Game Thread Part 1: An Elusive Antidote - Page 4

LWAGNER · #46 Aug 12th, 2014, 11:00 PM

There was moment when Jarlben’s mercurial mood swing had caused Thias’ resting hand to run to a grip on his dagger hilt. His mind dashed across the room and prioritized his targets. His eyes rested on the fat man and a slight smile crept across his face at the thought of burying the blade to the hilt through the blubber encased trachea. It took quite some time for the blood to flow back into his white knuckles.

The bloat still danced like a puppet on Arthos strings and they were awarded lodging for the night and a meal in the morning.

They were dismissed and a daft weasel named Fernny escorted them to their lodgings.
The door slammed shut and a candle was lit.

“Well played “Argos” Thias said with a smile. “I don’t know about the lot of you, but I won’t sleep well without a watch. Sleeping with one eye open would only allow us to identify our attackers in the afterlife.” Thias spoke in a hushed tone so as not to be heard by prying ears.

“I would volunteer for the first shift.”

PercyHux · #47 Aug 13th, 2014, 01:56 PM

For more than half a second Arthos thought jig had been up. The fleshy foreman's temper had flared and fizzled in an instant.

After they arrived at the old but sturdy looking cabin, Arthos turned to the group, "Sorry about the surprise, fellas. I had a momentary burst of courage, bolstered by the new companions behind me. Sometimes, the promise of a sword or three at your side is enough to make the fool rush in. At least the fool fared well, this day.

I will admit, I had the vaguest of memories of our foul fat friend, and it seems he had none of me, but was too ashamed to admit it in front of Ser Squeaky. At least we have a night to rest and heal a bit of Griff's wounds."

With the animals fed, Trent produced the prayed for bar of soap from his pack and offered it to Arthos. "Thank you, Trent. I will try not to use it all scrubbing the "day" from myself and my clothes."

Arthos took his leave of the group as they were taking in their home for the night. He walked a few yards toward the sound of running water, until he found the rocky edge of the small stream that ran along the camp's boundary. The water was black in the dim moonlight and it gurgled softly as it flowed over the stones and debris along its bed. Arthos dipped his left hand into the water and pulled it away quickly; it was colder than he had expected. He grimaced to himself in the dark.

He pulled off his leather jacket and laid it out on the soft grass near the bank of the stream, hoping against hope that the fresh air would extract any lingering odors. His shirt was next; it was covered in grime from travel and so its once white crispness was turning a soft dingy cream, mottled with specs of dirt. As he pulled the garment over his head, a faint criss-cross pattern of scars on his back became visible in the low light. The left-over reminder of a job long passed. There were other burns and scars that formed a patchwork of a life lived rough. He hoped that this job, his last job, would not add to the scrapbook of pain that he wore with him everywhere.

The soap had no aroma, but it surprisingly was adept at vanquishing the smells he had accumulated. He used it first to scrub out the ripe tunic in the chilled mountain water, then to remove some of the filth off of his bare chest and arms.

After he was done, he laid down in the grass next to his drying laundry and let the cool breeze dry him as well. He hadn't realized how tired he was, but as soon as his eyes closed, he began to sink into a deep slumber; and for the first time in a long time, Arthos had no dreams.

Zany · #48 Aug 13th, 2014, 02:11 PM

Carefully prising the scroll apart Trent sits down to study it, although there are parts that are badly damaged it appears to be some kind of incantation for Scroll of Greaselubrication, in fact although the damage is quite severe it appears to be a spell he knows already. The writing is far more intricate than he is used to though and he suspects that although the words have a familiarity this scroll was scribed by someone with a little more Level 4talent than himself. Carefully he stows the parchment away in his pack.

___________________

The night passes without event and the party manages to get a good rest after the rather chaotic previous day. They awake early, but not as early as the lumberjacks most of whom have had their morning meal and headed out to start the days work. Heading over to what looks most like the meal house they see a huge man clearing away tables a dirty apron tied around his waist.

With his leaf green eyes and bark like beard Milon almost looks part tree himself, he notices the party and turns his huge trunk to meet them.

"Jarlben said as there was some strange lookin folk askin bout me last night," he says looking the group over, "yer a little late to be risin', breakfast is always at seven, you'd o' been welcome to some if'n you'd roused yoursle's. There is some bread and cheese, and perhaps there's even a little fruit left but I'm afraid all the bacon and sausages 'r gone. Help yoursel's anyhows."

