazards or... hrmmm... things unnatural that these ones should know about? This one is not... hrmmm... familiar with the region."
Milon stands up as you both prepare to depart. "This area is home to several creatures. Razorcrows make their nests in the trees and usually avoid groups of three or more, so you might want to be wary.
Down by the river, you might want to be on the lookout for Giant Moorsnakes. They like to hide near the edge behind rocks and such. There are also Slurk's down there... frogs that produce powerful glue-like substances.
Other than that, you'll just find typical forest critters. Wolves at night, black bears, and oh, Saingrist's Crawlers; angry red and black centipedes as big as a man. Their bites have the sting of fire behind them. Just keep your distance, though, and you'll be fine."
Milon speaks all of this matter-of-factly and without much emphasis.
Rogan straightens after looking at the map. "It would appear that Ulizmila's hut is the closest location. I think we should head there."
He turns to Milon. "Thank you for your assistance, Milon. You are a refreshing compliment to your race."
Retrieving his equipment at the door, Rogan prepares to enter the woods.
Rogan straightens after looking at the map. "It would appear that Ulizmila's hut is the closest location. I think we should head there."
He turns to Milon. "Thank you for your assistance, Milon. You are a refreshing compliment to your race."
Retrieving his equipment at the door, Rogan prepares to enter the woods.
Milon smiles. "I suppose I will take that as a compliment. You are most welcome. I would ask that you make haste in your journey, but I think it is enough to know that you are already doing so."
He follows you to the front door to see you out. "Safe journey. If you have need of anything, do not hesitate to come to my door."
As you depart, Milon gives one final wave and then shuts the door behind you.
Rogan will have his bow in his hands as they head into the woods. He will head directly north, towards the mark Milon made for Ulizmila's possible location.