It is the 10th of Arodus (August), 4707. It is Noon and there are 8 hours till sunset.
The hacking coughs sound just a little louder outside. A glum has overtaking the town.
Zova watched as Ford marched off the shop with the two vials. She gives the faintest of a smile to Laurel and the cleric before following the man from the dwarven lands. Stepping outside Zova checked her weapons and armor.Well, the scythe is okay, I suppose. Hopefully I won't have to use it; if we did get into a scuffle I would certainly prefer to use my bow.
She turns to Ford and asks, "So tell me, what you might have to offer should we run into trouble. I want to know who I have to protect in this group of ours."
She then turns to Alleran. "I simply need to make a stop to the Sheriff and let him know that I will be perusing this matter. It shouldn't take more than five minutes to be honest." And if there are no objections, she will do exactly that before returning to the group.
Ford perked up as Alleran and Zova both seemed onboard. Thank Torag, that would've been a little humiliating to march out of there along. Patting the morningstar at his waist, he smirked. "No fear of that, you can be sure. I don't just know how to make weapons, but how to use them too. I have a little divine from Torag to use as well. Have no fear."
Nodding to Zova's departure (when it happens), he turned back to Alleran. "I should be prepared for my own travels. I should even have a few extra provisions, should we need them. Odds and ends and the like."
With a nod to both ladies inside, Hound walks out the door to join those that seem to still be on board for this endeavor.
"Do you wish to know my skills as well Lady Zova, or shall they remain a mystery to the unknown?" A toothy grin follows the words, "My skills follow the path of battle, the spirits or gods deem me worthy and grant me revelations in battle." his lisp seems less prominent but the sound some more from a mouth not quite right.
"The last of my skills should wait till we're outside of town, they are a bit of a risk to expose here.
"So my lady, shall you lead the way, it seems that your the only one with business left to do before we leave. As you can see I have my pack and weapon of choice, so am ready to leave when you are." The more he talks the less he lisps but there's still something to his way of talking that says the lisp is always there as well as a bit of a stutter.
Sheriff Baleson acknowledges and agrees with Zova Lex choice.
Arriving in the lumber camp, Ford begins to ask around to any of the workers who appear to be free for information. He makes sure to note that he and his companions are looking for ingredients to cure the plague, and thanks anyone who can provide some useful tidbits.
Before heading off to the lumber camp, Zova makes sure to hide her badge of office underneath the armor as to minimize the chance someone recognizes her as law enforcement. At this point there were few people who didn't know of the Hellknight, but if she could travel undetected, she would.
She does the same, except instead of acting in a friendly manner, her questions are far more blunt and pointed, getting straight to the root of the problem with an air of authority.
Unfortunately, it seems like her approach may have alienated her from the camp workers, and realizing this, she backs off.
The Lumber Consortium Camp cuts an ugly scar of stumps into a dense stand of proud darkwood trees. Five sturdy-looking log buildings seemingly a bunkhouse, meal hall, office, barn, and smithy—stand with numerous wide carts and sleds amid the sawdust-covered clearing.
As the party approaches the camp, three surly loggers walk up to you all. After hearing Ford's and Zova Lex's requests they say that unless you want to speak with the foreman Jarlben Trookshavits, you should leave. They each have axes in their hands.
Do they seem to be following orders, or just being rude? My next action depends on my knowledge of this.
Ford finds the response mildly hostile, but then again, they are intruding on their time and picking a fight would simply cause more trouble. Trouble they didn't have time for.
Thanking the gentlemen, he asks where they can find the foremen, trying to remain on his best behavior. After all, he was representing his abbey, and unlike the others, he was the most obvious stranger in town. At least the others had some presence in town beforehand. He had just waltzed in.
You see one of them wave some other workers off.
You get the feeling that they are trying to keep the party out of the workers way.
After hearing Ford ask about the foreman, they tell you to follow them. The one in the middle stands in fount ready to guide the party, while the other two stand to the side keeping a eye on you.
