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  #16  
Old Aug 7th, 2014, 08:50 PM
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Arthos needed no map to find the lumber camp that Laurel spoke of; he had visited many times in the past delivering all manner of supplies. As he looked over the map, its edges curling slightly from age, his eyes narrowed slightly. The area denoting the Darkmoon Vale spread over the yellowing parchment like a black smear of dried blood. It oozed out toward the circle of Falcon's Hollow like an abberation of cartography. There would be danger there; that was certain.

Anya and Arthos had only ever ventured a dozen trees beyond the forest's edge during their afternoons together. The air beyond seemed to push outward, actively expelling any light that attempted to spill through the thick canopy above. Into the belly of the beast, then. He shivered imperceptibly.

"An unlikely group, indeed, but one I am glad to have stumbled upon. To be honest, I had a suspicion that the path to a cure would lead into the Darkmoon; the thought of following it on my own did not appeal to me."

Arthos looked up at Griff, "Having you around definitely eases my mind. You seem like you can handle yourself in a fight.".

He turned back to Thias, pulling his cloak back over his head. "We may as well stock up on travelling supplies before we head out, as we may be gone for a few days." ...even longer if things turn sour.

"I believe I remember this Milon. We would do well to seek him out, as lady Laurel has suggested. Thank you for your help, Laurel. I am grateful that the flower of hope is being cultivated here in your shop. We will not rest until we have the ingredients you need."

Arthos stood as straight as a crossbow bolt and bowed slightly to the shopkeeper, giving her that wisp of a smile before turning away.

"Well, gents, shall we head to the market? We probably need to procure a couple of horses, as well."

Without waiting for a reply, Arthos walked across the room toward the front door, now rattling on its hinges. He reached for the knob, but stopped short of taking hold of it. "On second thought, where is this back entrance that everyone keeps coming through?"

Last edited by PercyHux; Aug 7th, 2014 at 08:52 PM.
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Old Aug 8th, 2014, 02:07 AM
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Trent reached behind the back shelves and pulled out a pack. It's leather straps were worn from years of use and the buckles had made permanent indentations where they sit. It didn't look all that heavy and Trent seemed quite comfortable with it. "As I'm sure you have guessed, my name is Trent. Trent Harvester. I already have all I need. This won't be my first trip into the wilds and I doubt it will be my last. I have a mule that you may use to carry your gear. She is quite used to heavy loads so don't concern yourself with discomforting her."

Trent thought about the dwarves that used to live in the nearby mountains. He Knowledge History to know something about Ironbloom growing in the dwarven mines = 27remembered reading something about them in one of his fathers books. He had also Knowledge Local to know if the Lumberjacks have found any Rat's Tail Root during their logging runs = 17overheard the lumberjacks talking about many roots they had found in their travels on the job. He searched his memory for anything useful that could be used on their hunt for the ingredients.

Trent noticed Arthos reach to open the front door and moved to stop him. Fortunatly he stopped of his own accord. "Come, the back door is this way. I apologize for leaving you to the rabble, Laurel. But it is best if we leave discreetly, even if not for my benefit." Trent gave a piercing stare to Arthos, who had pushed past the others outside and initially caused the uproar outside. He pulled his cloak over his head, hiding his form once more, and led the others to the door hidden behind the many shelves of products that Laurel keeps.

 
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Old Aug 8th, 2014, 08:29 AM
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Things had gone better than Griff had anticipated. Walking to Laurelís, Griff was hoping for some clues about trying to find the cure and now he had an adventuring party. His relief for having come to Laurelís was immense and shone in his eyes. In his left hand, he clutched the potion that Laurel to his breast. "You know that nothing will stop me from getting these ingredients Laurel, but all the same, I thank you for the gift."

He shook the outstretched hand of the half-elf. In his excitement to be away, it was admittedly a little eager at first, but he toned it back hopefully before he did too much damage. "Thias, you cannot begin to understand how much your help means to me. In fact all of you are a boon to our town, even if you are an apparent myth come to life." He glanced sideways at the Tiefling Trent, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. "I may have to have a word to Roald when we return."

