Zeran hadn't much to say and with how he was feeling he took Krii's humor the wrong way. He feigned a smile but it was obvious he meant it little. "You'll get your damn money when I have it. If you're going to send the strong arms my way give me a five minute head start eh?" He replied to Krii shaking himself and putting on a brave face. Unfortunately because of his illness he wasn't in the right mind set either, he slept and did what he could to get better as things progressed. But he did lose sleep to 'one eye open' at they said drifting between slumberland and that awake you experience just before sleeping. He maintained this listening for signs of someone coming for him why? He hadn't a clue but he was vulnerable and his experience told him it would be better to flee into the wilderness then stand and fight if his 'companions' turned on him.
He didn't see the monster and steered the cart where directed. Silently listening to the dwarf and playing the role of good driver, his gun ready even if empty in case something tried to assault them. He hoped no combat came, he was more then eager to get back home and sleep for a week and feel better. Otherwise, in the back of his head he was trying to determine the best course of action for paying back Krii, and so far the only options where 'hold out some hope that cash flow comes their way soon and Krii will be patient.' or 'Run the f**k away and back towards the city, dump his good and return to his former life style.' Both were terrible and it showed on his sour, tired, drained expression.
Frodrick was less than impressed, and more than annoyed at the poorly placed traps. If he hadn’t noticed the glint of metal with his one keen eye, Jargon could have very well needed to be put down! He would not put all his resources into it, but it would inquire at the trading post who was responsible for this mess. The trapper would get a scolding and a warning - this could have really F-ed someone one up.
It may have been a poor decision coming into the forest. Tension was high, the pace was short, and Zeran’s condition seemed to be getting neither better nor worse. But the boy had committed, and had stubbornly refused to hinder the party’s progress in its mission. It did the old dwarf’s heart good to see that the young of the less-lived races could still have a sense of pride and honor. While Zeran was steering the wagon, Frodrick tried to relay his sentiments.
“Ye be as stubborn as a mule. Sweatin’ like a sinner in church and redder than a red dragon’s heart. You will be deserving a good rest at day’s end.”
This isn’t supposed to be a good relay of Frodrick’s thoughts - he has a 8 charisma and I am trying to role play it as such. Take of it what you will, but I am trying to make him still sound like a bit of a jerk in words even if his inner thoughts are far more noble/compassionate.
Please note that while Zeran is fighting the disease Frodrick will now take double shifts to cover both him and Zeran. He will not make the party wait in the morning either and will need to make endurance checks I suppose.
Zeran simply nodded at Froderick and grunted slightly. "I can rest when we are back at Oleg's or when I'm dead whichever happens first. Regardless my condition if something does decide to try and make us lunch I'll fight the best I can." He chuckled, trying to keep his brave face on but he still looked miserable.
Trap-Filled Glade; Hex B3
The second day of exploration started off on a low note, with yet another powerful looking bear trap spotted within the first hour of travel. Not long thereafter the grey overcast decided to unleash a gentle but steady rain over the forest. The newly budding trees provided scant cover from the rain, and even then only enough that when a branch was disturbed by the passage of some bird or another, it sent a shower of fat, wet drops down on those below.
Slowly but surely the rain covered everyone and everything in a fine layer of damp as the hours wore on. The next trap to cross the party's path didn't show up until half the day's travel was over. It was placed within the shadow of a bush growing on the side of a well-worn footpath that was clearly used both by hunter and game alike. What was worse, it came between two narrowly spaced trees, making it almost impossible to evade for anything attempting to pass that was larger than a lone traveler, and a guaranteed hit for a wagon driver like Zeran.
Frodrick called the party to a halt like he did every time, though by now Zeran knew enough to keep one weather eye on the road and the other on Frodrick to detect the dwarf's warning before he made it.
Before anyone could move to dismantle the fifth trap of the adventure, Miguel and Krii cried out in unison as a tremendous mass of vines and greenery heaved itself with a gurgling squelch seemingly out of the forest brush itself. The shambler from two days before stood hardly ten paces behind the wagon, pinning the cumbersome vehicle between the narrow trees on either side and the dangerous path ahead.
