[Game Thread] I. Lehman’s Hollow

[mountainbound]

Game Background - A New World Thirty-nine years ago, explorers from the relatively civilized realms of OR discovered a sizable, and yet uncharted landmass across what was once thought to be an endless ocean. (Think Magellan.) Initially the explorers thought they were the first to discover this land, but it wasn't long before they began to discover the ruins of ancient cities, burial sites, and overgrown temples abandoned long ago. Who these previous people were, and why they disappeared, is a mystery. Of course, to the new settlers, their disappearance is a source of constant anxiety. For the first thirty years, at least two fleets of ships from OR journeyed to the new world, bringing more settlers, goods, and news from "home." But ocean travel from OR is long, hazardous, and deadly -- and expensive for the kingdom of OR. Now it has been several years since the last fleet of ships from the motherland has come, leaving the colonies worried and cut off from their home civilization. Not knowing whether this fledgling colony has been discarded by the king for some other (less dangerous and expensive) pursuit, the people of the new world have had to establish some kind of order for themselves, explore the new land, and unravel the mystery of the ancient civilization that once flourished there. Hungry for news, some colonies are even building ships with which they aim to set sail back to OR, though none are ready yet. Though game and land are plentiful in the new world, there is a lingering sense of some unknown corruption. Worms and wriggling creatures of every size and variety are in abundance there, as well as an untold variety of creatures. The settlers' home continent of OR had been civilized centuries ago, with only a few goblin bands and reclusive dragons remaining. All other strange creatures have been long ago hunted to extinction. There are no "clerics" in a game sense, though there are preachers aplenty. Some wizardesses have the power to heal, however. As a rule, magic is the domain of women.

 