Ford follows quietly along for the most part after thanking the loggers for their time, and apologizing for any intrusions. He motions to the others to tag along, trying to silently let them know to play nice for now.
After reaching wherever they find the foreman, Ford will thank the workers, before addressing the foreman himself. "Ah, my apologies for the interruption. My companions and I are aiding the town's herbalist in collecting ingredients for a cure to the plague going around. She still needs 3 more pieces found in the Vale, and we're hoping you or your men could help. We are looking for the oldest tree in the forest, the hut of a witch named... Ulimzima, I believe? And although I have a rough idea of where it is, we are looking for the ruins of a dwarven monastery. Would you be able to direct us to any of those?"
The foreman's offices is adorned with taxidermies of fierce forest animals. Jarlben Trookshavits sits behind his disk and stares at you with a look of boredom.
"And why should I care? Any worker who dies, just means I don't have to pay them." He lays out has hand palm up as if expecting something to be put there.
Ford seems legitimately stunned at the foreman's response, mouth hanging open a moment for clenching his fists. "I... are you serious!? You lead these men, do you not? Their care and well-being is in your hands!" Ford pointed a finger into Jarlben's palm, as if to emphasize the point.
Wait... business, hm? Perhaps it was time to appeal to that aspect. "...if your men die, you fall behind in production! And that's money out of your profit, yes? I can't imagine that'll look good to your higher ups..."
The Foreman grumbles and calls for someone named Milon Rhoddam.
"If anyone knows where your crap is in the woods, it will be him. Now stand outside. I have work to do."
Ford nodded, refraining from a thank you for this time, since he clearly couldn't be moved out fast enough. I had no idea this poor town slaved under such so-called 'leaders'... I may have to remain here a bit longer, simply to make sure they can survive! he thought as he stepped outside, waiting with the others for Milon to arrive.
"...truth be told, a better dwarf than myself would've said this to his face, but he has the most punchable demeanor I've stumbled across in a long time... and I've lived with surly dwarves!"
The walk and easy conversation to this lumber camp made Hound forget to reveal his secret but vows that he will do so soon in a less busy area. With that he helps his new companions in the search for information wandering around the camp but realizing that ford has found a good direction to go catches up with him.
"A quick question sir," Hounds lisp returning and his stutter a bit more present. "Have you heard anything about this witch we seek or the plague that is going around?
Zova looks at Ford and grins. "Aye, you have the right of it I think. The men and women in this town are all owned by the Lumber Consortium. Calling them criminals would be a kindness, and if there is one language they speak it is that of money." She shakes her head. "I can't imagine they would take it well if they found out I was law enforcement, so if you would keep that fact unknown..."
She stops when Ford goes to speak, not wanting to draw attention to herself.
The foreman looks at Hound. "I don't care about the plague, a few of the man got sick. Company policy is if it is not your fault you get paid. Stupid if you ask me. The man have to work harder to cover for the sick sleeping in. I don't care for no witch. Now follow your friend out. And tell him not to use up to much of Milon's time. He is a chokerman tonight."
A few minutes later, a tall blond man walks up to the party outside and nods at them. He stands there staring at the party.
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Having led the group to the lumber camp, Alleran sat back and watched the outlanders interaction with the lumberjacks. Nodding to his old foreman, he held back and let the other's ask their questions. Smirking at the cleric's shock and outrage at the foreman's behaviour, he drowned his chortle in a cough behind his hand. After they stepped back outside to find Rhoddam, he asked, "You're really not from around here, are you?"
At the tall blond man's appearance, Alleran again thinks back to his lumber days trying to remember Milon.
Shrugging at his inability to remember the man, he steps up and offers his hand. "Alleran." Nodding to the sea of stumps, he remarks, "You've made quite a dent into the wood since my time."