(For as long as you remain on the wagon, your move actions are dictated by Zeran's choice, and you are otherwise considered mounted for intents and purposes that make sense to count (i.e. Concentration on spellcasting, ranged attacks, when you can make melee attacks) if he takes a double move. For the record, though, let me recommend how valuable the cart's movement speed will be in a second.)
(The riders, Frodrick and Krii, will as per usual be able to dictate their own mount's move actions, and will have their own choice of whether they ride fast enough to cause the aforementioned disturbances with spellcasting and ranged attacks)
(Anyway, for initiative Miguel is the fastest reaction time, but Frodrick is just behind him and is actually in a position to do something useful, though Miguel could come up with something yet. The shambler is basically close enough that it'll basically be on top of you any second now unless you immediately high-tail it.)
Zeran looked over his shoulder, and sighed. "Great, just f**king great!" He closed his eyes for a moment and waited calming himself to no avail. "Okay you know what, f**k you, f**k you right in your slimy viney green ass you gigantic prick. I'm sick, and tired of this bloody adventuring for the moment and just want to sleep. But this? Why the hells not!" He muttered a few more curses and would continue his rambling when they had started fleeing.
((Assuming Froderick has cleared the path and it is safe to go on ahead.))
"Alright off we go! Anyone not on this s*** bucket can give a shout and hope I hear." He snarled, cracking the reigns they went off if only to put some distance between them and the ugly jerk behind them
((Or if we stay and fight.))
"Alright, you fools go ahead and sneeze at this thing I'm going to load my gun and then proceed to shoot myself if I miss it." He sighed, this was probably the end and he was going to make good on that promise. Loading his weapon he counted the seconds as they passed wondering if he would indeed have enough time to blow his brains out and not let the monster get him.
“Damnable Desna!” Frodrick cursed as the mound of vegetation came into view. There was little time to react, and even less to make a decision. So which was it: flight or fight? Considering there was a dead owlbear in the area – this thing might have been what took it out. So as much as he liked fighting, Frodrick would have to decline this time.
The dwarf got Jargon Hooves to move forward towards the trap while he grabbed his lance. He then shoved the lance into the trap. Keeping Jargon on the move, Frodrick motioned with his one hand to keep going. “Let’s get outta here!”
Frodrick then waited for Zeran to get the cart going.
Posted on 2013-06-20 at 14:30:29.
Edited on 2013-06-21 at 22:44:46 by Shades331
This is turning out to be almost as much fun as I was hoping three weeks ago
Trap-filled Glade; Hex B3
Miguel leapt up out of his seat when the green hulk appeared. The brave singer drew his sword at once and stood bold on the wagon, daring the vegetation to approach, all the while hoping Zeran could get this show on the road as soon as possible. In the face of the overwhelming bulk of vines and slime he did the only thing he could to counteract it. He began to sing even as it trundled toward the wagon.
For a brief moment Frodrick entertained the idea of luring the shambling monster into the bear trap and thus put a good use to the maliciously lain trap. He spurred Jargon into a jog as he drew his lance—moving toward the trap. No amount of cleverness would do them any good if the wagon could not escape the monster without being hobbled.
The dwarf thrust his weapon at the mechanism as he rode past. The trap sprung shut around the wooden shaft of his lance. Frodrick barely managed to avoid either dropping the lance or accidentally ramming the tip into the ground, but he caught the trap—and several shoots from the bush, tangled in the steel jaws. (-4dmg lance, [6/10] unbroken)
Zeran could only watch in horror as the viney fiend, almost as wide around as it was tall, surged toward the cart. On another day, he might have had a quicker reaction, but today was not a very good day for anyone.
The shambler surged toward the wagon, catching up with a handful of lumbering strides. Before the horses could get their feet under them and the wagon could begin to pull away, it slammed down on the back with one crude fist. The back wheels almost buckled from the force, and Zeran nearly lost his seat as the front end jerked up several inches like a see-saw and slammed back down.