He is just about to continue with his work and leave the party to their own devices when he notices Griff standing stiffly at the back. "Do I know you lad?" There is a rustling like walking on dried leaves as he scratches his beard in thought. "Aye, knew I'd seen the face afore you're Roalds young ward ain't ya? Good man Roald, right good man that one."

He sees how stiffly Griff is holding himself and spots the bruising blooming up his neck and on the side of his face, "By 'eck lad, did yer run into a tree or somthin'? Yer gonna have to be more careful than that if yer wandering around out here, there's a lot more trees than you've got bones. trust old Milon on that. Get yersel' to walking around em next time lad, yer can't go through em."

He thinks for a second before continuing, "A good man that Roald, he keeps an eye out for me nephew when he can, reckon' I can return the favor today, hold on here lad and dunna go walking into any walls or ought afore I'm back."

He walks away into the small kitchen at the back of the room and you hear the thumps and clinks or jars and pots being pushed about. After a minute or two he emerges with a triumphant look on his face.
"We get all sorts through here so we do, aye you'd be surprised at the things yer can see in a little place like this. Anyhow, couple months ago we have this funny looking fellow through, all sticks and leaves he were, odd looking thing, nice enough though, most of em are if'n yer nice to 'em first. Old Jarlben wasn't 'ere that day, managed to get himself into a cart for a day out or somethin', felt sorry for the horse mysel', so being as the place was all quiet like I gave this fella a good old feed, by 'eck he could suck down the grub, you'd think he hadna eaten for months. He were pretty damn grateful too I can tell ye, said as he wanted to give me sumthin as a way of thanks like."

He holds out a piece of folded cloth and starts to unwrap it as he continues, "Gave me these he did."

The open cloth contains some pretty strange looking berries, "Goodberries he said as they were, I dunno mysel' don't look all that good ta me. Said as how if I were every feeling a little, you know, under the weather or somthin' like as if I'd walked into a tree yer know, said I should eat one o' these 'ere berries and I'd not only feel like I'd had a proper meal but I'd be feeling better right away like.
Them two biggun's there he reckon'd as they'd do for two o' the littler ones. Well I ain't got no use for em yer see, spent a lot of time in the woods 'as old Milon and I learned to walk around the trees a long timeback, so 'ere lad take 'em. Might be as yer use 'em all yersel' might be yer friends 'ere be needin some tree dodgin' berries too?"

He passes the cloth with the berries to Griff and turns to carry on clearing the tables, "Like a say fella's help yersel' to whatever ye can find as is left from breakfast, I'm 'appy to help if I can."

Berzerkersaurus · #49 Aug 13th, 2014, 10:07 PM

Griff gratefully accepted the gift from Milon. After the strangely friendly yet still hostile welcoming they received from Jarlben and his cronies, a bit of pleasantry was nice. Following Milon’s advice, he popped one of the smaller berries into his mouth and was taken aback by how good he felt afterwards. But then Griff remembered the conversation they had when Laurel first gave them their quest and lightly grabbed Milon on the shoulder before he could completely get back to clearing the tables.

"I wish it were a tree that I ran into, unfortunately it was some kind of undead kobold shaman. But he won’t be harassing anyone coming this way again." While Griff grinned, the smile certainly didn’t spread to his eyes and he struggled to find the words for what to say next. "Say Milon, how long has it been since you’ve spoken to your nephew? I truly hate to be the one to break this to you, but Laurel, the herbalist back in town, told us that she has been trying to treat him for the blackscour plague that is running through Falcon’s Hollow."

Griff moved to wrap his arm around the shoulders of the former forester. "Me ma has come down with it too. In fact, that’s why we’re here. Laurel thinks she may know of a cure, but the ingredients are rare and hard to come by. So we’re on a quest of sorts to find them. I was hoping you could help us. Some of the ingredients are said to be found within the Darkmoon and no one knows the vale like you do. We need to find the Elderwood, one of the ingredients is the moss that grows on it. Another is some root that Laurel has never heard of and although she seemed reluctant to suggest it, she thought we may be able to deal with a witch that lives in the Darkmoon. I didn’t quite understand the things that she was talking about, but if they will help my ma get better, I’ll do everything in my power to hunt them down."

