Game Thread Part 1: An Elusive Antidote - Page 3

Zany · #31 Aug 10th, 2014, 07:46 PM

Even as the muffled thump of the rotting kobold flesh hitting the ground reaches his ears the ranger is nocking an arrow to his bowstring. As he draws the shaft and takes a bead on the scurrying bundle of fur his instinct to protect the wizard causes his aim to falter slightly and though he manages to place himself between the Tiefling and the screeching assailant his missile misses it’s mark.

Off to his left Arthos has time to appreciate the quick reactions of the big warrior as he cleaves the walking maggot farm almost in two. Instinctually he is already drawing an arrow of his own even as Thias’s shot whumps into the soft earth to the side of the brown blur. There is little time to aim and adrenalin alone provides the guide for his shot but adrenalin can be a powerful ally at times and the shot pierces the rats hindquarters causing the screeching to increase in pitch as the force rolls the rat sideways from its determined trajectory.

Badly injured and squealing the drive to survive overrides the rats ferocity of attack and dragging the arrow behind, it attempts to Move G3-E3crawl off into the nearby undergrowth.

Solid Minotaur · #32 Aug 10th, 2014, 09:56 PM

As the battle unfolded around Trent, he began to appreciate the skills of his allies. He hadn't fought amongst others before, only against. Their talent in combat was quite impressive. Griff's ability to cleave a kobold in two as he would a tree was rather formidable. Arthos's aim was true, and although Thais missed his mark, his willingness to step in front of Trent and block the rodents path to him was the most valiant action that Trent could see.

Speaking of which, the rat still posed a threat. While the creature was scurrying off into the shrub, and would likely not attack the party any longer, it is obviously deranged and could attack the next wonderer to come down the heavily used road. Trent changed the formation of his fingers and uttered a few delicate arcane words. Pointing at the rat, a blast of cold shot forth and streamed towards the feral creature that stumbled as it tried to drag the arrow now lodged in it's hide. The blast Ray of Frost 18 vs Touch AC, 3 damageconnected with the rat and ice began to form around it's tiny limbs. It perhaps would have slumped to the ground but with it's stiffened legs it simply stopped moving.

"Well that was rather odd. I wonder how this creature became undead. Very rare without a necromancer involved. But the rat remained loyal." Trent seemed to be talking to himself more then the others. He moved over to the cleft halves of the kobold Sharman. Without hesitation he began to dig through the horrid remains of the foul creature and Search = 21, Knowledge Arcane to know how it was reanimated = 12searched for any clues to it's reanimation, as well as any loot that may be contained within it's pockets. Trent's companion, the rat Nail, moved along side him and began sniffing the rotting corpse, perhaps looking for a tasty nugget of flesh to feast on. Fearing that Nail might become a rabid atrocity like the kobolds former ally, Trent gently pushed the rat away from the body and lifted him up to his shoulder so that he could get a better look, but not a taste. After the foul act was completed, Trent went over to Petals and removed some soap and his water skin and washed away the filth that stained his hands. He reached into his pack and retrieved a travel biscuit, breaking off a piece for his rodent friend so that he wouldn't be disappointed in the lack of a meal. To steal away any chance of jealousy, a carrot was also produced and given to Petals for her calm in the face of danger.

Tearing himself away from the oddity, Trent rested his eyes upon Griff. While his swing was mighty, his defense lacked the same quality. "Are you OK there big guy? You took quite the hit. Can you continue?" Trent felt a bit useless. He trained himself in protecting only himself. He had only thought of attacking spells and those that surround himself in protective force. He had never thought of the possibility of using magic to defend others. Perhaps this is something he should work towards. If he were to spend more time amongst the company of others it seemed only natural to learn spells to guard them. He made a mental note to research abjuration magic once they completed their task.

Zany · #33 Aug 10th, 2014, 10:35 PM

Trent’s blast freezes the rat in its tracks, literally.
His study of the kobold corpse fails to reveal anything about how it had become re-animated but he does find a badly damaged scroll. It appears that the rotting corpse has seeped bodily fluids onto the parchment and caused considerable degradation. The writing is still legible for the most part however.