Ever faithful but not fully trained, Bogdan and Matilda began to bolt, startled from all the action. They took no more than one or two steps each, however. The vines that composed the meaty fist which slammed onto the cart had begun to entwine themselves around the rear end of the wagon, preventing it from moving very far.
Kyrie saw immediately what had to be done and jumped at the vines, hacking several apart with the blade of her shovel. The shambler maintained its hold on the wagon, but they only needed to cause enough damage that the horses could break free.
Meanwhile Krii turned Vilify into the brush as he wove his spell armour around himself, preparing to strike at or lure the monster away from the cart once it had made it through the gap.
“Cut us loose!” Zeran cried his encouragement to Kyrie and Miguel, “we ain't going anywhere until then!” He took his pistol from his holster and set it on the bench next to him as a precaution. He kept one eye watching over his shoulder to see when he could take control and urge the horses on.
Needing no further encouragement, Miguel sucked in a deep breath at the beginning of a new phrase. What came out of his mouth next wasn't so much of a hearty sforzando as it was the sound of something crystalline shattering in a discordant chord.
Semi-visible razor-sharp shards of crystal launched from the air in front of Miguel, as if phsyically made of the sound of his voice. The shards tore into the body of the monster (-10dmg Shambler), but more importantly, several more shredded the vines of its fist, severing just enough of its grip to loosen the cart.
At once Zeran urged the horses into action, snapping the reigns to get their attention and force them to heave together. The wagon jerked and tore away from the last remaining vine, all the while Zeran hollered semi-delusional words at them in encouragement, including such as 'landlubber' and 'lily-livered varmint'. The man was ill, it was best not to question his train of though in the heat of battle.
They were hardly clear of the danger yet. For all that Miguel's spell had done to free the wagon, the mound of vines and slime seemed hardly fazed by the extra puss oozing out of its faceless body. Rather it seemed, still intent on charging down and consuming the wagon and all its fleshy occupants
(Okay, I slid in an extra two action because I had Zeran ready when the cart got stuck and I knew exactly what I needed to happen. Frodrick's turn would come next, having finished Miguel's and done Zeran's (newly rotated) ready action. Oh, in addition, Miguel's spell is one of the only that I know that can be cast while performing, so not only does it not interrupt him, but y'all still have the benefits, as long as you stay within pretty close to the wagon)
Posted on 2013-06-22 at 21:05:56.
Edited on 2013-06-24 at 08:55:34 by Sibelius Eos Owm
Hehehe, now that I've thoroughly scared y'all, who wants to go deeper?
Trap-Filled Glade; Hex B3
Even with such dramatic punctuation, Miguel kept up his song. He saw the mass of vines shake itself off and prepare to start barreling in pursuit of the cart. Noting his lack of ranged combat options, he fell back to the storage on the wagon. Already this early in their journey the chartered party had managed to collect an odd assortment of random loot.
He spied what he was after at once, and took the small, rune-inscribed rock out. The thing was possibly too slime-covered and this whole forest was too damp to consider the alchemist's fire, but this might be enough to deter their would-be predator.
Frodrick wheeled his steady mare around, lance now proudly bearing the standard of one bear trap. The dwarf saw as Miguel did that the wagon was not yet fast enough to escape the monster's charge. It's trunk-like legs came one after the other as it picked up pace. Frodrick knew he couldn't stand up to this thing's charge on his own, but with a little teamwork . . .
With a dwarven cry he directed Jargon to come back alongside the wagon—but facing the rear this time. Frodrick leveled his lance at the surging mass of vines as Jargon danced on her feet, awaiting her master's command.
The shambler caught up with the wagon a second time. Rather than attempting again to grab hold of the wagon and pin it down, it reached directly for Kyrie, the closest target on the wagon. The girl braced for a case of extreme gardening while Frodrick, almost completely ignored to the side, struck.
The great horse rose up on her hind legs. Frodrick thrust his lance up toward what might loosely be termed the monster's shoulder while Jargon kicked high at the limb reaching for Kyrie. Acting in concert they tried to throw off the monster's attack.