Griiff gestured to his companions. "They’re a bit quicker on the uptake than I am, they should be able to fully explain what it is we need to find." With that, Griff popped another of the smaller berries into his mouth. "These things really do a wonder, I’m feeling almost back to normal…"

LWAGNER · #50 Aug 13th, 2014, 11:21 PM

Thias had kept an watchful eye on Griff to make sure there was no interference nor distraction with his conversation with Milon. It wasn’t beneath the fat bastard to inconveniently give them the incorrect time for the meal. It also could allow for the opportunity to learn why they were in the camp. He could easily see the lumber consortium charging a fee for the cure if the required components were acquired.
Dirty coin indeed. Thias was sure they had hordes of it.

Griff had nervously imparted his knowledge to Milon. He had more to lose in this quest than any of them. His heart was surely breaking bit by bit as each second passed. Thias approached and gently rested his hand on the giant man’s shoulder.

“My friend sells himself far too short. He wishes nothing more than to find these ingredients by any means possible. It is honestly the only hope that Falcon’s Hollow has and it is getting dimmer by the second.

"The first ingredient is a moss, Elderwood moss. It grows only on the oldest tree in the forest.

The second is a root named rat’s tail which needs to be pickled in a particular manner. Of that we were told to inquire of a certain witch by the name of Ulizmilla with the warning of her unapproachable nature and an expensive cost for her services.

The final ingredient is a fungus called ironbloom which could be in the vicinity of an old dwarven settlement, more precisely, near their forges.

Laurel spoke very highly of you and your knowledge of this area so we implore you to impart any thoughts or directions you may have. You have our word we will do anything and everything possible to save any and all afflicted with the blackscour scourge.”

Zany · #51 Aug 13th, 2014, 11:54 PM

Milon stops what he is doing at Griff's words, frozen in thought, it was a lot of information to take onboard and Griff hated burdening him with it in this way but he was their only hope.

After a while he turned to face Griff, "Ah lad I knew I could see a sadness in ye but ah had no idea, an my poor wee nephew too."
He drifts away for a moment and the party waits patiently as he comes to terms with this unpleasant turn to his day.

"Lady Laurel you say? Well he couldn't be in better hands, no indeed, nor your poor ma lad, she's a real angel that sweet Lady, a real angel.
I had 'eard about the sickness o' course but I didn't know it were so bad, a quest you say? Well even if me poor nephew weren't afflicted I would still be wantin to offer you any 'elp I could o' course, and with Lady Laurel involved that makes it even more crucial I do what I can."

Griff suspects there is a bit of a sweet spot in the old foresters heart for 'Lady Laurel', another of those unspoken loves destined to live forever in the shadows perhaps?

Milon lowers his voice a little and leans a little closer to Griff, "I don't normally talk about the forest yer know, if'n that sheep gut filled with lard over in the office got wind of the Elderwood and some o' the things old Milon 'as seen out there in the dark forest - well there'd be no more heart to the breathin' woods that's fer certain - no, no more heart."

Again he drifts away in thought a little but Griff senses his wanderings are of a different kind this time, this man must have some incredible stories to tell, wondrous things he has seen but he cannot share for fear of his own words bringing about their demise.

He nods to himself and draws a deep breath, "If'n lives be at stake and the Lady 'erself sent yer then I guess the time has come. So yer need to find the Elderwood? Well that bit's the easy un, if'n I had a piece of paper I could draw yer a picture like, anything else ain't gonna help yer out there in the Darkmoon, once yer get amonst the thick o' it one direction is the same as another if yer know what I mean?"

Griff's heart leaps at the thought of being one step closer to saving his ma, the bruises from the day before suddenly seem a lot less painful and he straightens his back and grows a couple of inches in the process. He suddenly remembers the map Laurel had given the party, he had snatched it from her desk before leaving the shop, quickly he begins rummaging around in his backpack and soon finds the folded parchment. He places it on the table in front of Milon.

