DM Dancing Wind -- Hooligans At Home (And On The Road)

Game Master Dancing Wind

1. Leaving Elidir:

Elidir, Isger
4719 AR Gozran 8 Monday (20190408)
Dawn

Breakfast smells drifted with the woodsmoke. Resigned curses, impatient animals, and the general dust and disorder of large amounts of humans, halflings, dwarves, and beasts preparing for a day's journey also filled the air. The caravanserai just outside the walls of Elidir bustled through another routine dawn.

A figure watched, leaning against the wheel of a wagon filled with trade goods, supplies, and trinkets. Bort Bargith's Merchant Caravan was well-known along the Conerica Straits trade route, and Bort himself was regarded as a fair and honest purveyor of goods, raw materials, and supplies. Three other cargo wagons filled in the semi-circle between Bort's home-on-wheels and the kitchen wagon at the rear.

The half-orc inspecting the wagons, tugging on tie-downs, checking wheels and axles, was Bort's second-in-command, with whom they had arranged passage after a gregarious Bort agreed to take them as far as Almas. A small gnome scurried up and down the line of six wagons, checking collars and rubbing the shoulders of sturdy draft horses, seemingly conversing with a few of them as she stroked their manes.

Two humans emerge from the gate

"There he is!" Bressaldyn waves at Bort and turns toward his home-on-wheels at the front of the line of wagons. Her curls bounce as she strides toward him, hand on her short sword.

"We're ready!" She swings her pack off her shoulders. "Where should we put our stuff?"

Bort
"I thought I hired five of you. Where are the rest?"

The half-elf detaches herself from the shadow of the wagon. Clad in neutral colors and unadorned leggings and cloak, she had been at her observation post for a good half hour.
"I'm here. And good morning Alihana, Bressaldyn."

"Good morning, Rosalind," the caravan master replies.

"Good morning Rosalind." Turning back to Bort, Bressaldyn says, "Eydis is still saying her prayers, and Kaesera is with her."

Bort notices that Rosalind is studying the half-orc and the gnome thoughtfully. "That's Tamli Ghent, and she's been my lieutenant for the past 8 years. Glunda is with her." Pointing to the other two wagons he says, "Olf and Ulf drive those two wagons."

Gesturing toward the final wagon with an iron fire pit protruding off the back, he says, "You folks can stow your things in the cook wagon. You'll be riding with Cooky, if you want to ride."

A big smile split his immaculately trimmed beard, "But some folks find it more comfortable to walk."

As Tamli barks orders at the teamsters, the wagons begin to move into line. Frowning, Bort says, "When Tamli says we're ready, we're leaving, laggard cleric or no."

Bressaldyn, Alihana, and Rosalind walk over to the cook wagon and stow their packs under the pantry shelves, making sure that there is ready access to the pockets and openings of the packs.

"How long will we be on the road to Almas? This looks like a well-run caravan, but those wagons don't look very comfortable." Alihana sighs, looking around at the wooden wheels sheathed in iron. Bressaldyn silently agrees with her.

The elderly elf holding the reins of the cook wagon team smiles at Rosalind "Rosie! Does your head hurt this morning? That was a lot of dwarven ale you put away last night."

Rosalind grimaces, then replies to the old elf with a string of Elvish syllables.

At the front of the line, Bort's laughing greeting floats through the air as Tamli lifts her arm to order the teamsters to take up the reins. "By Torag's Anvil, you've cut it close, priest!"

A plump halfling rushes through the gate, followed by a teenaged human wearing too many bright scarves and too much jewelry.

"Can't miss breakfast, you know. And the sweet rolls are sooo good"

Kaesera climbs onto the cook wagon with the rest of her friends and Eydis swings up onto the seat by Bort, as he clucks a command to his horses and pulls his caravan out onto the road to Almas.

2. The Road To Almas:

The sun has not yet risen, but the spring morning is bright and the road is clear. Recent rains have been moderate, and the mud of early spring has mostly dried away. The road here is wide enough for two wagons to pass without pulling over, but by midmorning the track has narrowed and there is only easy passage in one direction at a time.

This part of Isger is sparsely populated, consisting of small rural farms and isolated communities. It is a temperate land, with frequent light rains and the rich smell of damp earth wafting on the pleasant breeze. The trail winds its way through the lowlands, passing along streams and through small forests.