Ford sighed as he shook his head. "Not to worry. As soon as he spoke, I could tell what kind of slime he was. Your relation to the law will be safe with me." he assured, before folding his arms as Milon approached. His gaze shifted slightly to Alleran. "Is their indifference to their hard laborers so blatant? Deplorable lot... perhaps I will find more use for my craft here than I suspected..."
Nodding to Milon, Ford forced a smile to his face and uncrossed his arms. "Thank you for time - I've been made... painfully aware it is quite valuable. My compatriots and myself are aiding the local herbalist, gathering ingredients needed for the cure she believes will counter this plague. We're looking for a few key locations, and were told you had some knowledge of them." Ford listed off the locales, waiting and praying that this fellow could guide them in the right direction.
"Not to mention any information you might have on this witch and plague?" Hound nods to Ford as thanks for the opening. It seems to all that Hound while can and will talk is not one to lead. From the way he's been acting it seems he's prone to give deference to people with a strong force of will.
"Was scout." Milon shakes Alleran's hand. "Still am scout. Twisted foot. Working light duly."
Chokerman is one of the hardest jobs in logging. They must fit the chain around the log. The chain allows the logs to be dragged.
Most of the trees cut in the front are not of high quality. So many loggers have to hunt down good quality trees and haul them back from deeper in the woods. To speed that along, scouts find and mark high quality trees.
The choppers and scouts have to deal with more wild beast as they go deeper in the woods. While the choppers travel in groups (as the logs would be to heavy to carry back alone), many scouts travel the woods alone.
Alleran does not remember Milon, but most lumber jacks don't spend much time around scouts.
After hearing Ford speak, the party can see a smile on Milon's face. He rips a page of paper off a notice board next to the office. He pulls a piece of chalk from behind her ear and start to draw. A few moments later he hands it to Ford.
On the sheet of paper the party can see a map with a few places marked.
Milon turns to Hound last and nods. "Nephew is sick. Went to witch, but witch not home. Got ambushed by trolls on way back. Twisted foot."
Zova's mouth twists into a sneer. Those crooks have him working on a twisted foot? While the man is drawing a map, she kneels down behind him and quickly casts cure light wounds, touching his foot while the positive energy surrounds her hands.
She stands up and nods. "We don't want you getting even more hurt on the job, now do we? You might still feel some pain, but it should be much better now."
Trolls...Don't know trolls....hmmm "Lady Zova, Ford and Alleran," Hound struggles with ALleran's name, "Sorry, I'm not familiar with trolls in par..part...par.tic.ular. Do you happen to know anything about them?"
With a shake, "Sorry Milon is it, would you happen to know anything, I'm sure you have had to deal with them while working in this area?"
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Alleran smiles at the large man. "Scouting is no easy task. They must have been some trolls."
He looks at the scout's map checking it against his own recollection for the witch's hut and ruins. He notes the location of the tree in the wood, using the other two landmarks and the camp's location to mark it's place. "Yeah, I can find that."
At Hound's question Alleran shrugs, "I've never seen a troll. Still, Milon said he was ambushed by some and he managed to best them with only a slight limp to show for it."
The man nods to Zova Lex. "Thank you," he says before turning to Alleran. "Not beat, run. Not looking were I was going. Twisted foot. If got hurt by trolls, Consortium would pay and have time off. Trolls are big, but dumb."
He points to the map. "You find what you need to save my nephew and others. Quickly."
You don't know anything about troll.
Ford nods in response. "You're a brave man. We'll find those ingredients. Your nephew is as good as safe." Truthfully, Ford didn't entirely believe himself on that one, but he'd never admit it - saying otherwise would diminish what little hope these poor folk had left. As Father Denwell told him... a great chance of failure should not deter you from pursuing something.
"Indeed. If they're anything like the trolls I've heard stories of, you don't simply best them in straight battle. Besides, we lack the time. The more fighting we can avoid, the faster we can gather those ingredients. Let's move out." Ford allowed someone else to lead the way through the forest. Being the outsider, it made better sense to let someone who knew their way around here.