Despite their best efforts, though, the great fist of vines slammed down on Kyrie, bringing her to her knees and nearly flattening her to the wagon boards from sheer force (-12dmg Kyrie). Not content to give up the paladin quite so easily, the two managed barely to throw off the massive fist before it could take hold of Kyrie's half-senseless body and drag her from the back of the wagon.
Leaning on the butt of her shovel, Kyrie pulled herself back up to her feet. She knew better than to try to fight back in her condition and besides, she had already done her job in protecting her allies from at least one attack, even if it had nearly wiped her to do so. Of course, there was also a 10' gap between her and the monster, which was not something she ignore easily.
She fell back to the front of the cart next to Miguel and landed on the bench, half against her will as the wheels crossed a root sticking across the path or something of similar size and shape. The wagon was still gaining speed and others could pick up where she left off.
Krii, for one, was well ready to make a distraction of himself for the huge monster. Without slowing down, the sorcerer rode out across the footpath from the trees, firing a beam of cold at the upper parts of the monster as he passed. (-1cold Shambler), and rode on, silently daring the mound of vines to follow him for more.
Zeran continued to coax more speed from the horses and the wagon began to pull ahead faster than the monster could chase.
Determined not to lose its prey the creature grabbed at the retreating wagon, unable to gain purchase until the ham-fist closed on the back board. For a brief moment it seemed like they would be caught again, but the damage it had done to the hind parts of the wagon took it's toll. With a great crack the back board broke clean off, leaving the mound with nothing but wood and hinges.
Frodrick took advantage of the creature's distraction with the back board to turn his horse away as fast as he could ride, now that no one else was within the danger zone.
The shambler took a couple steps after the lot, but apparently recognized that this meal would be more trouble to continue chasing than it would be worth. It stopped after only a couple steps and watched silently as the greenbelt charter party escaped with their lives.
After the intense chase, the rest of the day was a very welcome degree of inactivity. The final excitement of the day came when Krii spotted another bear trap before Frodrick. It proved to be the last trap they would have to face until the next time they returned this way, as only minutes after taking care of that the party spotted the edge of the forest.
Eager to be free of the woods for each their own entirely understandable reasons, the group did not make camp until they had put at least a couple hundred feet between them and the outermost tree, far enough that any other predators would be well visible long before it could ambush them.
(Hey guess what? You survived! All pieces intact and plausibly alive. There's only a couple days left before arriving at Oleg's, and for further good news, Zeran's fever breaks on the evening of the 8th while travelling across the plains, and he's fully recovered to full health by morning on the 10th)
(Feel free to treat yourselves as if you'd arrived back at Oleg's already. I think you get there about midday on the... let's call it 9th (so Zeran hits full strength the next morning)
After the fight as the party flees
Ridding off and following beside the cart, Frodrick bellowed out to his compatriats. “Thank the goodly gods of Galorian that oversized dandilion hadn’t picked up Kyri! Looks like it ain’t following us either.”
Looking over Zeran, Frodrick tried to figure out the condition of the farmer girl. She took a massive hit that would fell most humans, and even a few dwarves… little dwarves. “Be the lass al’right there? If she be breathing, then the answer is for all intensive purposes a ‘yes’.”
Frodrick let Kyri take the tent this time, and insisted that he take over her share of the night watch. They were nearing Oleg’s, so it would not take too much out of the old dwarf to stay up a few extra hours. In truth he felt ashamed and responsible for the paladin’s wounds. It was his job to keep up the defence, to make sure no one got hurt. He failed her and the rest of the party when that tree slammed its arm into the girl and the wagon.
What also peeved the dwarf off was that his age was very evident: he had not been on the battlefield for a while now, but now that he was back in action, he found that the years had not been kind to his body. He could take less hurt, and dealt even less, and he was never a limber figure to begin with. He noticed that he hunched more, and it took more effort to balance his weapon and shield. It was a nightmare only having one of his two implements of war out and equipped. There was a good side to all this though: it added a challenge to every fight.
As the night’s fire flickered down some, the dwarf added a few sticks and prodded it.