Cooky drives the cook wagon with a practiced hand, seemingly unfazed by the jolts and ruts. With the baggage, bedrolls, and supplies, there's really not much place to sit or stand in the wagon itself, so passengers tend to alternate walking and sitting on the ever-shifting pile, switching off regularly to trade one discomfort for the other.

By the time it is fully daylight, Bort has already stopped at one crossroads cluster of homes, dropping off parcels, and collecting a few more bound for Almas. Bort prides himself on having whatever a small community might need, so his stops often involve digging through chests and bundles to fill unexpected requests. Sometimes at the end of the negotiation, he walks back to Cooky's wagon with a bag of supplies, or even a plucked pheasant or other wild fowl, which he has accepted in lieu of coins.

The road seems to aim directly at Droskar's Crag, a prominent landmark at the south end of the Five Kings Mountain range. The smells of recently plowed fields are interspersed with the meadows and abandoned fields of numerous small farms that are burned out or deteriorating from neglect. The Goblinblood Wars are too recent for all the scars to be hidden.

At midday, Tamli calls a halt just after fording a small river, giving Glunda and the other teamsters a chance to unharness their animals and let them graze. Cooky lays out a spread of breads and sausages along with some ale, but soon the caravan is back on the road. The afternoon is only distinguishable from the morning because the sun is now descending in the west. Bort stops several more times, people gather around, jokes are shared, goods and coins exchanged, and the caravan moves on briskly under Tamli's stern gaze.

Late in the afternoon, Bort pulls onto a side road that opens up into a meadow with numerous stone fire rings. "This is as good a place as any, and better than anything we'll see for many more hours," he says.

"How does she do that?" Kaesera watches Glunda walk over to a ring of saplings, all the horses trailing behind her. Glunda reaches up to hitch a rope at intervals around the saplings, forming a temporary corral with the horses contently grazing.

Dinner is simple, but there is pie. "What did you trade for this?" Cooky asks. "A pretty yellow ribbon and a new pie plate," replies Bort.

Tamli looks around the circle of teamsters and passengers. "Short watches tonight," she says. "Olf, you are with Rosalind; Ulf takes watch with Eydis; and Glunda, you work with Alihana. Bressaldyn and I will take the last watch. Two hours, then wake the next pair. Don't be heroes: if something isn't right, wake me immediately."

"Did I ever tell you about the time we got caught by a fire giant?" Bort’s mischievous voice comes from a group seated by the fire ring as Tamli continues, "Kaesera, you can help Cooky clean up and get everything back where it belongs."

"It's clever how she paired each human with someone who can see better in the dark." Rosalind thinks as she looks over at Kaesera, "but I wouldn't put that one on watch either. All drama and pouts."

"On our way to Highhelm..." Bort's voice begins another tale as he finishes his bowl of mushroom stew. "Captured... fire giant... " he continues, "lowered into the kettle... rare plant... spice for soup... 'frostbloom'... took a taste... lips froze together... confusion... escaped." A roar of laughter rises from the campfire.

As Bort's story rises and falls in the background, Kaesera blows a few curls of wood out of the vine spiraling down the length of a wooden flute, and puts the half-finished instrument in her backpack. She brings out a plain one, a burnished and satin-finished rich red wood, testing a few notes.

Ulf and Olf sit down on either side of her. Looking left then right she guessed "You're Olf, right?" and turning, "And you're Ulf". They smile and nod. "Probably", said the one on the left. "Know any shanties?" the one on the right asks. "We were sailors on Lake Encarthan until we nearly drowned when the boat sank in a storm. Barely made it to shore."

"I know a few hornpipes," she says. The group around the campfire turns to watch as Olf and Ulf link elbows and execute some amazingly intricate steps. But soon everyone rolls out their bedding, finding the smoothest and softest spots around the fire ring. Glunda walks over to the corral and, murmuring to the horses, spreads her bedroll under some bushes at the edge.

The night passes quietly, with the comforting sounds of armor buckles and clasps clinking into place and weapons being sheathed and unsheathed as each watch team hands off responsibilities and observations to the next team.

The caravan's routine is well practiced, and passengers easily fall in step. Up just before dawn, on the road after a hot breakfast, stops, stories, ales and tales throughout the day and camp set up while there is still plenty of light for Cooky to produce a hearty meal. The night watch rota goes smoothly, and even with a few alarms, there are no incidents that require rousing Tamli before her shift.