PercyHux · #34 Aug 11th, 2014, 12:05 AM

As he watched the Tiefling rifle through the dead kobold's innards, Arthos choked back his breakfast of salted jerky and stale bread. He generally was not weak of stomach, but when Trent produced the rolled bloody scroll, his stomach started to percolate like the warm coffee he had also had with his morning meal. After he regained his gastro-intestinal composure, he forced a smile to hide the momentary bout of nausea.

"Well played, everyone! I expected a fight at some point in our journey, just not this soon. I wonder what brought this foul creature this close to town." He scanned the group quickly, looking for any wounds that required immediate attention. Griff looked a little worse for wear, but Arthos gathered that the hulking man was far from the end of his rope. The rogue pulled his backpack from his shoulders and set it down on the ground; he rifled through it until he produced a tanned leather waterskin that sloshed with liquid. He offered it to Griff with a smile, "I can't do anything for your wounds, but perhaps this will still help. It's not ale, but it will quench your thirst nonetheless."

Arthos side-stepped the mangled mess that Trent was so intently studying and approached the skewered rat near the bushes. He reached down to retrieve his spent arrow, but saw that head had broken loose as it punctured the rodent's hindquarters. "Drat," he cursed to himself. Well, at least it found its mark.

He kicked the rat with frustration and it landed in the shrubbery on the side of the road with a soft rustle. As Arthos turned back to the group, they were looking at him mild bewilderment. He shrugged and walked back toward the group.

The sky above had begun to grow dim and the sounds of the coming evening could be heard on the light breeze that had picked up. In the distance, a wolf's lonely call echoed across the plain, sending shivers through the affable pony that was munching on the carrot Trent had produced from his satchel. "Not to state the obvious, lads, but it's getting dark quickly. We are probably another few hours from the camp, should we press on, or make camp for the night? If we decide on the latter, perhaps we can find a clear site a little ways upwind."

LWAGNER · #35 Aug 11th, 2014, 12:59 AM

“A fine shot Arthos! My apologies for my misplaced shot. Thankfully you were here to make up for my short comings.” Thias retrieved his arrow from the ground, completely disgusted with his performance in the troupe’s first engagement. Someone could be hurt or killed if he did not hold his weight. And if they failed, the contagion would spread through Falcon’s Hollow unabated. Perhaps even beyond.

Trent’s skills were truly impressive and Thias watched as he rifled through the ichor of the kobold’s decrepit flesh and tattered clothes. “Did you find anything of merit Trent?”

Griff’s abilities was no surprise. That giant could give as good as he took. The now unmoving corpse of the Kobold was evidence of that. “Griff do you have any wounds that need attending?”

“Arthos is correct we are losing light. I am not sure that this is the safest place to set camp however. It has been my experience that when there is one undead there may possibly be more. As the old saying goes “there is more than one corpse in a graveyard." My vote is to find a place a bit more defensible.”

Berzerkersaurus · #36 Aug 11th, 2014, 07:49 AM

A savage sense of elation filled Griff, he had never felt anything like it in the practice bouts he had with Roald, or even the odd round of fisticuffs he had with aggressive, drunken patrons at the Sitting Duck. He had taken everything an enemy could quite literally throw at him, shrugged it off and in response slashed his falchion all the way through his opponent. His first thought would be at how proud Roald would be when he got to tell him the tale. The second thought immediately following that one was one of guilt that he first thought of Roald and not his actual father.

He was brought back to reality by the questioning concerns of his adventuring mates. He mechanically took the proffered waterskin from Arthos and offered his thanks in return. As he took a swig, his mind finally took in what the others had said. Griff returned the waterskin to Arthos and gingerly probed at his ribs. The wince he emitted came out before he could stop it but rather than try hide it in an attempt to look tough, Griff accepted it. The three heads that turned towards him at the sound definitely ensured that they all heard it.