Frodrick brought Jargon into the stables, and called to Stephan for a grooming kit. The boy hustled over with the items in tow. Frodrick noted some subtled differences in the way Jargon acted towards the boy, and decided to go out on a limb. “Boy, today I wanna see how Jargon Hooves takes to you. Go about your bussiness, but if I find one hair on her body out o’ place I will tan your hide with the S%^$ shovel!”
After standing back a few minutes to see that Jargon indeed was allowing the young pup to attend to her, Frodrick went about to see what the other tenants were up to, as well as get an account on what was on their tab – the dwarf was thinking about ordering some supplies.
Driving Away back Home
Zeran focused on his task of getting them out of there only taking a moment to turn his head to the side and lean slightly vomiting his stomach contents out. "F**k Me sideways." He grunted as he spurred the horse onward to home intending to get there as soon as possible, and get into bed and hopefully not die. "Nice job, well done and all that sh*t all around. You lot can celebrate and make sure Kyrie stands while I go die of whatever illness I've caught." he grumbled not turning his head to look at the group, needing to stay focused, focused and driving, home, sleep, soon.
Zeran watched the dwarf, respecting his willpower and desire to ensure the safety of the younger generation. "You got a good heart dwarf, might be the fever talking. But I'm glad your with us. Wake me for my shift, I'll not miss it. I can rest when we are safe back at Oleg's." He grunted trying to hold in his dinner, knowing food would help him heal.
He took his night shift, remaining vigilant as always hiding his fatigue and illness with a remarkable poker face but it was evident he was on the brink.
Zeran parked the wagon just inside making sure it didn't block anything before falling out of the seat and landing with a heavy thud onto his seat. "No questions, if you absolutely need me come get me. Otherwise the lot of you git!" He snarled out holding his stomach in one hand making his way to their beds while they were here. He puked again outside making sure it landed out of the way so the ground and Earth could take care of it. "Bah, adventuring sucks something fierce." He spat seeing the glass half empty right now.
Inside he crashed into his bed with a heavy thud, making sure to kick his boots off, strip his top off and give the scar in his belly a once over. "Bitch comes back as zombie I swear I'll put another dozen rounds into her just for sport before her head again." He sighed, laying back and closing his eyes as his head hit the pillow. Sleep came instantly, troubled, and fevered filled with dreams he cared little for keeping him on the half awake side of the dreamland. But when he did finally cross over...
He was in a bar, one of the ones in Brevoy it would seem or so he thought, it looked familiar. He was a stranger in his body, forced to watch and follow the motions like a play. "Zeran! Over here ya big lunk!" A voice called drawing his attention from the racks of booze. "Felicity my darling! I thought you had skipped town already?" He grinned from ear to ear seeing the familiar blood red haired halfing he had spent many a heist and night with.
He didn't even wait for the invitation to sit, slipping into a chair across from her and planting his arms onto the table leaning forward slightly to better hear her. "Not yet dearest, not yet but soon. I trust you'll be staying here though? Not ready to fly the coop so to speak?" She sounded hopeful, it even showed in her eyes despite the cocky grin she wore. His heart broke some seeing her asking, no begging him to go with her on some adventure. "I'm...afraid not hon...I'll be staying here, keeping the fort down you know? Gotta make sure you got a basement for your loot and a house to call home eh?" He tried to tease, smiling gently but his eyes reflected the sorrow he saw in her own.
She laughed, and her companions laughed with her but he could tell it was forced, she was good at putting on a show. "Oh you charmer~ I'll be sure to come look up whatever forest shack you got for yourself when I return. Can't forget the little people after all can I?" She teased in return coaxing a grin from him. She nodded to the rest of her group and cleared her throat. "Oi, you lot go get things ready we gotta leave soon." The ladies and gents she was with exchanged a few words and nodded. "Alright we got the hint see you outside." They departed without another word, Zeran was pleased they seemed a friendly bunch. "Before you go." He stopped them without looking from Felicity. "Take care of her for me." One of the girls nodded and smiled, it was all he needed.