Silas Mota Silas Mota was born in a small frontier town called Lehman’s Hollow. The town was named after the leader of the first expedition from OR, Bartal Lehman, who chose this spot for its proximity to Kimiquan Creek in a shaded, secluded hollow, and for its ready access to the coast and thus the ships coming to and from OR. In the years since the town’s founding, there were many who thought that the town should be re-named Lehman’s Folly. Shipments from the Homeland had become a thing of the past. There had been no shipments, or contact for that matter, with OR for many years. Many of the first generation settlers despised this, and cursed this gods-forsaken land so far removed from the status, and luxury, they’d enjoyed back home. They had come to this continent in pursuit of wealth, but instead found only mountains of hard, hard work, and a struggle to survive. Silas Mota, however, was not one of those longing for the Homeland. Lehman’s Hollow was his home. Silas relished the surrounding forest, and as a child would trek tirelessly up and down Kimiquan Creek, trying to learn all its moods and mysteries along the way. The Crick, as it was more commonly known by the residents of Lehman’s Hollow, was a vital resource to the town. It provided fish in abundance during the spring when Silverfish came upstream to spawn. It provided drinking water, and power for their mills. But to Silas it was simply beautiful. For a time, Silas had earned some respect and status among the people of Lehman’s Hollow for his ability to hunt, and his generosity in sharing the meat provided by his efforts. For about a year, Silas enjoyed this praise, and strove to earn even more by bringing home larger and larger game. Soon, the town began to expect it of him, and rather than being thankful for what he did bring, they derided him for not bringing enough. Or they called him lazy for spending his days with his friends swimming in the Crick, instead of going out hunting. Other hunters charged for what they snared. Yet Silas was lazy because he didn’t give enough away for free. Before long, Silas began to distance himself from the people of the town, spending more and more time wandering the wilderness surrounding Lehman’s Hollow, trekking for as much as a week at a time. He gave up hunting for the town altogether, and hunted only on those occasions when either he, or he and his friends, went out on a multi-day expeditions up the Crick to have a few drinks, explore the neighboring ruins, and get away from the clutches of their parents. On these occasions, Silas felt that The Hunt was something special, sacred almost. Whenever he killed an animal he would thank the beast for its bounty, and eat its heart. Why he did so, he was not entirely sure, save that it felt right. Or perhaps more accurately, that to not do so, would be a great and unforgivable sin. In some way, eating the heart, raw and still warm, was a way to make sure that the beast did not die in vain, and that some of its essence would live on in him, and would in turn be passed on to whatever wild beast finally ate Silas when his time came, completing the circle of life. Around the age of eighteen, Silas began to become more and more discontented with life in Lehman’s Hollow. The people there just seemed so petty and shallow. He couldn’t stand to hear them curse the wilderness around the town, and grew more and more frustrated by the laments of long lost life in OR. Couldn’t they see the beauty around them? The forest provides everything, if you just watch, listen, and work for it. He couldn’t understand their attitudes. Even his parents suffered from this malady, and would regale him with tales of cities encased in stone, where one did not have to work in order to eat, simply buy everything you needed. He had to admit, there was something to that, but he didn’t think he’d like to be hemmed in by stone all the time, always worrying about manners. Still, even here in the Frontier, there were customs from OR that reared their ugly heads from time to time. Silas was always getting in trouble for not doing things he ought to do, or for doing things that simply “aren’t done”. Silas simply did as he felt was right, and for the most part, really couldn’t give a fig for what others thought, though of course he didn’t like anyone to think ill of him. But one day after recently celebrating his nineteenth winter, Silas fell very much afoul of the town for doing what he thought was right. There was a young girl, about his own age, and very attractive, who was being beaten across the town square by an enraged father. “Whore!” he screamed at her and backhanded her across her bloody and tear stained face, knocking her to the ground. “Slut! You won’t ever spread your legs in my house again!” He kicked her in the stomach, then began dragging her by her black, curly hair across the hard packed dirt road toward The Crick. “But I love him!” she wailed, and was promptly kicked again by her father, his heavy boot driving the air from her lungs with a whoosh. “Ain’t no daughter of mine gonna go around spreading her legs to every goatherd what looks pretty,” he growled. He grabbed her hair again and continued to drag her toward the Crick, her hands clawing at his hand to take the weight off her hair. Blood ran down his wrists and her screams of anguish filled the air. All of the town by this point, were out in the street to watch the commotion. “How can you let him do that?” Silas asked his father. “Why isn’t anyone helping her?” “It’s not our place son. It’s Jenson’s right to discipline his daughter as he sees fit. She brings her family great dishonor, for what she’s done.” “But she hasn’t done anything that the animals of the forest don’t do every day! It’s natural!” “Silas, the people of OR are not animals.” “But he’s going to kill her! We’ve got to do something!” cried Silas. “It’s not our place.” “You’re afraid of him.” Silas said, in a whisper. “You’re a bloody coward.” He looked at his father as if for the first time. He looked around the town. “You’re all afraid of him”. “I’m not afraid, son. It’s just not our place. A woman is her father’s property until she marries. He can do what he likes. There’s nothing we can do.” “That’s ********. He’s gonna kill her for ****’s sake! We’ve got to do something.” Silas’ father grabbed Silas’ left arm around the wrist. “We’re not going to do anything. You’re not going to do anything either” he said firmly. “Let it go. And he’s armed. Can’t you see that? You go after him and he’ll skewer you like a pig with that blade. Let it go.” Silas blasted his father with a powerful right to the stomach, causing him upon impact to let go of Silas. Silas ran across the square toward the scene, stopping to pick up a hand sized rock. About 20 feet away from the two, Silas fired the rock, hurling it with all the strength born of fear, adrenaline and horror. The rock struck Jenson squarely in the side of the head, causing him to let go of the girl, and dropping him to the ground for a moment. He shook it off, and blearily looked around for his assailant. His eyes quickly focused on Silas, standing alone in the square, blood already beginning to drip down by his ear from the blow. Jenson got up, and drew his rapier. It hissed from the sheath, long shiny and more well cared for than anything else on his ragged looking person. “Well looky here. Another one charmed by the spread legs of my little whore. Must be good, since you’re willing to die for it.” Silas gulped, and looked around for help. There was none forthcoming. Jenson began to advance, grinning. Silas was unarmed, but for a small folding knife called a war razor that he had tucked in his boot. He used it mostly for skinning animals, and it certainly was no match for the long pointed steel blade held by Jenson. His hunting bow was at the house. His mind raced for a solution. Jenson charged. Silas did the only thing he could do. He ran. Jenson charged behind, bellowing curses all the while. Silas heard the whoosh of the blade behind him once or twice, but he didn’t look back. They led a merry chase around the square, and before long the older man was breathing hard, no match for the young woodsman. Silas could hear him gasping for air. Silas stopped on an empty porch to catch his own breath. Jenson, panting heavily, stumbled up the front stairs, more exhaustion than murder in his eyes now. Silas picked up a broom leaning next to the front door and hopped the railing on the porch. Jenson took a clumsy swing over the railing, his arm moving much slower after the prolonged sprint, and missed by a mile. Silas reacted, and whacked Jenson’s wrist with the broomstick with a painful thwack of wood on bone. Jenson howled and dropped his sword over the railing with a clatter. Silas threw the broom at him, and bent down to pick up the rapier, not even hesitating before he stabbed him once through the thigh, dropping Jenson to the porch with a cry. But adrenaline drove Silas’ hand and he stabbed Jenson again through the railing of the porch, the blade sliding easily through the soft tissue of his stomach, up under the bone of Jenson’s ribs to deliver a neat, fatal wound. As Silas looked down the blade at his handiwork, Silas’ mind reeled with horror it. How had it happened? As he pulled out the blade, a cry went up from the people watching, “Murderer!” Silas fled into the wilderness, blood dripping down the rapier still clutched in his hand.