After each trading stop, Bort disappears into his caravan to update his manifests and record the transactions. For many along this route he is the only reliable package service, and more than one family gives him goods to trade with on their behalf, and supply lists to procure for his return trip. Bort's meticulous notes make sure they get what they had requested, along with whatever coins remain from the sale of their crafts and produce.

On the morning of the fourth day, after Eydis finishes her prayers and devotions, and after Alihana closes her spellbook, Bort announces a treat. "We'll be in Etran's Folly by nightfall. There's an inn with comfortable beds for the night."

Kaesera notices Ulf and Olf chuckling, trading knowing glances and subtle nods. "What's up?" she asks. Snickering, one replies, "I'd almost rather sleep on the ground. And the smell! Plaguestone is a pit."

Except for a heavy rainstorm early in the afternoon, the day follows the usual cycle. The rain, however has made the track muddy, and dampened both clothing and enthusiasm. Midafternoon, Bort shouts, "Up ahead is Plaguestone."

"About time," Kaesera grumbles.

3. Wolves:

As Bort speaks, a series of long, mournful howls emanate from the woods on either side of the caravan. Moments later there are cries of panic as a pack of mangy wolves emerge from the forest with teeth bared. Snarling with hunger, and proceeded by a rank, unwashed odor of filthy hounds, the wolves move swiftly towards the wagons.

Eydis, Kaesera, and Rosalind see a wolf spring from the trees on their side of the wagon. Eydis strikes and the wolf crumples, only to struggle back to its feet. Rosalind swings her shortsword, but misses entirely. With a growl and reeking of wet fur and stinking saliva, he lunges toward Rosalind, but the useless attack leaves him panting.

Suddenly Kaesera's voice can be heard. "Not MY friends, you curs! ແຮງບັນດານໃຈທີ່ກ້າຫານ" Kaesera's vibrant shout stirs her friends. "Look at their bones! They are ravenous from hunger!" she says.

Encouraged by Kaesera's enthusiasm, Eydis strikes again with her scimitar. The wolf again collapses, and this time remains still.

On the other side of the wagon, Alihana turns toward the encroaching wolves. "E sida splesa" she says, and a line of sparkling drops of light streaks toward the remaining wolf. The wolf howls in agony as they hit him in the face and he turns menacingly toward Alihana who, with a quick gesture chants, "Ala" as a shimmering silver egg shapes itself around her.

The injured wolf leaps toward Alihana, saliva dripping from its jowls. Its teeth graze her arm, leaving her with only a scratch. Frustrated by its failure to grab its prey, the wolf leans back to power another leap but finds itself hampered by the silver barrier.

Bressaldyn looks at wolf next to Alihana "I don't think so!" She strides behind the wolf and strikes a blow with her shortsword. The wolf collapses and Bressaldyn moves to shield Alihana.

As the wolf crumples at Bressaldyn's feet, a terrifying howl is heard from the woods. The cry is picked up by the remaining wolf and amplified. "Into the wagon, Alihana!" Bressaldyn's voice is urgent and hoarse.

A larger wolf leaps out of the underbrush, dripping green drool. It turns toward Bressaldyn and unleashes a steam of bright green acid from its mouth. With nimble steps, Bressaldyn jumps aside, and the stream of acid cuts a path through the verge, leaving a steaming, dying mass of vegetation in its path. With a snarl, the wolf leaps at Bressaldyn, knocking her to the ground, and locking its jaw around her arm.

Alihana sees the steaming drool of the wolf hit the grass and sizzle it to a brown nothingness. She doesn't need any further encouragement. Turning, she puts a foot onto the spoke of the wagon wheel. It slips, but she grabs the edge and clambers into the bed, crouching behind the thick wooden side panels.

Kaesera's voice rings over the sounds of screaming horses, howling wolves, and shouting humans. "We can do this", she yells.

Hearing the fearsome howl, Eydis shakes off a feeling of dread, turns, and runs behind the wagon to reach the other wolf . "I'm coming! she shouts to Bressaldyn and Kaesera.

Remaining behind, Rosalind carefully scans the underbrush for more wolves. The smell of the wet fur from the mangy carcass meets her nose, but there don't seem to be any other animals lurking in the shade. All the normal twitters and chirps are silent. Nothing is moving.

Satisfied there is no further danger on this side of the road, Rosalind climbs up into the wagon next to Alihana. She steps carefully over the clutter, dropping her shortsword and drawing her bow. Although she has a clear view of the edge of the road, her boot slips as a pack shifts and her arrow flies high over the wolf.