"So...still going to rob people?" Felicity asked once her companions had gotten out of ear shot range looking down at the table. "No...I...have my own agenda lined up. Consider it a surprise, incentive to come back safe okay?" He reached across the table and gripped her hand gently feeling her place the other on his. She looked up, smiling gently looking about to cry. "I promise I'll return, I expect a warm bed and a warm meal when I'm back got it?" She teased, even in their parting moments.
"Got it...I'll..make...sure...of it...Felicity...." He was sweating, cold sweat and feverish having muttered his half of the conversation from his dream out loud for any to hear. How long he had been out for wasn't known to him, but he wasn't able to stop himself speaking either. As that dreamed faded, he fell into more fevered nightmares clutching his parting moments with his beloved as a light in the dark.
Posted on 2013-07-03 at 08:50:03.
Reralae Dreamer of Bladesong Karma: 133/12 2173 Posts
Sweet mother of holly
That is one... oversized... weed.
As far as last thoughts would have gone, that would've been quite a fitting one for the former farm girl. She wasn't entirely sure what to expect, given the vegetative nature of the creature. All things considered, Kyrie was well enough prepared to jump at it if necessary and it meant giving the others the time needed to escape.
Fate, however, seemed to decide that it was necessary for Kyrie to get those martyr-like thoughts out of her head. One way or another. It chose a hard and blunt way.
The force of the impact was immense, and later she would count her shovel lucky that it didn't shatter. The pain was immense, and she couldn't help but cry out as it impacted. Afterward, Kyrie quickly stood up from the adrenaline coursing through her system, but immediately teetered on the balls of her feet, the world spinning around her as she was forced to put the end of the shovel beneath her to steady herself. Her right arm was limp at her side, and her breathing came in short, ragged gasps. If she weren't so stubborn she probably would have panicked. As it was, she was struggling to right herself and get through the ordeal, even as her body was betraying her will.
But then gravity came into play, and well, it was fortunate she was leaning back, since she landed backward on the carriage. Kyrie let go of her shovel in her left hand, and lifted it to her chest, grabbing at the acorn pendant she wore. They were moving. With any luck that meant that they would be okay now. That thought flickered through the haze in her head and helped calm her breathing. Breathing. Even breathing was painful.
Kyrie grimaced a bit as she opened her eyes, breathing slowly and carefully. She wasn't out yet. Kyrie staggered to get herself into a more comfortable sitting position.
“Be the lass al’right there? If she be breathing, then the answer is for all intensive purposes a ‘yes’.”
Kyrie lifted her left hand to wave slowly, though she wasn't sure if Frodrick could see it. "Still... okay."
Not good. Not terrible. That meant okay. She could do okay. And being okay she just had to get better. Kyrie promised, once again, that she would. She'd get better.
"Thank you." Kyrie told Frodrick when they stopped for the night, the dwarf saying that he'd take over for her shift. There was certain tactical points to it that she would be silly to argue against. The kicker though was that in her state, she wasn't sure she would be able to draw a full breath to shout out if something did came up during the night.
It still hurt for her to breathe, and her upper torso and right arm still weren't agreeing with her. When she went into the tent, she took the opportunity to take off her armour for once. It took a lot longer than she would have liked to admit, but being careful paid off. Kyrie was able to remove the armour without causing any more damage, of which it was evident on her skin.
She examined herself as best she could, using a dagger blade as a makeshift mirror. It wasn't the best quality in the world, but this wasn't something she'd be able to miss. Kyrie's skin had gone dark in places where the blow hit her, and where the shovel had recoiled and struck her. The bruising was extensive, and Kyrie knew she would have a hard time hiding them, particularly the ones that went upward along and above her right shoulder.
Still, this was no time to rest just yet. Frodrick had given her more time for rest, but first and foremost she had to try to take care of what she could. It was slow work, but eventually she managed to get her right bicep braced in a splint. The bone wasn't broken, but it was definitely injured. There was little else she could do, with no open wounds to tend to, and so she slept.
Kyrie didn't wear her armour the next day, nor any other day along the path back to Oleg's. She did her best to tend for both herself and Zeran, whose condition was worrying but thankfully not terrible.