It was a turbulent time for the people of Lehman’s Hollow. Following the murder of old man Jenson, there was a general outcry for the menfolk to hunt down the young man guilty of the crime. Two extenuating circumstances prevented -- or perhaps were slowing -- the process of justice however. First was that, after so many years of silence from OR, the few small colonies in the area had decided it was time to send a ship of their own back home. So the people of Lehman’s Hollow and distant Archebald Outpost had been working for almost two years on a vessel that was sea-worthy, and final preparations were now being made to set sail in only two week's time. Most of the men were busy either preparing to undertake the voyage themselves, or with provisioning the ship.

The other extenuating circumstance was, to put it bluntly, nobody cared much for Jenson, and excepting his old hound, nobody missed him now that he was gone -- least of all his daughter Emma nor his wife Bessie. So, for the time being, justice had not been served. But all that aside, young Silas was still not welcome in town, since a murderer was a murderer.

Silas had a few close friends in Lehman's Hollow, but most of them were of prime age to set sail with the other men and set out for OR in a few weeks, and weren't inclined to waste time thinking about their delinquent comrade. Besides, 100 gold was offered for anyone making the journey, and they'd be heroes when they returned. (Though the likelihood of any of them surviving the trip was a taboo subject.)

Only one young man had firmly decided that the sea was not for him. Like Silas, Daniel Heina was 19, and had been raised in the Hollow. His mother was one of the Seaguides, the wizardesses who cared for the winds and helped the original ships find their way to the new world. Before she died, a few years back, she taught Daniel a few minor tricks, but the boy was beaten soundly when his father found out. However powerful it might be, most considered magic a "womanly" pursuit, and Mr. Heina would not have a son who dabbled in feminine mysteries. Men were sailors, farmers, or hunters. Leave the hocus-pocus bullsh!t to the women.

Mr. Heina had locked his dead wife's scrolls and books in a chest that he kept under his bed, but over the years, Silas and Daniel had figured out the lock, and spent many hours trying to decipher the strange writing and sigla. Daniel managed to copy a few pages, and was what Silas would consider, a "closet magi."

It was exactly one week after the murder of Jenson when Daniel finally got a break from his farm chores and was able to head out to "The Pillars." It was a set of ruins that all the young people Lehman’s Hollow knew well. A gathering place not too far outside of town, but well enough away from the adults to feel safe. Knowing Silas well, Dan wasn't that surprised to find him lounging with his back against one of the ancient stone pillars, smoking his customary pipe.

Silas, knowing the sound of his friend's footfalls, didn't bother to draw his weapon, simply passing his pipe with a nod. Dan had longish dark hair and a shaggy beard, a sling over his shoulder with a few small books that he liked to carry with him. His ratty leather armor was worn, but embroidered with leaves and birds on the back, designs common among the settlers. Never one for serious weapons -- like Silas' rapier -- he simply carried a walking stick for protection. He took a drag of the psychedelic moss that grew rampant over the dank rocks of the nearby Crick, and then handed the clay pipe back to his friend with a cough. The sound of the rushing water provided a background to Dan's words, as he slowly let the smoke from his mouth. "Why'd you have to go and kill Jenson? The hell were you thinking, Silas?" he shakes his head. "Stealing his sword was the only sensible thing you did," Daniel cracks a grin. "You know they'd have come hunting you down if it weren't for the Voyage. You'll be glad to here that Emma an' her mom are ok though."