Zova noticably lingers at the gate, and it is quite clear that she has not much experience outside of urban emvironments. "I uh... I don't suppose the lot of you know much about navigation?"
I do not, but I do believe that Alleran has worked in this area. Maybe he can lead us onto the right path. As soon as their out of ear shot of the camp Hound his speech returns to the clearer and less stutter laden.
Once the camp is in the distance, Hound stops. I should have showed this too you before we got here and I need to show you before something happens so your not surprised and react in the worst way for myself.
Taking a step forward he turns towards them slowly raising his hands to the cowl of his cloak.
Now try not to kill me and hear me out, with that he lowers the cowl exposing the remnants of his exposure to the werekin. A slight mussel, covered in a short fur, is exposed were his mouth and nose should be. Yellow flecked blue eyes sit above it, staring down showing his embarrassment. Dirty blonde hair cut short but with similar color patches matching the mussel sits in a mess atop his head.
ta da....?
Zova narrows his eyes at the man, not exactly sure what she is looking at. "What manner of humanoid are you? Some exotic race from Mwangi? Or have you been cursed by some abberation or demonspawn?"
Ford blinked as Hound revealed his face, showing off his feral features and clearly trying not to incite any anger. For his part, Ford was more curious than cautious, but he watched to make sure his compatriots didn't do anything excessive.
"You're... a werewolf? ...no, that can't be it. You have too much human on you to be that. So you're a... half-werewolf?" Ford asked, tilting his head.
Zova turns to Ford and whispers. "Nay, I've heard that some breeds of werewolves can take human form... perhaps he is stuck in between such a transformation..."
Stunned at their response, Hound starts to chuckle. "No my lady I am human as far as healers can tell," a wolf like grin spreads across his face. "As to its source, yes Ford I have been touched by the curse but healers confirm it might be the cause of the disfigurement, I'm not infected."
He proceeds to tell the story of which how his mother was infected but cured before it became an issue, but as he was an unborn child they didn't know what kind of effect it would have on him.
"To be honest I think it also has something to do with my gift for battle and magic. A curse for the lack of a better term, for the power I was given."
Zova closes here eyes, thinking of the book of laws within Falcon's Hollow. "Well, technically, there is no law covering this matter... I suppose all should be fine adventuring with you..." She opens her eyes, clearly examining the snout. "But to be honest, I will stick on the other side of the group. It's nothing against you, I just don't... know anything about your affliction and would rather not take a chance."
Ford nodded in agreement, listening along to the story and looking over at Zova. "I have no concerns. You've shown restraint all day, I have no reason to believe you'll just suddenly snap and attack someone."
Ford held up a finger, waving it back and forth at Hound. "It's power, plain and simple. Back at the abbey, we have a saying: 'A weapon is only as good as the smith who forged it.' You may see your... condition as a curse, but you have chosen to use it to save a village from death. Choices like that are strikes from a smith's hammer - with more of them, your 'curse' will take shape into something remarkable. I can only hope it's something you find pride in."
Ford pondered that advice a bit, perhaps realizing how horribly cliche that sounded, before shrugging. "Eh, I never was cut out for preaching."
"My lady I understand, and Ford your preaching is fine. I know were your thoughts were headed with those remarks. I choose cures as it easily describes what this is." With a toothy grin, "As for the snapping, I save that for my enemies.
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Alleran looks quizzically at the others as they began to traipse off into the trees. Looking up at the rapidly darkening sky, he pulls out an oddly shaped piece of metal. Putting it to his mouth, he blows into it. A barely audible sound issues forth. Replacing the whistle to his pouch, he pulls a large heavy leather glove off of his belt and slips it onto his right arm. Raising it skyward, he waits. A short time later a dark brown eagle swoops down out of the sky, alighting on Alleran's upraised arm.
