The next morning dawns cool and sunny. A brisk breeze blows out of the
southeast.
After breakfast, Tragon, Bryana, Fianna, Talbot and Thrwyn make
preparations to depart Hochoch for Orlane, which is several day's walk
away.
"Good morning all. Bryana you are looking rather nice this fine
morning" Thrwyn says. Turning to Fiana, he continues, "Miss I
didn't mean
to offend you last night. We were all just having a good time. If how
I
talk offends you I am sorry I just sort of do that when around women.
They
seem to like it most of the time."
Thrwyn says with a grin. "If you would prefer I didn't to you just
say so."
"Thrwyn, I never ask a gentleman to mind his manners - I just assume
he
will. In your case it was obviously my mistake." replies Fianna.
Bryana frowns.
"Hey now my manners are very good. I was just having some fun like
I
said earlier. I now know that you don't like it so I won't bother you
again with it. Again I am sorry for my earlier mouth."
Bryana, the golden-haired elf, smiles and shakes her head. "No
apologies needed for me. I think we should can the whole thing and save
it for nasties we are bound to encounter."
Fianna nods in agreement over the discussion about letting the discussion
drop. Fianna lets the party know that she is prepared to leave with the
rest of the travelling group.
Zendar finds the group and asks Tragon "I wish to travel to Orlane
and
would appreciate the chance to do so with you and your party. I have found
it best to travel in numbers rather than alone."
Tragon nods and extends his arm. "Yes, as Bryana, has pointed out,
we should take all comers as we have need of help in the coming days.
Join us and be welcome. I am Tragon the Faithful, a paladin of St.
Cuthbert. And you are?"
"My name is Zendar and am gratefull to you and your party."
Hearing her name, Bryana turns and watches the conversation.
Tragon chuckles. "'Tis not my party, Zendar. I just have the
biggest mouth! And there's no need to feel grateful to any of us.
It isn't safe to travel the roads alone and the larger the group, the
less likely we'll be attacked."
Tragon frowns. "Hmmm... I guess that's a good thing, although I'd
hate to miss out on a good fight. Especially when we'd be ridding
the road of some brigands or orcs."
He shrugs. "Oh well, guess it can't be helped. Wouldn't want to
put
anyone else in danger for my own enjoyment, you know... Oh, and what
did you say your profession was?"
Bryana smiles at Tragon's last question..but remains silent.
Puzzled, Zendar answers "I've been traveling for some time. Wandering
from
place to place and have yet to decide on a calling which will meet my needs."
"A jack-of-all trades as it were? Can you fight, cast magic or heal
the wounded? Just want to know in case we have to fight."
"I'll fight if I have to, but please if you don't mind no more questions.
I hope you understand, but being a paladin I'm sure you do. Again I mean
no disrespect but wish to keep my business my own."
Tragon scratches his head. "Why does everyone have to be so
secretive?"
He shrugs. "You're not required to tell us you're business, just
thought you'd want to considering we're heading the same path. Guess
we'll find out how well you can fight, if it comes to that."
Bryana nods and says, "Of that I think you're right, Tragon."
As introductions and preparations continue, the door to the inn opens and
a
middle-aged man enters. He looks like a farmer, though he wears a longsword.
A tall man with broad shoulders and a pretty smile is talking to
everyone around him, barely pausing for breaths. His blonde hair is
shoulder length and his green eyes can make even a serving maid blush.
He wears chainmail and his shield has a fighting hawk painted on it.
A longsword is on his left hip and a few knives are scattered on his
belt.
He notices you. "Hey, now, looks like you're just off the farm.
Looking for adventure? We're headed to Orlane to check out the
rumors and find a little excitement. I'm Tragon the Faithful, a
paladin of St. Cuthbert. The others here are Bryana, Fianna, Talbot,
Thrwyn and Zendar. But, I'll let them introduce themselves to you."
One of the company..a beautiful golden haired female elf with violet eyes
nods to the newcommer. She is dressed in dark clothing, but you notice
her
leather armor and the daggers that she has tucked in about her waits.
You
also note the short sword at her side. She looks like she wants to
introduce herself, but waits for Tragon to finish.
"Do you need any rations or anything? We're heading out right now
and
it'll take a couple of days to get there. Unless you have a horse, of
course, because they move faster. Unfortunately, most of us don't
seem to have mounts, so we'll be walking. And, as a few have
pointed out, it's much safer to travel together, to keep the bandits
and others away. Still, that'll likely make for a boring trek..."
He pauses realizing that he hasn't let you speak a word. "Now, what
was your name?"
The newcomer nods. "Well met, Tragon. I am Lornard Braumer, a Ranger
from
the Grand Duchy of Geoff. What are these rumors in Orlane you speak of?
I
have not heard them myself."
Lornard is a moderately tall (an inch or two over six feet), broad man
who
looks like he would be just as at home behind a plough as he would wandering
amongst the woods. His several-inch long straight brown hair is shot
through with grey, and that together with the worry lines creasing his
brow
and the sides of his eyes lead you to conclude that he is in his early
or
mid fifties, although he is still in excellent physical shape. His blue
eyes convey a distance, with an infinite sadness hidden somewhere behind
them.
He wears leather armor. Over that is a belted dark green tunic, from which
hangs the scabbard for his longsword and a pouch. Over that is a brown
hooded cloak, although he currently wears that cloak open. On his back
is a
backpack with a blanket rolled atop it, and a quiver with a score of
arrows. He carries with him a long bow.