As they spoke, Daniel takes a crumpled piece of parchment out of his pack. "Hey, check this out. I copied it out of Momma's Book three days back. It's a spell that's supposed to let you understand the language of the Greens, but I wondered if it might work on the gibberish that's scrawled on yon pillars."

Green was the slang term for Goblin -- which were one of the last "uncivilized" creatures existing on OR. The humans of that distant continent had long ago destroyed most of the strange or magical creatures existing there, though there were several Goblin kingdoms that still resisted their inevitable extinction. Humans had a way of killing everything that wasn't similar to themselves. Of course, things were a lot different here in the new world, and Silas and Daniel had never known the security that the children their age took for granted back on OR. Both were intensely curious about who might have lived on this land, long ago, and what had happened to them. This wasn't the first time that Daniel had come up with one or another plan to incant some knowledge from the ancient stones.

DM's Note There are no Goblins that anyone has ever seen in the new world. No one has ever heard of elves, dwares, halflings, etc. No one knows what or who built the ruins, though the skeletons of them that have been seem to resemble humans. Monsters and other beasties abound in the new world, however. Lehman's Hollow is relatively safe, but deeper in the wild, it's a different story. Small does of the moss provide a +2 WIS, -2 CHA. This effect lasts about 2 hours. Your turn. Please take a little time to describe Silas along with your reply.

[Krimchee]

“I never meant to kill him”. Silas sat cross legged on the ground, head down, looking at the now clean rapier laid across the well worn brown leather that covered his legs. “It just happened so fast.” He ran his fingers through his shoulder length brown hair with a sigh. “I’m just glad Emma’s alright after all she’s been through. No one deserves to be treated like that. I just had to do something.”
The boys were silent for a time, each lost in his own thoughts. Silas seemed an extension of the earth in faded browns and greens as he leaned back against a stone pillar, his brown eyes intent. His brown hair was partially tied back to keep the hair out of his face. His leather armor was in many ways similar to Dan’s, though Silas’ was of a lesser make (and thus without any of the embroidery in it). But it was as well kept as it was worn, faded with patches and stitches running from place to place where there had been a cut.
The wilderness hummed and sang around them, a myriad voices singing out against the heat of the day. With the aid of the moss opening their senses, it was almost as if they could isolate all the different elements of the tapestry of sound. Silas felt that if he tried, he’d be able to track even the smallest singer within that song.
As they listened, there were sounds neither had heard before. It was almost as if there were words in an unknown language just dancing on the faint edges of the forest sound. Amidst the ruins, it was easy for Silas to imagine that they were the voices of ages past, their ancient rituals still singing through the forest air. Or maybe it was just the Moss.
Suddenly Silas looked up, his brown eyes shining, and intent, his voice and motion abruptly shattering the reverie.
“Can you cast the spell? Let’s try it.”

[mountainbound]

Daniel sits with Silas, listening to the birds and other sounds when his friend finally puts him up to the task at hand. A bit off-balance from the moss, he rises and walks over to one of the carved columns, staring to pull a few of the vines twisting around it before he stops. "This isn't bloodvine, is it?" he asks his woodsman friend, unable to tell one plant from another.

When Silas confirms that it was a benign sort of vine, they strip the pillar of vegetation so that they can both get a better look. There were etchings of what appeared to be men, as well as renderings of the sun, clouds, and many concentric circles and squiggles. Interlacing through the stone glyphs were several sets of incomprehensible runes and sigla.

For the twentieth time, Dan inspects the scroll he had copied and then clears his throat. "OK, here goes." As the late afternoon sun begins to turn the sky rosy, he incants the ancient words. He had tried spells like this several times in the past -- his mother's spellbook had many such rituals, all a little different, and of varying levels of difficulty. This one was short and simple -- so short that Dan had found it scribbled in the margin of one of the pages and had missed it until just this week.

His voice cracks as he wrestles with the tongue-twisting syllables, but almost at once the young man feels a tingle in his head. Rubbing his eyes, he looks again at the pillar and gasps. "Silas! I think it worked... the runes look like words now, like words I can read." Quickly he scans the length of the column and sums up the meaning: "It keeps saying, 'Find safety by cradling the Creator of all Life in your radiant Heart.' What the hell d'you think that means?"