"I will be honest, I have definitely felt better. That Zombie… Kobold… whatever it was, certainly got me good. But I gave better than I got and that’s all a warrior can ask for. I too am with Arthos, let us get going. My wounds can wait, a safer campsite is more important at this stage. The Darkmoon is no place to camp at the best of times, let alone if there are zombie-kobold-shamans-things wandering about."

Zany · #37 Aug 11th, 2014, 09:49 AM

After gathering their equipment, and in the case of Griff cleaning it carefully, the party decided that it was probably not a good idea to spend the night where they were. After all they were only about four hours from the lumber camp and four hours of everyone alert and awake even in the dark was always going to be better than an entire night with most of them asleep.

As the darkness descended torches were lit and hoods drawn up against the chill. The road continued to be clear and very easy to follow so progress was surprisingly swift. Very soon they could see the lights of a small settlement and undoubtedly the small settlement could see their torches approaching.
The sight was a welcome one, for some more than others, the journey had taken it's toll on Griff and he was weary and sore from his wounds and the prospect of a warm bed and a good nights sleep drove every step he took.
The rest of the party remained alert but quiet after their rather unexpected encounter with the Kobold and his pet rat.

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.

Arriving so late in the evening and after dark too the party are not received well. A small group of burly loggers meets them at the edge of the camp and they don't look like they have brought tea and biscuits for their new guests.

The biggest of the bunch steps forward and demands to know their business, in a high pitched squeaky voice, which although might seem amusing in any other situation simply adds to his menace here on the dark edge of the forest.
The party apologizes for the late hour and explains their reasons for arriving under such conditions, they then ask if they can speak to Milon Rhoddam and that elicits a laugh from the big man which is strangely reminiscent of a rat with an arrow in its rear.

"Milon!" he exclaims, "Dunna know why yers think 'es like to 'elp yers! Any'ows, yers wonna be talkin' ta 'im toneet, 'es got to be up pure early to cook me breakfest 'as Milon. Ma bet, 'es well inter 'es sheep countin by now an' unless yer meen'n to interfere wi'v a man's breakfest I'd be suggestin' yers be leavin 'im 'at way."

He pauses for a moment, obviously thinking, a prospect which gives rise to no small degree of amazement.

"Ah can take yers awl to see camp foreman if yers like an' yers can discuss it wiv 'im but like as not 'es not gonna be to 'appy to see yers ugly mugs at this time o th' night. Otherwise yers can jist bugger awf back inta th' woods whar yers came fram!"

The welcoming might not be the warmest the party has ever experienced, a long way from bunting and confetti that's for sure but the prospect of spending the night sleeping on the forest floor is not a popular one, without discussion it was agreed they should try speaking to this foreman.
The big fella grunted at their decision and turned and barged his way through the other gathered loggers, with nothing else to go by the party followed behind.

They were led to a small door which the big man just walked through without bothering to knock, inside they found themselves in a filthy office, thickly decorated with taxidermies of fierce forest animals. All the beady glass eyes staring down at them were not at all re-assuring. In the center of the room sat a huge desk littered with what could only be described as rubbish, poking out from under the refuse was a small wooden block with a brass plate attached inscribed with the name Jarlben Trookshavits.
Behind the desk sat, what the party assumed was, Jarlben himself, a hugely obese man who quite obviously had little use for personal hygiene or decorum. He simply looked the group over looking nothing less than surly and cantankerous, the big man who brought them here stood off to the right a hug grin on his face, this was probably the most entertainment he'd had for a long time.

"An' who the hell might you lot be!?" was the warm greeting offered.

PercyHux · #38 Aug 11th, 2014, 10:21 AM

Arthos recognized the man behind the large cluttered desk. The foreman looked about 20 pounds larger than the last time he had seen him, and exponentially filthier. There didn't seem to be the same flicker of recognition in those beady eyes of his, so Arthos decided to turn up the charm.

He took a step forward with a huge smile on his tired face, his eyes sparkled with Bluff Check to convice the Foreman we know each other : (20)+9=29faux enthusiasm, "Jarlben, you old coot; aren't you a sight for sore eyes! It has been a elf's age since we last saw each other. How are you? You look like you've lost weight; fit as a fiddle, I'd say. We are looking to speak with old Milon, m'boy; and a good nights rest wouldn't hurt, either."