Griff unslung his backpack from his shoulders. It was decidedly newer than the worn in beauty of Trentís; he could count on both hands the times he had had to use it. He stashed the healing potion safely inside, flung the backpack once again over his shoulders. Following the others through the back door he addressed the man known as Arthos. "An adventurer such as yourself may be able to afford a horse, I donít know about the others but Iíll have to hoof it myself."

As he left through the back door, Griff turned to give Laurel a small smile of thanks. Addressing the party once more, "I have spent the last year or so cutting wood for the Consortium and can guide us to the Lumber Camp if need be."

Before he could completely finish his last sentence, he turned back inside, quickly smiled at Laurel and grabbed the map. "This could come in handy!"
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  #19  
Old Aug 8th, 2014, 08:36 AM
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Falcon's Hollow

Searching his memory Trent remembers reading about Ironbloom mushrooms. They are the absolute favorite of dwarves and are readily available in dwarven society as they only grow near rich iron veins and the dwarven culture revolves around mining.

The diets of Five Kings Mountains dwarves consist heavily of Ironbloom mushrooms, mainly because the plants grow naturally in and around dwarven forges. The Protein-rich ironbloom mushrooms bear a slight salty taste but otherwise contain no flavor of their own, making them excellent additions to many dwarven meals.

Dwarven history tells that the Try saying that fast without losing your teeth.Five Kings Mountains dwarves' ancestors originated from the area around Droskar's Crag but abandoned their dwellings long ago after an upheaval in society and decline in skills due to the worship of the dark smith Droskar. The ruins may still exist but none have ventured into the area for centuries.

As for the root called rat's tail he can recall nothing, it is obviously a very rare and little known item.

He is just relating what he knows to the rest of the party as they leave by the back door of the shop when...


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"Haud up thare! haud up!" comes a shout from down the street, "Master Griff! Master Griff!" the whole party turns to the direction of the frantic shouting.
A small and very excited man is waddling up the road as fast as his rather inadequate legs will carry him, in his right hand he is waving something madly in the air.
His wardrobe is impractical and strange, with a completely purple color scheme, streams of paper flapping like butterflies and a pair of wire framed glasses swing wildly from a string around his neck. As he approaches closer you realize that he isn't a man after all, a dwarf, here in Falcon's Hollow, a very excitable dwarf at that it would appear.

"Master Griff" he calls again as he gets closer and again as he reaches the group "Master Griff, Mast... Oh Master Trent, Master Trent." he pants gasping for breath and apparently as confused as everyone else.

"Och thank goodness ah caught ye!" he exclaims, "Ah hud heard fae Roald that ye micht be gaun oan a bawherr adventure Master Griff bit ah hud na idea Master Trent wis gaun alang tae. Ah think mibbie he micht be th' yin ah wid be needing tae blether tae, him bin a gentleman o' some learning his-sel, aye, definitely a learned gentleman is Master Trent."

He pauses for a breath and notices the whole group looking down at him puzzled, "Och dear dear me, ye mist a' be wondering whaur th' fire is, weel tis lik' this yer see, they ca' me Sarsaed Hornbelt, ah hae bin sent tae Falcon's Hollow tae study th' dwarven ruins in th' area. Ah havent bin oot thare masell ye ken, tae dangerous, far tae dangerous, a'm a jimmy o' books ye see, ah dae mah studying fae books, auld books. Anyway's ah wis workin' oan keekin at th' history o' th' auld monastery up at Droskar's Crucible thare, aye, gey interesting, gey interesting indeed, did ye ken fur exam..... " he looks up at the bewildered faces and seems to come to some conclusion.