"Ah that be saving us some time now lad, very handy indeed that, very handy." he reaches into the pocket of his apron and produces a small stick of charcoal he uses for keeping inventory of his stores.
"Now the Elderwood" he says studying the map, "Yer can find that just about here." He marks the map as he speaks. "Mind now lad, I will do this fer ye but I ask one thing in return and yer must be givin' yer promise to old Milon afore I give yer this 'ere map back. Yer must promise that yer will destroy the map afore ye comes back outta the Darkmoon laddie, just as soon as yer done with it, burn it good and black. These things have a way of coming round otherwise an' that's be that."

He taps the charcoal against his chin leaving a little black mark as he considers the rest of Griff's question.
Thias walks over and places his hand on Griffs shoulder and Milon looks at the newcomer measuring his worth. He considers Thias' words and his support of his companion and obviously finds it commendable because he nods to himself.

"This other thing yer asking for lad, the witch, Ulizmilla as yer friend here calls 'er, and a nasty piece of work she is too. I don't know 'er myself yer know, always kept my distance from that one but I seen 'er about here and there. I can't tell yer much about 'er I'm afraid, nor even if she's still livin' out there, best place for 'er though, away from civilized folk an' all, but I can point you to her cottage right enough."

He leans over the map and carefully marks another spot with his little black stick of charcoal.

"Yer companion here mentioned some Ironbloom mushrooms yer be needin' too. I sometimes have some in me kitchen dried up an all, sometimes we get a dwarf or two comes to try their hand at cuttin' the wood. They dunna take to it mind, much better at cuttin' rock those fellas aye, yer should see what they can do with a pick, but give 'em an axe, stand em in front of a tree and yer better stand pretty far back lad. They chops it right enough but where it goes after, well I reckon thats how they gets to be so short an all myself.
They loves them Ironbloom though, sure do, but I haven't any in my store for quite a while now, not since the rats got in among them. I can show you where the old ruins are though, old monastery it were, ain't no secret that one, no secret at all. Not a place many want to go wanderin' mind you, there's all kinds o' tales come out o' that place right enough, some maybe's true, some maybe's not. Yer can be sure o' one thing though, there's nothing nice out that way, nothing as wouldn't make the four hundred pounds or rottin' tripe yer met last night seem like a coming home party."

He leans down once more and marks the location of the dwarven monastery on the map.

"Now lad I need to warn yer, there's a lot o' stuff much worse than rotten kobolds out there in the Darkmoon, mayhaps your won't meet too many o' em, but like as not yer will. Yer need to take more care lad, dunna go running into everything yer find, give 'em a tickle with that big stick yer carrying and step out o' the way, am sure Roald musta taught yer how, tickle and duck, tickle and duck, yer knows how it goes. Yer get yourself back to the Hollow and fix up yer ma and my little nephew and keep yer eyes open so as yer don't get to runnin' into everything yer find."

He picks up the map and holds it out towards Griff, "Now I need yer word afirst lad, I have a responsibility to take that from yer afore I go riskin' the old forest to the likes o' lardarse o'er yonder." he nods his head toward the office they had been taken to the previous night and keeps a firm grip on the map waiting for Griffs promise.

Solid Minotaur · #52 Aug 14th, 2014, 01:03 AM

Trent was perhaps the only one who was glad they had missed breakfast. While the promise of a hot meal cooked by a competent chief was appealing, he had no desire to sit in a food hall full of lumberjacks. He had done well so far to keep his form hidden and he was not willing to test it just yet. What was left over seemed tasty enough, so he helped himself to an apple and some of the cheese that didn't look too moldy. He could feel Nail moving around in his pocket again so he was about to draw him out for something to eat when Milon mentioned the rats that were into his stores, so Trent thought it better to leave Nail where he was.

Griff and Thias were making good progress with Milon so Trent thought it best to keep to himself, out of view. He listened to the conversation, lest the bits that weren't whispered, but left his opinion out. He understood Milon's reasoning to burn the map afterwards. The thugs of the lumberyard would only use it for foul purposes. He made a mental note to ensure that the map burns.

PercyHux · #53 Aug 14th, 2014, 01:59 AM

Arthos stood in the rear of the group of disappointed adventurers who had just learned that they had missed breakfast. He placed a hand upon the downy soft muzzle of Trent's pony, rubbing it gently. "At least you ate this morning." he whispered to Petals, not really upset but definitely a little jealous. A low rumble had begun in his stomach: a gurgling protest on the state of being empty.