He took another step toward the desk, arms outstretched ready for what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable hug.

The man that that had showed them to the cabin, stood mouth agape, waiting for his boss's reaction. The rest of the party seemed just as shocked. Griff slowly reached for his falchion, as if he expected the room to burst into violence in the near future.

Zany · #39 Aug 11th, 2014, 06:53 PM

Jarlben stood stock still for a few moments after Arthos pushed forward and greeted him, not so much a lack of recognition but more of a stunned fish kind of pause.

“Errrm,” he muttered even as he was pushing his chair back and rising to his feet, a none to pleasant a sight to behold. Moving around the side of the wooden supported refuse pile he raised his own arms to meet Arthos’ hug.

“I do recall you now, Argos right? you brought supplies here a few times, always good enough to slip an extra bottle of brandy in the order for old Jarlben.”

He embraces Arthos and the rest of the party grimace as the slender half-elf is engulfed by several hundred pounds of dirty blubber. Suddenly Trent ferreting through the decaying corpse of the zombie doesn’t seem quite so brave in comparison.
Even the big man who had escorted them pulled a face contorted between disgust and disbelief and averted his eyes at the moment of contact.

Stepping back Jarlben showed his big, almost toothless grin and exhaled, Arthos almost staggered backwards but managed to keep his composure and balance in the face of the chemical assault.

“So Argos, what cha doing wandering around the woods at this time o’ the night, we wasn’t expctin’ no delivery was we? You just droppin’ by to bring me another of those fine brandies a always enjoys?”

He moved back around behind the desk hunting for the poor chair whose lot in life it was to support his enormous bulk until the end of its days, which, by the looks of the stuffing escaping from its seat and back and the one arm hanging displaced at a precarious angle, wasn't for much longer. The floorboards creaked as he tested them and a few small piles of junk managed to escape their fate and slid from the desk to the floor.
Jarlben didn’t so much sit in the poor chair as hurl himself downwards in a move which seemed entirely unfair to the chair but also somewhat dangerous. A huge cloud of dust billowed up into the air, several papers lifted off from the desk and made a run for it and a large lump of stuffing flew past Arthos’ left ear and hit Thias in the arm.

Out of breath from what was probably the most exercise the man had seen in a long time he panted up at Arthos and breathlessly managed to say “So...whatr.....yous be.....wantin from old....Jarlben? Milon is it you’re wantin to see? Milon?” he casts a sideways glance at the big guy standing over in the corner and they seem to share some personal joke.

“Ah told em they wudna be talkin to no Milon tonight boss, he’ll be tucked up wiv is teddy bear be now.” The squeaky voice inserts.

Jarlben laughs and when Jarlben laughs all of Jarlben laughs, the whole huge mass judders up and down.
"You want to speak to Milon do you?" he eventually manages to blurt out, "Well let me tell you about Milon hey!"
He glances over at the big man once more as if he needs the reassurance that he’s still there or something.

"You see Milon used to be one of the best woodsmen the consortium had, ended up runnin' this place he did. Ah yep, he did that, but not any more you see, got im'sel a case of consciousness did our Milon, couldn't bear seein' all them trees we was cuttin' down. Aye a right bad case of consciousness. Anyway's long and short o' it, he stepped aside and I took over and our Milon took to cooking our grub right. So while Milon might be the one you want ta see I have twenty men due on shift in the mornin' and they will all be wantin' their breakfast see! Not to mention old Jarlen 'imself and let me ask you sumthin'"

He grabs a huge chunk of his formidable gut and wobbles it up and down vigorously, "Do I strike you as a man who likes to miss 'is breafast?!
Nah you'll not be waking our precious Milon tonight, not if'n yar all plannin' on walking out of here unaided that is."

He grins and his remaining yellow, rotting teeth look like an aged corn husk.

“That’s not from me mind Argos, not me threatenin ya but the twenty hungry lads wont banter no words with ya I can tell yer that much.”