Seeing that his traveling companions have not stopped, he moves to follow them. Folks, I know you're more used to Falcon's Hollow, but when the sun goes down while we're in a settlement, it's usually smarter to... What in the hells?!" The ranger stops short at the sight of the wolf-man.
Hound sighs as he realizes that Alleran wasn't paying attention. taking the next few minutes to again state the information to the party.
"If your worried that what i say is false, i can expose myself to silver," Hound takes the moment to draw a bit of his blade, showing it to be silver. Placing his hand on the blade he holds it there long enough that a reaction burn would show when he reveals it to the party.
"Anything else i can do to make any of you more at ease, tell me I will do my best to accommodate."
Zova rubs her temples. "No, no, never mind... If only I hadn't lost the ability to look into a person's soul, I could tell if the corruption has gotten you... alas, the beatings from those devil worshipers took that power out of me." She turns to the party members and sigh, suggesting they move on. "Anyways, we are losing time. We can see about curing you once this blight has stopped."
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"Um, yeah, okay..." The corporal lamely replies to the afflicted man.
To the hellknight Alleran replies, "As I was saying, no sane person goes traipsing off into the woods at night; especially with three green horns in tow. Did you hear Scout Rhoddam talk about running away from an ambush of trolls? Any of you care to try that in the pitch black of a forest in the middle of the night? Let's sleep in the camp tonight where we can take advantage of a relatively safe night's rest and set out at first light when we can actually see our feet."
The ranger nods back to the camp and begins heading back.
There are tales people who were cured of Lycanthrope in time, but still leaving marks on them or their descendants. Some marks are purely metal, like predatory instincts. Other marks are more physical, sharper teeth.
Ford grimaced as Alleran's suggestion of waiting for daylight. The longer they took, the more people could be dying... still, being their navigator, his advice shouldn't be taken lightly. Wait... lightly...? "If the pitch black is a concern, I can resolve that easily." Ford said, pulling out his morningstar and striking into the ground, watching as it lit up brightly, even in the evening glare. "Forests may not be my forte, but I grew up among dwarves! You tread in darkness on a regular basis!"
"Even so... if you think it better to wait until morning, I will defer to your experience. But I doubt we'll get any rest staying so close to this wood camp. Their foreman seems... how do I put this... he's got a face even a slurk would find unlikable."
The hellknight nods at Ford's assertions. "I agree with you. The longer we wait and rest easy, the longer the infected have to suffer. Think of those people slowly dying as we speak." Her face turns stoney. "I am not about to let this town fall into chaos." With that, she activates a light spell on her bow. "I have fought devils in single combat. I have faced the torments of the Prince of Darkness... I fear not a bit of darkness and trees."
"I'm with Lady Zova and Ford, Master Alleran," glancing at both of the lighted weapons."Now I wish I was granted either that power or a wolfs vision." Raising his eyebrows up and down quickly, "Unfortunately I didn't get wolf like eyes to go with handsome mug of mine. The color is there a bit but not the skills."
He chuckles at his very bad joke, but places a hand on the hilt of his blade to make sure its ready for anything.
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"So instead of stumbling blindly in the dark, you want to create a beacon for the predators to find us? As an added benefit, we'll have been hiking all day and all night before we get to the first of our three destinations. Does anyone know how the witch will respond to our presence? I don't. Does anyone know what to expect in those ruins? I don't. Do you want to be worn out and tired when we get there? I don't. More lives hinge upon our failure than our success."
Again Alleran nods back to the camp. "What's Trookshavits going to tell us? No, we cannot stay in the camp. Pfff! He'll grumble and say okay because he knows what's good for him and that doesn't include continuing to pay sick workers to stay in bed or losing workers back in town. Now, I'm not your commander nor am I your boss. I'm not telling you what you have to do. I'm staying the night in camp. In the morning, I'm going to go find those ingredients. I'll likely see you one way or the other. Good night."