The sun had begun to peer over the hidden horizon as Arthos had awoken, still laying by the side of the stream from his bath the night before. The faint sparks of morning arced through the treetops like dragon-fire, setting the sky ablaze with their glow. He had slept heavy through the night, undisturbed by even the noisy commotion of the camp stirring to life before the first light of day. A few confused lumberjacks looked his way as they passed to and fro, but they only mumbled to themselves and continued with their duties. He had pulled his cold, but clean, shirt and jacket back on and found his friends still asleep in the musty cabin they had procured. After everyone had been roused, they found their way to the mess hall just before 8, and were now enduring the crushing disappointment of a sausage-less breakfast.

Arthos listened as Milon relayed his sympathies about master Griff's mother, and offered the info he knew about the various ingredients that were required to formulate a cure. Things might just be going our way, he thought with a slight optimism that had been conspicuously absent since they had arrived in the Consortium camp. He knew Jarlben was a heel and had probably sent word to the Board the moment they had taken their leave of him the night before. "Four strangers arrive, asking after old Milon, the former company man with a change of heart", the headline of the message must have read. The Board would assume that Arthos would be among those strangers, and it would be but a matter of time before their destination would be tracked, too. Milon was right to make Griff promise to destroy the map, just now. The Consortium would not only love to monetize a cure to the Blackscour, but also to find the oldest tree in the forest and rip its branches from the sky. The price that the ancient lumber would fetch would be astronomical.

He knew that if Griff didn't burn the parchment, he would have to. Anya loved this old forest; he would not see it torn asunder any further than it already had been. Milon was approximating the location of an ancient dwarven monastery with black charcoal as Arthos's stomach howled again in anger. He bid Petals farewell, and found his way to the nearest table, still listening to every word Milon was saying. There were scraps of bread and the uneaten ends of a few grey sausages left on a chipped round plate. Arthos popped a piece of the greasy meat into his mouth, with hopes to quell the rage that grew in his gut with each passing minute.

Milon was staring at the large man in front of him expectantly, his round hand clutching the updated map tightly. Trent's pet rat was peering out from the tiefling's sleeve, eyeing the last piece of uneaten sausage on the table. Arthos turned his attention to Griff, dropping his guard on the precious half-eaten hunk of meat, willing him silently to accept the old man's condition. Thias watched as Nail leapt deftly from his perch and onto the plate, rolling in mid-air. It snatched the sausage in its watering mouth, turned, and flew back into its hiding spot without a sound. Arthos looked back at the now protein-less plate, scowled with confusion, then shrugged and flicked a crumbled piece of cheese into his mouth.

Zany · #54 Aug 14th, 2014, 04:53 PM

Griff reaches out and shakes Milon's hand, his promise coming easily and from the heart, he takes the map and with it he readily accepts the responsibility he is entrusted with.

Milon walks over to the rest of the party and shakes each of their hands wishing them good luck and a safe journey. Lastly he comes to Trent, he looks at the nervous face watching him from under the hood of his cloak and nods his head gently. Unexpectedly he takes Trent's hand in both of his and leans close, very quietly he says, "I know who you are, and I thank you for looking out for her. It is a great weight off my heart to know that she is not alone in that town."

He then takes his leave and returns to his kitchen to begin preparing for the next meal of the day.

LWAGNER · #55 Aug 14th, 2014, 08:21 PM

Thias graciously accepted Milon’s appreciative hand. It wasn’t a bid of farewell insomuch as it was an insistence to fair well.

While Milon made his rounds to each of the troupe, Thias took the opportunity to grab the meager left overs of the camps morning meal. Joining Arthos, he grabbed some wilted and shriveled pieces of fruit, a thick cut slab of bread and a few slices of dense crumbling cheese (that unfortunately smelled of unwashed feet). He had eaten far worse. There was the time he had been introduced to an envoy from Brevoy and their favorite delicacy, fanged eel. Thias was in audience and was acting as a representative of The House of Sorrow and as such it would be improper, rude and potentially a dangerous affront to refuse the meal. The taste was indescribable and the texture was far worse. It took every ounce of will power he had to keep the slimy substance down. He suppressed a shudder and gratefully continued his breakfast.