******

It doesn't look like you're going to get to speak to Milon tonight but then even if you did would it make a difference? Walking the road in the dark was one thing but wandering around in the Darkmoon after dark would be nothing short of suicidal. Perhaps this Jarlben bloke might have somewhere for you to rest for the night and you could speak to Milon first thing.

LWAGNER · #40 Aug 12th, 2014, 01:26 AM

Thias felt very uneasy about their reception to the logging camp. While he was confident in the company’s ability to defend itself given the current odds, he was fairly certain that with the slightest whisper of an alarm they would be overrun in seconds.

There was an air of corruption that permeated the area. A sense of venality. It wasn’t just the exploitation of the land either. He had felt it blanketing the hollow as well. If the men in this camp found such resolution, there would be four corpses fertilizing the roots in a grove. Based on the circumstances there would be no suspect to think of, nor suspicion other than they had failed in their mission.

Thias’ hand drifted under his ruana and rested on the hilt of his dagger. Even this provided no thoughts of confidence. He stood close to Trent in case there were…”racial tensions”. Not that the tiefling would need the assistance.

Arthos’ silver tongue had diffused the initial welcoming. Thias was fairly certain the grey man could sell boots to a mermaid. The troupe was ushered to the Yard boss, a bloated, gluttonous pile of offal named Jarlben. He smelled like curdled milk, rotten fish and a copious amount of sweat. His girth was so extreme, everything before, around or behind him was an obstacle.

Thias listened as “Argos” sold himself as the familiar “friend “ to the company men. Their guard was down. Even the veiled threats were weak and humorous. It was plain they would not see this Milon before daybreak. That was certain. Thias held his tongue and let Arthos run the conversation. He would only complicate matters.

Solid Minotaur · #41 Aug 12th, 2014, 02:32 AM

Trent pulled out the bloody parchment from the remains of the kobold. After wiping away most of the disgusting fluids, he found it to be a scroll of sorts. This could come in handy, he thought to himself. He reached into Petals' saddle bag and pulled out an old piece of cloth. In an effort to preserve the parchment, as well as preventing the gore from spreading, he wrapped it carefully and placed it into an empty pocket of the pack saddle.

The others were correct that it was unwise to remain here in the forest after dark and they should continue on to the lumberyard. Enough time was wasted on the filthy creature and it's pet so it was time to move on.

As they approached the lumberyard, Trent grew nervous. While the others were comfortable with his appearance, the lumberjacks might not be. In fact, most of them are the ones that start the rumors about him. He pulled his cloak further over his head in an effort to hide his face. As they were stopped by the large man, almost as large as Griff, Trent remained at the back of the party, head bowed. He followed the others as they were lead through the camp and to the tiny office that contained Jarlben Trookshavits, a man who smelled worse then any undead kobold. Once again, Trent remained at the back with his hood around his face, trying not to draw attention to himself.

As Jarlben moved in to embrace Arthos, Trents face contorted in disgust, not that it could be seen. Arthos was a braver man then Trent was. Diving into the innards of a dead creature was one thing, but trusting the grip of a living one who smells as bad as the dead was quite another. Trent made a mental note to ensure he wouldn't go near Arthos again until he bathed. Trent listened to the yard boss waffle on about his rise to power and how Milon was now nothing but a kitchen hand. He began to dislike this Jarlben fellow, and not only because of his hygiene. There was something twisted about his attitude that seems to also spread to those that works for him. Trent made a second mental note, to end Jarlben's reign if given them chance.

Berzerkersaurus · #42 Aug 12th, 2014, 05:05 AM

While Griff hadn’t spent any time in this lumber camp, he knew its type. It was the same everywhere along the edge of the Darkmoon; ruled over by lazy and good-for-nothing bullies who relied on fear to keep workers in line. Scum like Thuldrin Kreed attracted individuals of a like nature and it was no wonder that this Jarlben and the squeaky voiced brute who stood at his side had made their way to the top of the camp. Every minute they were given the ring-around by this scum, was a minute Griff could be searching for the cure to help his mother; it took everything he had not to draw his falchion and cut them all down where they stood.