She told herself that this was a part of getting better so that she wouldn't be a liability to the rest of the group. Kyrie wasn't combat ready, and everyone knew it, so there was little point in trying to appear so regardless, even if she was capable of using her shovel left handed. Mostly, she did her part to try to get better sooner. Not over exerting herself, and keeping to a good rest routine. If anyone asked, however, she would smile and say that she would be okay with a bit more rest. How much 'a bit' was, however, she wasn't sure herself.
Zeran's condition appeared to worsen a bit when they finally got to Oleg's. Or perhaps that was just a side effect of finally being able to get some assured, complete rest. Even as he called the rest of them to 'git', Kyrie rubbed at the back of her head. She doubted he meant that too seriously, more in reference to not wanting to get anyone else sick.
When she was sure that he had fallen asleep, she carefully entered the room with a small basin of water and cloth. What kind of person would she be if she abandoned her duties? Kyrie shrugged a bit, and wandered closer.
Kyrie didn't pay much heed to what he was saying, in his feverish state between dream and sleep. With care, she wiped his brow, which glistened from sweat, with the damp cloth. One word stuck out to her, however, that she couldn't help but overhear. Well, it was more likely a name. 'Felicity'. It sounded foreign, and she wasn't sure what to make of it, but also was fairly sure that it wasn't really her business.
Checking once again that his temperature was stable, she gently lay the damp cloth on Zeran's forehead, leaving the room with basin carried in left arm, her right still limp in its sling.
Posted on 2013-07-04 at 05:48:52.
Edited on 2013-07-04 at 08:05:28 by Reralae
Aside from getting Jargon all fixed up, there was another order of business that Frodrick had to take care of: mainly the poorly placed traps in the woods. Looking for the rag-tag woodsmen/trappers that were at the fort, Frodrick took to investigating what the hell was happening with those poorly placed traps. As he got to one of the trappers, he started his conversation.
“Hey there boy. I was wonderin’ if you knew anything about them bear traps in B3*. If it so happens ye be the trapper settin’ them up, ye need to mark ‘em better and place them not on the trails used by man, dwarf, and horse. If yer not, then I would keep my eyes open in that area or ye might find yourself with a very injured leg.”
“I think you should also let yer fellow woodsmen know that we found a giant mound of walking vines in B3*. It nearly crushed our farm girl over there, and she helped take out the small encampment of bandits in D4*. Maybe a different one of them things, but we saw one on the outskirts of B2* - so it might have a large territory and ye may want to stay out of the northwestern section of the woods all together if ye don’t want to see what it’s insides are like.”
Having dealt with one of the trappers, he beileved his due diligance was done. Now it was on to Svetlanna and perhaps the news of a warm meal in the near future.
*Frodrick gives a description of the area refferenced. Hopefully since they charted it, he has enough to go on that the hunter knows where he is talking about.
Posted on 2013-07-04 at 16:03:13.
Edited on 2013-07-04 at 16:10:47 by Shades331
It turns out the trappers and hunters have been working these woods longer than any of us.
Oleg's Trading Post
South Brevic Borderlands
“North part o' the Narlmarches, eh?” The trapper examined the area of the map Frodrick had indicated. “I got a couple traps in that area, but all of mine are marked, unless somebody after me went and hid them. That I can swear by as the stars see me—though come to think of it, the trap(s) you brought in looks familiar.”
He called to a hunter engaged in a chat with the guards—Frodrick recognised him as the very same they had met on their first trip into the forest near a month ago.
“Noel, what do you make of this?” he asked, indicating the trap Frodrick brought back and explaining the story of the trapped glade. “Remind you of a mutual acquaintance?”
The hunter named Noel glanced at the trap and inspected the area of the map. “Mutual acquaintance? You mean Breeg, that sarden bastard of a poxy sow?” He took a closer look. “I haven't seen that blighter in more than a month—and he still owes me money. I figure he'd gone and given up trapping and joined up with the bandits, but he may have left plenty of his traps laying about. And I wouldn't put it past him to leave his traps so that two-legged prey could get snared just as easily as any beast—he was a right foul piss-case.”