"Och mah ye dinnae hae time fur this, ye hae tae git gaun ah ken, ah ken it. Weel ah hae this tae gie ye, ah fun it in yin o' th' books ah hae bin translan', transla'd it masell ah did, na idea whit it's bit ah thought if ye teuk it alang ye micht figure oot whit it means, aye, aye. Ah hae na idea whaur ye'r gaun bit ye juist ne'er ken whit ye micht fin'. "


He thrusts a small piece of parchment into Trents hand, "Go, gang oan noo, git yourselves gaun, ye hae important business, git tae hurry. Whin ye git back we wull blether, aye, aye please, ah micht hulp ye, ye micht hulp me. 'N' anythin' ye fin' oan yer journey, trinkets, relics, papers, ah micht be interested in buying thaim ye see. Noo hurry alang, gang 'n' fin' th' cure fur this awfy disease that's killing thae fowk."

With that the strange little man turns around and begins to waddle away still muttering to himself. "Guid luck!" he calls back, "Aye, aye, guid luck indeed!"



 
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  #20  
Old Aug 9th, 2014, 01:28 AM
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Before the strange interruption, Arthos was trying to Knowledge Local on overheard lumberjack tales relating to the Elderwood location (1)+7 = 8 recall if he had ever heard whisper of the Elderwood tree that Laurel had mentioned while he was amongst the workers of the Consortium lumber camp.

"What a queer little fellow." Arthos quietly exclaimed as the dwarf known as Hornbelt scurried off down the path into town. He looked over at the note that Trent was now holding in his clawed hand.

"A riddle, eh? So, what does it mean?" The Dwarven language had not come easy to Arthos. There was a job once in Druma that required the "relocation" of a particular Dwarven artifact. Successful infiltration into the specific chamber that housed the item in question required following a sophisticated series of Gladdringgar runes. Arthos had hired a retired dwarven stonesmith named Dagarkin to teach him the language.

It took six months for Arthos to retain enough of the ancient tongue to be able to find the hidden cavern and complete his task, but it took him another year before Dagarkin was willing to graduate him to "jus guid inneh". He was grateful for Dagarkin's assistance, but the language had started to fade in his mind. It was becoming as rusty as that hunk of metal that turned out to be an ancient dwarven prosthetic leg, and utterly worthless.

"May I?" he asked Trent as he gently took the sheet and studied it, trying to Linguistics Check on the letter to decipher any meaning (8)+6 = 14make sense of the scrawled text.

 
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Old Aug 9th, 2014, 02:41 AM
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Griff was a little surprised when Athos said that the odd Dwarven fellow had given them a riddle, he could barely understand what he had said. "Well I am glad some of you more learned gentlemen understood what that odd fellow had to say. Apart from my name, Trentís name, and the words cure, disease, and Droskarís Crucible, I am afraid I couldnít understand a word he was saying. Was he even speaking the Common tongue?"
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Old Aug 9th, 2014, 04:14 AM
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Thias couldn't help but chuckle at Griff's observation.

“You are not alone. I mean no disrespect, but his accent was thick enough to require an interpreter in itself. And it sounds as if his written word may require a cipher. Be that as it may, it is something that we can examine at length together. This is obviously of some import but it seems to me that the mysteries in the translation will only be solved as we move forward with our duties. It does seem as though we have an honest merchant in Master Hornbelt to either identify or purchase any items we come across. We can be thankful for that”

Thias shuffled with the weight of his pack.

My thanks to you, Trent for the services of your donkey. That will surely aid to speed our pace. Should we take an inventory of what we have or does anyone have suggestions on items necessary for our travels?”

Last edited by LWAGNER; Aug 9th, 2014 at 04:14 AM.
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Old Aug 9th, 2014, 06:02 AM
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Arthos studies the small piece of parchment but is unable to discern anything more than the fact that the writing is in common.
Obviously as Sarsaed translated it he also used his own heavy dialect to record the message.

As the dwarf turns the corner at the end of the street and disappears from view a good opportunity to question him and perhaps learn more about where they are going vanishes with him.

While it may be possible to speak to Roald and learn where the dwarf can be found the delay might be fatal for some of those suffering from the disease.