But thankfully Griff was at least smart enough to realise that wouldn’t get them anywhere. He also didn’t want to run the risk of being identified by anyone in the camp so he joined Thias and Trent towards the back of the room. Arthos seemed, at the very least, willing and more than capable of convincing the foreman that they should be there. So in turn, Griff was willing to let him take one for the team. After that hug between Arthos and Jarlben, Griff wasn’t sure if all of the soap that Trent brought with him could make Arthos clean again.

PercyHux · #43 Aug 12th, 2014, 01:51 PM

Arthos could hardly believe that his gambit had worked. He let out an imperceptible sigh, as he released the breath he had been holding as the behemoth of a man had embraced him. The smell of sour milk and sweat still wafted in the air between to the two men, almost visible. He remembered with horror that he didn't have any more soap in his pack, and doubted there was a bar to be spared in this camp full of rough and tumble lumberjacks. Perhaps one of his new teammates could spare some; it was doubtful that they wanted his newfound aroma as a travel companion, either.

Riding the wave of deceit a little farther, Arthos said, "Well, my friends and I would not want to disrupt the routine of camp any more than we may have. It is not imperative that we speak with Milon this evening. Perhaps after a good nights rest, we can partake in this reknown breakfast of his and talk with him afterwards." Jarlben's twisted expression slackened just a bit as he realized he would not have to exert himself with physical violence tonight. Clearly relieved that the newcomers would not give him any trouble, a true smile spread across his visage like the butter on the likely enormous pancakes he would devour in the morning.

"I had a bottle of the best imported Avistani wine that I was bringing to you, old friend, but we were attacked on the road by the undead and sadly it was shattered. All is not lost, however; I am receiving a small shipment of the same sweet nectar in a fortnight, so I will be sure to send a few bottles your way after we have returned from our journey."

Arthos could hear the high-voiced thug wheezing softly in the corner as the room fell silent once again. The desk beneath the heaps of trash groaned quietly as Jarlben shifted his formidable weight against its edge.

"Have you a comfortable spot where we can rest our weary bodies for the night, good friend?" He made a point to stress the last word, to bolster his bluff against any growing suspicions. "Preferably one with a basin of water; the stench of the undead still clings to me like sap to an axe."

Zany · #44 Aug 12th, 2014, 08:20 PM

Jarlben slammed his palm down on the only bit of the desk which was visible, the loud crack caused hearts to jump and tested nerves to their limits. The big rat faced man in the corner almost leapt off the floor at this sudden change in tone.

Ferny they called him, on account of his last name being Gully, they sometimes joked that his mind was like a Gully and then they laughed, not for long though and not twice. He had never understood what they meant himself but the laughing he understood well enough. Boss frightened him, not much else did but the large stinking mass that called his orders kept him on edge, always.

Right now Boss frightened him most, the atmosphere in this small space was thick, the big one had twitched, just a little and just his hand, but one glance at the huge sword rising over his shoulder and even Ferny could guess where it had been going. The others didn't even twitch though and that worried him more, one seemed to almost vanish into the back of the room without actually moving, the other two just stood, not even flinching. He might have Boss man here and there may be twenty or so cutters outside to put this lot down but his cumbrous mind figured that it probably wouldn't do him much good by the time they got here.

“This is not some stinking INN!” the Boss man yelled, “Some wayhouse for vagabonds and VERMIN!”

There would be trouble now, Ferny knew it, and here he had placed himself at the back in the corner with nowhere to run.

The Boss stopped dead, not that he was moving before but when there was so much of a person as there was with Boss man they seemed to be moving constantly somehow, now he stopped though, and there was silence.

“Avistani wine, did you say Argos.......my friend, my dear old friend.” That was what frightened Ferny most, the Boss’s anger seemed to move faster than his thoughts, striking one minute replaced by sweetness the next. Both his anger and his mind moved faster than the huge bulking body of course but Boss was unpredictable and that was scary.