[Krimchee]

"Dunno. Sounds like some kind of religious mumbo jumbo to me. You sure it doesn't say anything else? Let's look around and see if we can find anything else." Silas starts to look around the the area, pushing aside bushes and , weeds gently with his rapier, stooping low to the ground, almost as if he were tracking an animal.

[mountainbound]

Daniel frowns. It was the first time he had ever read the words of this lost civilization with his own eyes -- and the first time he had ever cast this particular spell correctly, so his friend's easy dismissal did not sit well with the young wizard. "True, but that's basically the message that the column is trying to convey. What's the Creator of all Life, I wonder? And what does it mean to cradle something in your heart?" As Silas looks about, Dan lingers near the column, staring intently at the sun glyphs and strange, spidery words as the spell's effect begins to fade from his mind.

Being slightly more versed in the ways of spellcraft, he shakes his head. "I dunno, it kind of sounds like a puzzle to me. Whoa, whoa... Silas--" Daniel points to the column behind his friend, the one that Silas had just finished cutting the vines away from. There amid the thick, fallen vines reared a 4' worm with at least a dozen wriggling legs and a set of razor-sharp mandibles on its head. "Watch it!" Dan calls as the giant insect lunges at Silas.

Luckily, the young ranger had his sword in hand and quickly deflects the attack... but the creature is riled. It hisses, and rears to strike again. Dan furiously tries to remember a spell -- any spell, that might aid them here. With nothing coming to mind, he grips his quarterstaff and moves to help his friend.

Combat Notes Your attack. Please list your AC and current HP in the title of your post. I've posted a dice rolling thread to do your rolls. After you roll and determine if you hit, list your attack and damage (the actual numbers) at the bottom of your post. You can place a box (like this one) around the rolls by highlighting the text and clicking the Boxed "s" icon from among the message editor controls. Plated Cenipede, Undamaged. AC 14.

[Krimchee]

"Dan! Let's try to flank it! It can only attack us if we're in front of it! You go left!" With that, Silas took an off balanced swing at the centipede with his rapier as he began to move right, missing cleanly.

Attack Attack: 10 + 3 = 13

[mountainbound]

Daniel rushes around the pillar to flank the insect. As it lunges again at Silas, the mage whips his quarterstaff around to smack it solidly across the back, cracking one of the chitin plates. "Quick, cut it's head off!" Dan yells. He had come out to the Pillars to see his friend and enjoy a pipe by the water. A giant centipede was had a way of harshing a young man's buzz.

Combat Notes Daniel Attack: 20 Damage: 5 Plated Centipede, Wounded (5hp), AC 12 (flanked) The creature attacks and misses Silas once again.

[Krimchee]

AC 15 HP 12

Silas dodged the centipede's mandibles with a grunt, and then skipped lightly to the right side of the monster to flank it. "Cut it's head off!? Why do I alwyas have to cut the head off? You're the damn fisherman!" Then Silas charged the flank of the beast, reversing the blade and attempting to bury the sharp, pointed blade in the creature's back. Despite the wild downstroke, the pointed blade bit deep into the creature, the thin blade sliding neatly bewteen the plates of the beast's armor, surprising the H out of Silas as well as the centipede.

Attack Attack: 20 + 3 Damage: 6 x 2 (critical strike)= 12!!

[mountainbound]

Laughing despite the situation, Daniel replies, "Fisherman?! An angler after ladies perhaps, but I leave the fish to the old men." Daniel hated the sea -- and water in general. Just then Silas's blade cuts deep and for a moment it seems it's all over. How could a creature survive a stroke like that? But as the ranger withdraws it, the centipede simply seems angrier than ever.

In a small panic, Dan swings his staff again, but his weapon smacks off the pillar and just happens to catch the bug's hind quarters by luck. A little stunned that his last didn't kill the beast, Silas is caught off guard as the plated centipede quickly scampers forward, blood dripping behind it, to catch the young man on the thigh with its mandibles. On the heels of the bite's intense pain, an icy feeling floods into SIlas' leg.

Combat Notes Daniel's Attack: 13 (just hits) Damage: 4 Plated Centipede, Wounded (15hp), AC 12 (flanked) A roll of a 20 means you threaten a critical. Before you make your attack for this round, you'll need to make another set of rolls (attack and damage rolls) to confirm the crit from last round. If you hit with that second set, you confirm the critical hit, and can add the two damage rolls together (including all bonuses and modifiers). Scroll down to the Critical Hits area to learn more here: http://www.d20pfsrd.com/gamemasterin...nal#TOC-Attack Damage: Silas: 4hp damage from the centipede. Make a FORT save, DC 14. Failure means your leg begins to numb, and you suffer 4 points of DEX damage.