Thias watched in amazement as Nail had emerged from the shadows of Trent’s sleeve and produced a series of aerial movements that would do any rogue or assassin proud. The rodent seized his prey and scurried once again into the darkness of the Tiefling’s garment. Arthos’ kept his anger in check but his disappointment was quite evident. Thias coughed out a bit of bread with his suppressed laugh while the man in gray rewarded the efforts of the clever rat with a few crumbles of cheese.

Thias watched as Griff had accepted Milon’s terms and conditions. The map was quickly secreted into the folds of his armor. Thias leaned close to his compatriots so no others could hear his hushed words. “Griff has the map. I suggest we take our leave of this camp to protect ourselves as well as Milon. We can review it and discuss our movements. What say you?”

Solid Minotaur · #56 Aug 14th, 2014, 09:46 PM

Trent took in his companion's words, but his brow furrowed at them. He became quite concerned for Milon's safety. Even more then his concern of how Milon knew of him. While he trusted Laurel, and she has never given away his identity without cause, Trent thought he knew all that had known the truth about the demon of Falcon's Hollow. Obviously Laurel had kept her encounters with Milon from Trent, but it was not something he wanted to pry at.

However a more pressing matter lay at hand. Trent looked towards Arthos. "The grotesque one will ask Milon what we talked about, and if he doesn't like the answer, well, Milon is already doing it pretty rough. Perhaps we should see the Yard Boss before our departure and cover our tracks ourselves. Maybe say something along the lines of he helped us tie up some loose ends with some paperwork, seeing as he was the old boss. I doubt Jarlben would be to interested in talking numbers. He seems to lack the discipline for that. You have a talent for words. Perhaps it best you talk to him again. Perhaps without the hugs, mind."

PercyHux · #57 Aug 15th, 2014, 01:53 AM

The disgust in Trent’s voice when he mentioned the fat foreman’s name was subtle, but present. The mere thought of the man infected his normally even toned voice and turned it into something much more distressed. Arthos could tell that he was worried for Milon’s well-being, and in turn the Lady Laurel. The tiefling surprised Arthos more and more with each passing hour; the compassion that appears non-existent on the exterior, was slowly bubbling to the deep red surface and spilling over into his expression. Trent’s brow furrowed deeply as he whispered his wish to travel back to Jarlben’s office.

“Our thoughts are mirror images, Trent.” Arthos said quietly. “He is clearly under the bootheel of the Consortium Board, and so undoubtedly plans to send news of our arrival and our request to speak with old Milon, back to his superiors. If we are quick perhaps we can affect the contents of that news. The last thing we need is the Board and Jarlben tracking after us into the Darkmoon and learning the wearabouts of the ancient tree.” Milon began clearing the nearest table of its empty plates and flagons, making quite a ruckus in the process. “I should have thought this through before. I’ll admit that my mind has been elsewhere; since returning to this region, my thoughts…” his voice trailed off, and his eyes lost their focus momentarily. A cup fell from the crook of Milon’s arm and crashed to the weathered wood bench next to the table. Arthos’s reverie was halted by the sound. “Yes, perhaps a tale of back-taxes on wages and the accumulation of interest on previous axe-rental or some such utterly dull pursuit would lull him into forgetting about pursuing the issue.”

Arthos remembered the contract in his pocket; all he needed to do was show the document to Jarlben and this issue would be resolved. Officially, he was here at the Lumber Consortium’s request to find the cure. He would, of course, omit the fact that Arthos thought the Consortium was destroying the land and its people more thoroughly than the blackscour ever could. If it was clear that the Board was involved, there would be no reason for the bulbous man to inquire any further and possibly endanger the lives of Milon and Laurel. However, in Arthos’s line of work as of late, the truth was a commodity that could get you killed. Therefore, Arthos was wary of the righteous solution.

He dealt in obfuscation and deception; and both had become lead weights around his throat. He had tried to deny the beast he was becoming, but a moment would always arise (much like this one), when the choice between truth and invention would stand before him. Often the most straightforward path would be the honest one. But the easiest path, the safest path, would lead him further from the light where Anya waited, with outstretched arms. Can I trust them? I only want to stop this sickness, but my tie to the Consortium would surely exorcise me from this new group; from these new friends.

"What do you think, Thias, are you up for another trip to see our old friend?" Arthos forced himself to smile, despite the turmoil growing inside is mind. Another cup fell to the ground with a thud and Milon cursed to himself loudly.