 

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Old Aug 9th, 2014, 09:58 AM
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Trent stood a little dumbfounded under his cloak. The dwarf was a strange little man, one the tiefling had always had difficulty interacting with in the past. While his attitude and morals were always upstanding, his quirks and mannerisms always put Trent on edge. It wasn't that he didn't like Sarsaed, he just felt uncomfortable around such an excitable creature. "Ur... Thank you." he said as he was handed the parchment. As the dwarf waddled of in as much a rush as he arrived, Trend unfolded the writings that were given to him only to find it was written in such a way as the dwarf talked. Trent put his palm to his forehead as the whole thing was giving him a pain in his head. Thankfully Arthos offered to take a look at the parchment and Trent handed it over willingly.

Trent thought about how they were to proceed. "Well the dwarven mines should be easy to find and so the Ironbloom. The woodcutters should know where the Elder Tree is, with any luck, so by visiting them we should be able to locate the Moss. I think the witch Ulizmilla will be our greatest challenge, both with locating her and getting her to co-operate. Let's see if the lumberjacks know anything about her." Trent moved over to his mule, Petals, and prepared her saddle for the trip ahead. A small rat scurried out from the sleeve of his robe and ran up Petals' back and sat on her head. Trent seemed oblivious to the whole event. "When we get there, I will stay back and let you three do all the talking. Most folk aren't as kind as you and my visage might scare off any useful information." Trent began to lead Petals out from the ally and onto the road.



 
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Old Aug 9th, 2014, 06:53 PM
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On the Road

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Following Trent as he leads Petals onto the road the party leaves Falcon's Hollow without a fuss. They estimate the lumber camp to be about twelve miles away and with Griff walking in his heavy mail they hope to be able to make it to the camp by around ten o'clock. It will mean traveling after dark but after consideration it was decided that since they are traveling a well used road it should be safe to move after dark. It might have been a different story altogether should they have tried moving through the Darkmoon at night.



The road is in very good condition maintained as it is by the Lumber Consortium for its workers. The party is making good time and has easily traveled about a third of the journey to the lumber camp.

Evening is beginning to encroach and the shadows are starting to lengthen, there are a few scattered ruins of old logging huts off to the sides but the loggers have long since moved deeper into the forest, the regrowth has taken hold and you enter a small copse.

A movement catches the eye and you see a small reptilian creature dressed in a robe, first impressions lead you to believe he may be some kind of shaman.



As you draw closer it becomes clear that this was once indeed a kobold shaman, the smell alone is enough to make you question it's health today.
It notices the party standing in the road and begins to shamble in your direction.
Immediately it becomes obvious that this thing long since ceased to be any kind of living creature, it's awkward gait and mindless movement would suggest it is some kind of walking dead.



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Just as you are thinking this is possibly the most disgusting thing you have seen in a long time a small living rat peers out of the creatures empty left eye socket - perhaps the one time companion of the shaman - it sees you and lets out a screech, leaping from the zombie's skull, the two creatures attack without Enemy Initiative: 16hesitation.

Even with its awkward gait the rotting Kobold covers the ground between himself and Griff move J-1:I3easily, Attack roll 1d20+4 (21)slaming into him with the full IDamage 1d6+4 (7)force of its stinking corpse. The much smaller rat although ferocious in its demeanor struggles to keep pace with it's stinking master, screeching loudly it makes a short move I-1:G3dash at the party.




 
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Old Aug 10th, 2014, 02:25 AM
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Trent moved along with the others a little uneasy. Normally he traveled alone. Normally others treated him differently then the three he had found himself with. He supposed it would be an adjustment he would have to get used to. He would be with these individuals for several days, and would likely be spending time with them after they found the cure as well. Other then Laurel, Trent had never thought about friends. He didn't really expect he would have any. But these three seem faithful enough and put their trust in a demon-man with only a few words spoken. He decided that he would do his most to do right by them and keep their trust.

As they traveled to the lumberyard, which was barely a day away, they came across a horrid sight. The doomed kobold and it's rat companion sent a shiver down Trent's spine. Is this a fate that could await me on my day of reckoning. He thought. He backed away from the terrible duo, and move to G7moved to a safer position. He moved his fingers in a familiar fashion and pointed with both his middle and index fingers towards the zombie beast. A shot of arcane force rushed from his hand and Force missile = 3 damagescored the kobold on the arm.

