Chapter One, Part Two: The Road to Brinewall

Previous topic - Next topic

TheTick

The sun has barely crested the horizon, and already the caravan yard is bustling.  Sandru and the other drivers are checking and re-checking the ropes holding down the cargo and provisions, as well as checking on the horses.  Satisfied, he helps Koya with her gear and makes sure she's settled comfortably in the Fortune Teller's wagon.

Ameiko give some last minute instructions to the staff at the Rusty Dragon, wearing her leather armor instead of her normal garb.  Strapped to her belt is a rapier and several daggers, and she has her samisen as well.  Sandru arrives at the door just as one of the cooks presses a package into Ameiko's hands.  The caravanmaster watches for a moment, then says, "It's time."  Ameiko nods, says her goodbyes, and strides out the door.

...

Just before setting out, Sandru takes the scouts aside and gives them a rundown of what he expects.  "While travelling, I expect you to be scanning the horizon for signs of ambush or other road troubles - washed out bridges, fallen trees, that sort of thing.  Faraway, if your Roc can keep an eye out from above, that will be a huge help.  When we are stopped, one of you will continue ahead for a ways - I'll make sure there's plenty of food left when you get back, don't worry.  I don't expect much trouble for the first several days, as the Lost Coast road is well-traveled here, but once we are closer to Brinewall, all bets are off."

Once everyone is ready, Sandru urges the horses attached to his wagon forward, and the rest follow out of habit.  The trip has begun.  At first, there's some traffic to dodge here and there on the road - and Sandru seems to know everyone, greeting them by name.  But by midday, you are alone, and the true monotony of caravan travel becomes apparent to you.  As if on cue, Sandru, Bevelek and Vankor begin telling stories to whoever is close enough to hear.  Adventure stories, mostly, and often exagerated to hilarious extreme.  Ameiko takes to this immediately, playing backing music to enhance the drama when appropriate.

Spoiler: ShowHide
No encounter roll today, but I will do one for future days coming up - just need you guys to firm up what you are spending the caravan improvement money on, any hires you may be making, and roles for Jeddy and Horcrust.  Also, Ameiko loves exciting stories, so anyone wishing to get in her good graces can try and come up with one during the trip.
Babies, chum: tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that we parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope. And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby, or evil will make an interception!

Lotofsnow

Having received his instructions, Faraway skillfully turns his horse around. He hops off and loops the reigns around a railing on one of the wagons, fastening the horse securely, but leaving it some slack. Then, the druid trots off the road, about a hundred yards from the rest of the caravan. He pulls this whistle from his pocket, and blows into it soundlessly.

A puff of white cloud detaches from the sky, spiraling down to land adjacent to the druid. Faraway talks to Neith, instructing her to call out signs of travelers on or around the road. He smooths the feathers on her head affectionately before turning around and returning to the group as the great bird once again takes flight.

As he unfastens his horse's reigns, he says:

"Horses aren't yet used to having Neith around. I'd hate to cause a disturbance on our first day. Instinct, you know? Hopefully, over time, they will come to welcome her as one of their own. Horses can be like that."

He swings back into the saddle and negotiates his mount into a position well ahead of the caravan.

TheTick

#2
Sandru nods sagely at Faraway's words.  "These horses have seen many things, but a bird as large as a man is not one of them."

Morning - Day 4

The first several days of travel pass without incident, and soon you are approaching the small town of Galduria.  Sandru explains that grain is plentiful here, though it's true claim to fame is it's college, the Twilight Academy.  The Academy is difficult to miss, the massive stone structure seeming out of place with the more pastoral scenery.
Babies, chum: tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that we parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope. And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby, or evil will make an interception!

SpamHead

"Pft, I don't see anything interesting about a bunch of wizards" Horcrust manages to put only a little contempt in "learning how to use magic to copy people born with the ability."

Phil

"Well we are interested in their grain, at the very least.  And if any wish to book passage."

Porteiro

Jeddy is content to let others take care of the details of running the caravan, and keeps his peace while smoking his pipe.

TheTick

Asking around town finds one scholar looking for passage to Roderic's Cove.  He tells you that he'll pay 20 gold pieces if you can guarantee his safe passage through Wolf's Ear and onto his destination.
Babies, chum: tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that we parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope. And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby, or evil will make an interception!

TheTick

Sandru looks quite pleased as the caravan pulls out of Galduria.  Made a bit of profit, found a paying passenger, and the caravan is in good shape.  Though the gray skies hint at rain, spirits are up.  The passenger's name is Dayen, an Elven herbalist who works at the Academy.

The caravan comes upon Wolf's Ear at the middle of the following day.  The unassuming townsfolk are warm and helpful...and Dayen refuses to come out of the wagon the entire time.  With little business to do here, Sandru and the other drivers water the horses and take a short respite, before getting back on the road.  Dayen looks visibly relieved to escape the town alive, and sheepishly admits that he'd heard stories about Wolf's Ear being a haven for werewolves.  Sandru walks up to the Elf, claps him on the back and says quietly, "It is."  He winks and walks away laughing.  Dayen, for his part, smiles back but you can see him swallowing nervously, and looking behind the caravan.  The camp that night ends up being a dreary affair, as the gray skies give way to a drizzly rain.

The sky clears in the early morning, and the caravan manages to get underway on time.  The road takes you along the outskirts of the Churlwood, a dense forest that runs the rest of the way to Roderic's cove.  Dayen speaks at length about the flora and fauna in the wood to anyone that listens - apparently he intends to find some of the Druids who live in the wood and learn from them.

The journey seems to be taking it's toll on Ameiko.  She's a bit pale, and you can't help but notice that her sleep has been plagued by dreams.
Babies, chum: tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that we parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope. And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby, or evil will make an interception!

SpamHead

"Ameiko, is something wrong? If it is just about Brinewall, all of us together can easily fix anything wrong and learn what the true nature of the things in the note."

Horcrust tries to get her to talk about it, as he himself seriously doubts she is just worrying more than before.

Diplomacy 1d20+4 : 14+4 = 18

TheTick

Ameiko brushes off Horcrust's concern with a casual wave. "Me?  I'm fine, I think trail food just doesn't agree with me any more.  Tavernkeeping made me soft." She smiles.

Babies, chum: tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that we parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope. And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby, or evil will make an interception!

TheTick

Horcrust is about to respond when there's a sharp whistle from up ahead, where Faraway and Shalelu are ranging.  Looking up, he sees the Druid's Roc dive into the forest, squawking.  "Bandits!"  Sandru shouts, and they come pouring out of the forest.

(There's only one set of actions for each side - if you want me to roll it all, I can, and just write up a narrative of the results.  Just let me know either way, or if you want to try and outrun them.)
Babies, chum: tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that we parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope. And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby, or evil will make an interception!

Porteiro

"Do you think we can just outrun them?  If it's all the same, I'd rather not have to kill them, bandits or no" Jeddy says.

SpamHead

Horcrust shrugs, "Running would be a good idea, this caravan is not the sturdiest out there and I don't want to damage it for no reason."

Phil

"I do not relish the though of fleeing from such rabble, and our wagons are not swift...  But I see no reason not to attempt it.  If we are unable to avoid a conflict, let it at least be said that we tried.  Before blood was spilled."

Lotofsnow

"I am in agreement. We won't be intimidated into battle. Let us fly like the wind."