LWAGNER · #58 Aug 15th, 2014, 05:11 AM

Thias felt a large headache coming on. He held his head in his hands.

"My friends, there is nothing more that I would like more than to see that fat pig on a spit."

He spat through clenched teeth.

"But.......we have a mission to complete. Every second wasted, another innocent succumbs to the contagion.We are talking about initiating a conflict with a very powerful individual and an unknown number of cronies."

He paused to let his words sink in.

"Any move on the fat pig and the consortium will be an opposition trailing us on this quest or waiting for us on our return.
If we die, so does Falcons Hollow. And it will be a slow lingering death. Those that will not be able to afford the cure will die first. The rest will be driven into poverty while they struggle to make the coin for the cure."

Thias hoped they would at least consider his concerns.

"I do not want anything to happen to Milon either. He is the only person i have seen with heart or conscience since we entered into this camp. But Jarlben would have thrown him to the wolves before now if he could have. Milon knows what he is doing."

Thias stopped for a moment.

"...and for the record, I would not be opposed to continuing our discussion with Jarlben after our quest is completed."

Zany · #59 Aug 15th, 2014, 09:39 AM

The group were still standing in the mess hall debating their plans for Jarlben when Milon came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on his apron. He walked right up to them and pointed up at the wall.
”See that there vent fellas? Well that vent goes right through the wall there and into the kitchen out back. Now it ain’t so easy to go jaw wagging while swinging an axe and all. So most o’ them fellas they do their talking when they get to eating.

So there ain’t much round here old Milon misses if'n yer get my drift.”

He perches himself on the edge of the nearest table and shakes his head.

”I think yer’s all got good hearts and all but if’n yer brains were half as big yer’d be halfway back to the Hollow with the cure by now. Do yer really think that lardarse took old Milons job from him?

Let me tell how it is round here, I stepped down from the job because o' the way they treating the forests there see. Ain’t no need for it, take a few trees here and there, new trees grow, everyone wins, but cut them all and the forest dies. So what kind o’ job do yer think that meathead does round here? Think on it some. That sack o’ whale blubber is the best thing the consortium ever did for this here forest, hardly ever leaves his office, yer want to replace him with some young hothead, someone that knows what they're doing like old Milon is that what yer thinking? That’ll get things moving round here just right don’t yer think.

Now why do yers think old Milons still kickin’ about out here when he’s got much better places he could be? I gets to keep an eye on things working back there in the kitchen yer follow? An yer seen the size o’ the puddin’ over there, old Milon ain’t never going to lose this job so long as he keeps piling the plate high, it’s that simple right.
And yer really think I would have given yer that there map if’n I thought yer were going to lead the whole damn consortium into the Darkmoon? Jeez fellas I should go get my old fryer from back there and knock some sense into the lot o’ yers.
This here disease yer after fixing, it hurts the consortium too, got no cutters with all the sickness and all, they don’t got a man to spare for following a group o’ lump heads round the woods.”

He stands up and steps a little closer to the abashed looking foursome.

”So what's the thinking fellas, getting it into yer noggin’s there, going to give some others a little credit and get to doing what needs doing or are ye all set on making the world dance different? Cause if’n its the later old Milon’s going to go back there and get his fryer and be making a few tunes o' his own ye all can dance to.”

PercyHux · #60 Aug 15th, 2014, 10:28 AM

The problem with being part of a conspiracy, was that you tended to see them around every corner, lurking in every shadow. After the scolding from the old cook, he felt ashamed for giving in to the false intrigue. Milon was no fool; why would he stay to help feed the workers of the company whose tactics he had become so disillusioned by? To keep a watchful eye on them, of course. He had more power in this scenario than Arthos and Trent had given him credit for. After all what was the old saying? "He who controls the pies...?"

"You are right, ser Milon. There is no reason to disrupt the day-to-day of your camp." He stressed the word to re-enforce that he had indeed understood Milon's point. "We should be on our way, then."

He turned to the others with an expression of equal parts embarrassment and determination. "We can more than likely sneak out of camp now while Jarlben is undoubtedly napping from what must have been an enormous breakfast. If we are to wait to speak with the man again, I would just as soon avoid him entirely until our quest is completed."

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