“Well it just so happens,” Jarlben continued, “we have a party of cutters away just now, went deep they did, ‘aven’t come back yet.
How many are ya?” he asked and tilts his head to one side to peer around Arthos, “Three then?”
His brow furrows and he looks confused for a second or two, “No four, almost missed the lil’ lad at the back there.

Breakfast too.” He muses and a sly grin crosses his moonlike face.
“Ok then Argos, as I say we ‘ave a gang out in the woods still, best o’ luck to ‘em I say. So we have four cots for ya, only for th’ night mind. Ferny here ‘ll show you the way. Breakfast is at eight, don’t be late mind, they dunna leave much for the dogs around 'ere.”

He makes a show of shuffling some papers on his desk, a ludicrous thing considering the chaos mounded on its surface.
“Now if yers dunna mind I ‘ave a lot of work to be doin’. Get yourself a good nights sleep and remember eight for breakfast and not a minute later.”

With that Ferny takes his queue and moves towards the door a little of his bolshiness from earlier having fled with his embarrassment of having jumped.
He takes the party across the yard to a small shed at the end of the other buildings, it’s nothing special but it is private, and it is indoors. The sounds of the dark forest brooding in the background makes any kind of indoors seem welcome by comparison.

“’ll be leavin’ ya then, remember breakfast at eight, dunna come early neether, Milon dunna like it if’n yer’s early. Oh an’ if yer still be wantin’ that wash yer mention’d,” he glances at Arthos and actually shudders, “Yer can use the stream o’er yonder, there’ll be no ‘ot water this time o’ the night.”

With that final squeak he wanders away muttering and chuckling to himself.

Solid Minotaur · #45 Aug 12th, 2014, 10:57 PM

Trent was relieved to be out of that stinking mess they called an office. He remembered his fathers office and how neat and tidy he kept it. He would always say that the way a men kept his working space speaks a lot about how the man worked. If that were true, then Jarlben's office spoke volumes. As they were lead to their dingy little cabin, Trent lead his donkey though the darkness. As he walked he pulled an item from one of the pouches. When they stopped and were given their leave from Ferny, Trent walked up to Arthos and handed him a precious gift. "Here," he said as he pressed the bar of soap into Arthos's hand.

Trent tied up Petals to a nearby post, as all the trees have been cut down, obviously. He placed some feed next to her and gave her an affectionate pat on the head. Nail, now sitting on his shoulder, looked up expectantly at his master. Trent gave him a scratch on the head and pulled out some rations to eat, seeing as they had missed dinner. Some salted meat, various nuts, and an apple that looked as though it was on it's last day of being edible. A few sunflower seeds were spread out for Nail to feast on. After his quick meal, Trent found a cot to rest in. It wasn't the most comfortable bed he had slept on, but still a mile better then the forest floor. Trent closed his eyes and did his best to remove the image of the gelatinous mass that was Jarlben Trookshavits.

Trent awoke the next morning at daybreak. Nail seemed to still be sleeping, no doubt getting up to mischief during the night. Trent gently picked him up and put him into his pocket. He reached into his pack and retrieved his spellbook, a large but simple tome with a dark leather cover and a silver buckle that kept it shut. After undoing the buckle, Trent riffled through the pages, making mental notes and whispering little chants as he memorized his spells for the day ahead. One spell in particular was important. He pulled the bloody parchment that he was able to recover from the kobold and lay it on the table. Trent uttered a few short Spell - Read Magicarcane words and his eyes began to glow a gentle white. As he stared upon the scroll, the words become a sight clearer and it's secrets were revealed to him. "Interesting," he muttered to himself as the spell was shown. "Could be a fine addition to my spell book." Trent stored the scroll back away into his pack and made a mental note to study the spell further and add it to his own.

It now appeared that everyone else was ready to head off for breakfast. And not too soon either. Trent stomach began to rumble at the thought of food. Replacing his hood once more, he followed the others out, keeping to the back of the pack as always.

Are you confused and wondering what is going on here? Check out this YouTube video to get the scoop.