[Krimchee]

"ow, you son of a...." Limping backwards with the strenghth of the centipede's blow, Silas was shocked to see (could it be?), his own blood dripping from the creature's mandible. He'd never really been hurt by an animal before. He'd always been the hunter. This moment of surprise, however, did not last long. Now you're starting to piss me off, he thought, anger suddenly blooming inside him. Instinctively he swung down hard with his blade right on the ugly head right in front of him, the blade biting with a squelch.

previous attack confirm critical 9 Fort save: Dice Roll: 1d20+4 (13)+4 Total = 17

attack attack rapier: Dice Roll: 1d20+3 (16)+3 Total = 19 Damage: Dice Roll: 1d6 6

[mountainbound]

The plated centipede lets out a high squeal, shudders, and then falls to the dirt at Silas' feet. Blood and icor quickly pools around the dead creature as it quivers in its death throes. "Holy sh!t, that's a deep wound," Daniel says, coming to stand next to his friend. "That can get infected pretty easy." Worms, centipedes and other creepy-crawlies were a common problem in the new world, and both young men knew a thing or two about the effects of their bites. "A plated crawler can cause permanent paralysis... how's your leg feeling?"

Seeing that Silas can still hobble about, it seems the creature wasn't able to fully inject its venom, however, and it's only the bite that needs attention. Daniel rips the hem from his shirt and tries wrapping it around the wound to stem the blood, but can't seem to stop the flow completely.

As he messes with the makeshift bandage, he says, "The plates of that thing are good for armor. I bet we could make forty or fifty silver stags if we sold them in town. Not to mention its poison. A wizardess might buy the mandibles for at least that much." He pauses. "Too bad we can't take it back to Lehman's Hollow. Nobody would believe that I took down a plated centipede all by myself... they know we're friends, they'll see the slices, and they'll start asking questions. A shame though," he says, looking at the dead bug. "This thing could earn us a goodly bit of cash."

DM's Note Daniel botches his Heal check. The wound will close eventually, but in the meantime Silas loses 1 additional hp (unless he succeeds on a Heal check DC 15 to give himself first aid).

[Krimchee]

"I wish I had my sewing kit," Silas said with a wince as he examined the wound. Get me a bit of the Moss out of my bag, will you Dan? After a bit of rummaging through the frayed hempen backpack that Silas was so fond of carrying, Dan produced a small pouch and handed it to Silas. Silas took a large pinch of the Moss and put it in his mouth and began chewing. The Winds knew that he didn't need any more of the Moss in his head right now, but he needed to chew and wet it to activate the Moss' healing properties. Silas deftly untied the makeshift bandage Dan had put in place, gently setting it aside. He took the Moss from his mouth, gingerly pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, and pressed it into the wound. The pain caused Silas to suck in a sharp, sudden breath, the sound of the air coming through his teeth sounding like the hiss of an angry beast. With the wound stuffed full of soggy Moss, Silas nodded and re-tied Dan's bandage on his leg. Seeing Dan's perplexed look he said,"Old man Nigel says that the Moss is good for more than just smoking. I've never used it like this before, but according to him it should prevent infection and aid the healing process."

After resting for a few moments, and cleaning the ichor off his blade, Silas stood up.
Let's take as many of the plates as we can carry. It'd be a shame to let them go to waste. We should take a bit of that meat and smoke it as well. I don't know when we'll have a chance to hunt. It probably tastes like shite, but it's better that than nothing.

Silas limped over to the carcass, and after stumbling over the first few, he began deftly removing the plates with his folding war razor."Where do you think we can sell these Dan? Lehman's Hollow is definitely out. I'm not going back there. I can't.

Heal Check Heal Check: 12+6=18

[mountainbound]

Dan is duly impressed at Silas' use of the moss. "Yeah, it wouldn't be a good idea for you to stroll into Leyman's Hollow until this blows over -- if ever. We're sitting on a little cash cow though. Hmmm, let's see... Archeebald Outpost is about two day's hike to the Northeast. We both been there once or twice, so you know it's not much more than a hole in the wall. We'd probably be able to sell the plates, but I doubt there'd be a magus there who'd buy the centipede venom." He scratches his beard, trying to remember the map his father had of the area. "Further to the North is Houndsdale. That's a bigger town and we'd probably do all right selling our items, but it's a hell of a trek through the mountains. Never been there myself -- even my pa's only been there once or twice."