Tragon smiles widely. "A ranger, you say? Welcome, Lornard. A
ranger we can use. Need someone who knows the forests and such."
"Rumors? Well, let's see. People going to bed and not being there
in the morning. Families disappearing from their homes. People
returning, but not having any recollection of where they've been.
Fang marks on necks. All the usual nonsense. I'm sure there's
something sinister behind it, but not as unorganized as the rumors
would have people believe."
"But, that's only my belief. I've no proof."
Lornard's mouth takes a grim set. "This town, Orlane, what is it
like? I
will travel with you, to investigate these rumors."
Tragon shrugs. "Never been to Orlane. Probably like most towns.
It's only a few days from here, so the people can't be much
different."
He turns back towards the rest of the group. "Hey! Anyone ever been
to Orlane?"
A short, stocky young man with a large, patrician, almost
swollen-looking nose walks toward the newcomer. He tugs a crumpled
green-and-brown plaid cap over his dark hair, tucks his knotted cudgel
in the crook of his left arms and reaches out with his right hand.
"Well met, stranger, I hope you caught all that," he chuckles
gleefully
at the overzealous paladin, "Our friend Tragon seems a bit eager to
get
under way. I am Talbot Stoutley, a priest in the service of St.
Cuthbert."
"Lornar, Zendar - greetings, I am Fianna, acolyte of Aerdrie Faenya
and a beginning magic-user.
She wears travelling leathers, has no visible weapons, two small pouches
are attached to her belt. She wears three earrings, two in one ear - all
have feathers of some type attached. She also has a few feathers attached
to small braids in her long dark hair. She could be very attractive but
her rough appearance makes it difficult for any males to determine.
"Fianna, should we be attacked on the road, try to stay towards the
middle of the party. You spells will be more effective if we can buy
you time to cast them."
"Good morning to you fine sir. The name is Thrwyn."
You notice that Thrwyn has many weapons on him. But the most noticiable
thing about him is his eyes. They are grey with gold flecks in them.
He
wears chainmail and his pack seems to have a squarish bit about it.
Bryana then turns to Lornard herself and extends her hand in greeting.
"Hi, I'm Bryana."
Ready at last, you depart The Tower and begin your journey.
From Hochoch, you ford the Realstream and follow a caravan track that winds
along the south side of the river for about five miles. The weather is
cool
but sunny...good for travelling. The land about here is shortgrass
prairie...flat and grassy, though the grass is brown at this time of year.
Occasionally, large cottonwoods trees grow along the river, but in general
the plain is unforested.
By mid-to-late morning, the Realstream has curved northwards, while you
have stayed on the track, which is now running east-northeast.
At about this time you see movement behind you. Coming up the road behind
you at a fast trot is Krista, the half-elf waitress from the inn, who
helped to calm down matters last night with the bard.
She stops when she finally catches up with you.
Bryana turns and walks over to Krista. "I was wondering if you'd make it.", she says with a grin.
However, Tragon's sword is halfway out of its sheath. "I remember you. Something wrong back at the inn? Was it attacked? Or have you come to warn us about an ambush ahead in the road?"
"I think she wants to accompany us.", says Byana.
Tragon sounds disappointed. "Oh, well..."
The Half-Elven woman slows to a walk and smiles at the Cudgel's holy warrior's comments. "No, everything's fine as far as I know. I have come to join you in the investigation of Orlane's troubles," she says with her breath a bit heavy.
He sighs and pushes his sword back into its sheath. "Oh well, maybe later."
Bryana pats Targon on the shoulder. "Don't worry big boy, I'm sure there will be plenty of time for you to prove yourself in the near future."
Tragon looks at Bryana and grins. "Maybe tonight?"
"Oh knows...anything's possible", grins Bryana.
"I offered my aid last night after the first cheer to Orlane and would've left with you this morning except that I still had chores to do at the inn."
"Sorry we left you behind", offers Bryana, "I'll be sure that doesn't happen again."
"You should've said something this morning. I honestly forgot about anything you said last night. Welcome!"
"Thanks and well met. As for forgetting about last night, I wasn't very adamant about it, so it was no wonder to me that you wouldn't remember."
Bryana nods.
Krista is clearly outfitted for adventure and travel. She is armed with a longsword at her left side and has a travel pack across her back. The pack's most distinguishing feature is the sheaf of arrows protruding from it. Krista seems to have no bow. There is a bedroll underneath the pack and a good length of rope tied to its side.
She is wearing a hardened leather breastpiece as armor and leather pants and boots. Her hair is tied back, out of her face.
"I thought you might want my help. I'm Krista of the Cresent Moon."
Bryana bows and then laughs. "Nice title Krista. I'm Bryana, in case you didn't catch my name last night."
"Is that an order or something?"
"I don't tend to give orders," Krista says with a grin. "I like to let people find their own paths. Oh, you mean the name! Sorry... See," she says holding out her hand, "I have had this ring for just over 20 years." The ring is silver with a crudely cut sapphire in the shape of a cresent. "It was given to me by a former lover, and I keep it in his memory."
Krista turns to each of the group in turn and gives greetings...
Krista looks happy and carefree. She smiles.
"Well, I guess we should continue. Let's go!"
You resume your trek, though you note that Zendar does not seem to be with you.
The rest of the day's travel is uneventful. As evening draws near you leave the road and find shelter for the night in a large clump of bushes. Trees are more plentiful here, and to the north you can just make out the dark lines of a woodland: the Dim Forest.
At this time, Zendar rejoins you...apparently having been scouting the route ahead.
The night passes uneventfully.