Alihana stands up in the wagon, and with intricate patterns of her fingers, sends a gush of water at the wolf. "હાઇડ્રોલિક દબાણ" she shouts. The water slams the wolf away from Bressaldyn.

Moving toward the wolf, Eydis mutters another prayer and slashes her scimitar across its fur. The wolf turns its head away from Bressaldyn and toward the bloodied blade. As the edge slices open its leg, he howls in pain.

Bressaldyn steps between the wolf and the wagon, blocking its path forward. Swinging her sword high, she brings it down on the wolf's shoulder. As the blade slices through filthy fur, meat, and bone, the wolf collapses with a final moaning howl.

"Good job," Bort hurries back along the line of wagons. Behind him, the screams of the panicked horses die down. He kneels down to look more closely at the jaws of the large wolf, still dripping green ichor. Shaking his head, he pokes at the liquid with a small twig, and watches with concern as it sizzles and burns away.

Bort stands. "Tamli" he shouts. "Bring the healers' kit!" He eyes the blood smearing Bressaldyn's clothing. "Better get that taken care of."

In the wagon, Rosalind reaches for her shortsword on the floorboards. Standing, she notices blood on Alihana's arm. "You might want to get that cleaned up and bandaged," she says as she sheathes the sword. "Those wolves were crawling with vermin."

Alihana climbs down from the wagon as Tamli hurries back with a small chest, "Let me see that," she says as she lifts Bressaldyn's arm. "Cooky, get some water. And you, Alihana, change your gown and let me see your arm. I don't want that dirty sleeve to cover a clean bandage." As Eydis hurries over, Tamli nods toward the chest. "Take what you need. There's a small bag in there if you want to put together your own kit."

Cooky returns with a cask of water and opens the bung to wet some cloth. As Tamli cuts away Bressaldyn's ripped shirt, Eydis looks more closely. "That's pretty bad." She stows her holy symbol in a belt loop and reaches for a damp rag to wipe away the wolf saliva and fur. Opening a small tin, she spreads a finger full of golden unguent across the slash.

Tamli wraps a few turns around Bressaldyn's arm as Eydis hands Alihana a damp cloth. "Here, clean yourself up and I'll put a few patches on you as well," she says.

Olf and Ulf walk up, scratching and moaning. "I'm dying, probably," said the one on the right. "Yeah, we're at death's door," said the one on the left, as he rubbed his forearm. They have a few splatters of blood, but no obvious injuries. They sit on the ground, looking up at Tamli. "What will you do without us?"

She glares at them. "One small slice from your own dagger, and you're dying?! I doubt it. But you do seem to have some fleas. Stay away from the cargo, I don't need those pests getting into everything." After a few minutes, she hands them a twisted wad of paper. "Rub this on your arms; it should get rid of them"

The terrified horses are still skittish, and Cookie's wagon is slewed across the road, one rear wheel deep in the ditch. With Glunda talking softly to them at the front, Ulf and Olf put their shoulders to the rear frame, but nothing moves. The horses are shying and dancing away from the carcasses. "We need some help here," Tamli says.

Alihana tears a small branch from a nearby tree. Probing the mud under the wheels, she finds a rock that is acting as a brake. A few more minutes of digging with hands and stick loosens the rock and allows the wheel to move forward again.

"Fine job you did." Bort is looking at the pile of wolf carcasses. "Let's pull these back into the woods so they don't stink up the road. And dinner tonight will be at The Feedmill. It's on me."

Bort says, "Let's take a few minutes to make sure all the cargo is secure and none of the wagons are damaged." He and Tamli begin an inspection, while Cooky offers mugs of ale to the passengers.

Eydis touches her divine symbol and offers prayers of thanksgiving to Sarenrae, while Alihana looks up the spell that fizzled in her spell book. Confident that she was a victim of circumstance, not stupidity, she closes the book, satisfied. "Let's go check that big wolf," she says to Eydis.

They walk back to the pile of wolf carcasses in the woods where they can be seen chatting, while the occasional spell flares from their fingertips and holy symbol. Alihana kneels, filling a small vial with the green mucus. Shaking their heads, they stroll back to the wagons. "Probably not magic; neither Eydis nor I can find any signs of magical auras."

Shortly thereafter the caravan starts moving south again, on the way to Etran's Folly.