For a while the two young men are silent, and then Dan goes on, "Of course, to the South we got Wilk's Bear, and a few tiny hamlets like Troop and Old Forge along the way. I don't know if North or South would be better really. Of course, I'd need to have an excuse to get away from the farm for a few days to go with you..." he says, speculatively.

The young wizard then looks to the sky, and the reddening sun arcing toward the western horizon. "But I probably should get going for now. Pa will be expecting me for dinner. Good news is that tomorrow there's a big town hall meeting and all the men who are setting sail are expected to go. That means that I can probably meet you out here while it's going on. We should give more thought to what's scrawled on these pillars -- I think it's a riddle of some sort."

He picks up his quarterstaff fondly and readies to go. "It was a good fight, eh? Anyway, I'll see if I can't rustle up some fresh bandages for you. Stay wary tonight. Some of them crawlers can smell fresh blood a mile away. See you tomorrow Silas."

DM's Note You can continue the conversation if you have more to talk over with Dan. Otherwise, the sun sets and Dan departs back to the village. Silas has been sleeping under a nearby rock overhang, called "Hermit's Rock" by the locals. It's not far away, is close to the water, and provides a good vantage of the land. He can hobble back there without Dan's help.

[Krimchee]

"Dan, can you do me a favor? Can you get my bow for me? I feel naked out here without it, and after today I'm sure we'll need it. I'm not sure how my old man is going to take what happened, so you should probably avoid him, if you can. If you can't get it, don't worry. I'll buy a new one after we sell the plates and the venom." After shaking hands, Silas watched Dan make his way down the trail towards the Hollow, grateful for his company and friendship today. It had been a close thing with the giant centipede. Silas wasn't at all sure he could have made it on his own.

Do we head north, or south? There might be more opportunity to the south in Wilkes Bear, but there might also be word from the Hollow there as well. North and the mountains then? We'll see what Dan has to say in the morning.

Realizing that the day was short, Silas began to limp his way back to Hermit's Rock to prepare his camp for the night. He needed a fire to smoke some of the meat he'd taken, but he also wanted to prepare it so that it gave away his position as little as possible, and that would take some time to prepare. As he walked, he muttered the ancient words again and again, trying to make some sense of them: "'Find safety by cradling the Creator of all Life in your radiant Heart." What was the creator of ALL life? Semen? Women? And a radiant heart? The word radiant sounds like fire, or the sun perhaps? But what would you cradle in a fire? I hope Dan has some more answers than I do.

[mountainbound]

Dan nods at Silas' request. "Will do. Take it easy tonight. The meeting starts just after lunch tomorrow, so I'll head out and meet you back at the pillars then." He returns the handshake and then sets out back to Lehman's Hollow, staff in hand.

Silas limps back to Hermit's rock and begins preparing the carcass as the sun sets. Soon a chorus of nighttime crickets competes with the constant rush of water and crackle of the woodfire. The rock was a nice place for a camp -- if it wasn't for the ache in Silas' thigh. Sitting on the dry leaves, there was simply no way for the young ranger to get comfortable... and so the night wore on, painful and sleepless. Still, the moss probably kept the jagged gash from infection, and that was something. Silas considers the razor-sharp mandibles lying not far from him, cut away from the creature and carefully cleaned of his own blood. It wouldn't have done to slip while preparing them -- Silas was well aware that the toxic venom was still active within their barbed tips.

It's during his late night speculating that something catches Silas' eye. The Crick formed a wide gully of sorts, with two moderately steep slopes full of fallen rocks and old-growth trees on either side. But in this area of the Crick, there were also several caves. One such opening was almost directly on the other side of the water opposite Hermit's rock, though it had presumably been barred long ago by the ancient people who once lived here.

Silas squints in the darkness, trying to let his eyes adjust after having been staring at the fire for some time. Was that a light he saw, out across the water by the cave? An inhuman gibbering then carried to his ears, soft against the babble of the water. He might have thought he imagined it, except that all at once the crickets stopped their chirping at the strange call.

DM's Note Roll a Perception check.