With a full audience, Frodrick chose to broach on his next topic.
“Sounds like a shambler come up from the south,” said the first trapper. “We don't get them up here so commonly, but occasionally one wanders further north, usually after it storms. Something about the lightning must make them wander-happy.”
“Usually the worst we have to contend with, besides the bandits, up north here are roaming owlbears, but every now and then something more dangerous shows its face. It'll be going back to its usual grounds before long, I wager. We'll let folk know as we pass, but I reckon most o' them'll know this forest well enough to stay away when they see the signs of a shambler in the area.”
(If you've forgotten who Breeg Orlivanch is, I couldn't blame you. He's listed in the minor NPCs from when you ran into 'Noel' here and he commented that if you saw him to let him know he's still got gambling debts to pay and let Noel know where. You haven't yet run into anyone of his description among the bandits, but that could just be because he wasn't with the Thorn Ford camp. Breeg is not to be confused with Falgrim Sneeg, who was a mercenary that once worked with Kesten before he robbed them and fled to become a bandit. Unlike Breeg, Falgrim has a reward associated with his capture, preferably alive.)
“Sounds like this Breeg is a down right piss-ant. I’ll be sure to pull my punches so the rest o’ ya can get a shot in on him. Good to hear on the shambler too. Thanks for the info on them beasties – I will be sure to note that down so we are more wary if another storm hits.”
Frodirck requested that the charter party would meet him at the fire that night. He did not demand it: they were all exhausted, but he hoped that they would entertain his call. Krii and Miguel should be there for sure: they had no real ailments or wounds to speak of.
“Now that we got the grasslands covered, I suggest we consider organizing ourselves and focusing on a new goal. We got several things on the rise here: Firstly, we still have the duty of mapping out the area. That would mean going into the forest and hilly regions. We also have that Stag Lord to take care of. The Shambler we fought was in the northern wood, but the trappers I spoke to figure it will run back down south before long, so I would think we should give it its space for the time being. Then there are the posters: We got a a giant boar, a kobold problem, and a temple search. Then there is that treasure map we found.”
“Lots to do laddies, so I think we should figure out what should come first. Though it ain’t goin’ no where, I think we should search for that treasure: we are a bitt low on cash at the moment and the money could help us resupply with potions, better arms and armour, as well as get other miscellaneous supplies. If we get to explorin’ the lands some more, I say we stick to theeastern side of the green belt and only go in to the forest after all the rest is mapped. I ain’t wantin’ to pick a fight with that there mound of vines.”
Please put up some info on Shamblers in the bestiary, including their wanderlust tendencies after storms. Perhaps you should also grey Nikodim in the “Minor NPCs” list.
Posted on 2013-07-05 at 19:41:57.
Edited on 2013-07-05 at 19:42:48 by Shades331
Krii had been standing just outside the wall, his thoughts were muddled and many, he couldnt help but feel the same uselessness he had many times in his past, but this only strenghtened his resolve to grow stronger.
Frodris call for a group meeting had stured Krii from his thoughtsd and he hurried to meet what group members had come to the fire. Krii sat down and looked at the members of his party before pulling up his hood and stareing into the fire listening intently to what the old dwarf had to say, the talk of things to come and the talk of treasure hunting which ushered in memories of his uncles stories of his time on the seas.
Krii spoke in in a calm reserved tone more akin to that of a diplomat trying not to anger a powerful dignitary
"The coin is the least of my worries but the trill of the hunt is more then enough to get me on board. Ill even take a smaller share of what we find so that the rest of the group can better equip ourselves for what we face ahead, its the least I can do to make myself of more use".
He paused for a moment before continueing
"As for the rest of our long list of things to do, there is no saying we wont run into some of the bounties or other objectives on our treasure hunt, this note we have could be the first in a long list of clues leading to a greater end then any of us imagin. I think we could keep and open mind and a careful ear while we are on the road".
Krii stayed only long enough to hear the others opinion and comments before venturing back outside the wall and going on a quiet walk to continue his thoughts of eailer all the while staying close to the post should anything happen.