 
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Old Aug 10th, 2014, 04:03 AM
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Now this was more in Griffís wheelhouse. No difficult to understand dwarves, no undecipherable riddles, just an enemy standing in his way and his falchion in his hand to despatch it. Having said that, he wasnít expecting to get hit so hard and so fast in his first combat; the shambling Kobold Zombie definitely took him by surprise. Griff shoved the stinking corpse away from him and took a step back to give himself some room and 1d20+5(16)swung his falchion with all his might

 

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Old Aug 10th, 2014, 04:35 AM
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Trentís force missile knocked the zombie backwards slightly off balance and it lets out an eerie groan.

Griff catches it as it struggles to bring itís awkward body under control and his push causes it to stumble just enough to put some air between the two. Enough air for his sweeping falchion to slice right through the rotting corpse.
There is a foul waft of sweet smelling air and a final groan escapes as the thing slumps to the ground in a heap.
It certainly won't be getting back up and wandering the woods this time around.

 
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Old Aug 10th, 2014, 05:24 AM
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Thias felt reinvigorated by being amongst the green once more. It was the only place he felt truly at peace. Its wind swept branches wrapped him in their solitary embrace and made him shed any thought of sorrow. It mattered not what the season, the birth of spring, the life of summer, the age of fall or the death of winter. It was as life was meant to be.
As usual, man had tried to cut his swath in his attempt in a greed fueled harvest but the green survived. It overcame.
Given enough time their trails would be lost and their mere presence would be a memory.
Someday.

The stench of death assaulted Thias’ sense of smell before he even saw the shambling form of the Kobold or its vile companion. It slammed into Giff with unnatural speed. Blinding anger rapidly directed Thias’ arm to an arrow and in a fluid movement it was nocked, pulled and ready for its deadly delivery. Incantations were cast and a flash of arcane energy from Trent tore through the kobold.
The wound smelled of spoiled meat seared on a brimstone fueled fire.

Griff refused to let the disgusting creature gain any sort of advantage and retaliated to the attack in a vicious and powerful swing. Flesh and gore flew from the impact.

Thias stepped back to stay in front of Trent to give him protection and space to cast any further spells without interruption. His bow swung, tracking the nasty little rodent skittering across the ground trying to flank them. Aiming for its head, he let it 1d20+4(9) fly hoping to pin it to the ground or end its defiling presence.


 

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Old Aug 10th, 2014, 06:36 PM
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Arthos couldn't help but feel like an opportunity was lost as he watched the flamboyantly dressed dwarf turn the corner and disappear. Trent was probably correct, though. The lumberjacks would likely have heard of Ulizmilla, or even have come into contact with her during their work. When one door shuts, break open a window. Arthos thought to himself, a little amused.

The road to the camp stretched out before them; it was a flat swath of hardened earth, packed tight from one side to the other. The party followed the bare tract for a few miles without incident, enjoying the clear air and light conversation. "I'll admit, ser Griff, I had to replay the dwarf's words several times in my head before I could make sense of it. Speaking the dwarven language is often exclusive of understanding dwarfs. The accents can be quite perplexing. In fact..." The thought trailed off as a pungent odor drifted into Athos's nostrils. The smell of death was unmistakable.

Arthos stopped suddenly, scanning the edges of the road for the source of the olfactory assailant. A few yards from path stood the decaying, yet still moving, corpse of a Kobold shaman. His feathered headress was digging into his rotted scalp, bits of flesh and feathers falling to the ground as he shambled toward the party.

Without warning, the creature leapt at Griff, smashing into him with full force. The kobald's undead rat familiar scurried to the north, with designs on Thias and his tasty looking jugular.

Griff swung at the kobald before he could connect, smashing its skull with the blade of his falchion. A spray of black blood covered the once bare dirt of the main road. Arthos reached over shoulder with his left hand and pulled his worn shortbow from his back. Before the last drop of gore from the kobold's shattered head hit the ground, Arthos had notched an arrow from the leather quiver on his back, trained a shot on the decaying rat, and let Attack: (20)+2 = 22 | Damage: 3loose.


 
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