Soren listens bemused to the story by the... server? Anthologist? Author? Werewolf-descendent? Anyway, he listens to the tale about divine magic curing lycanthropy and the antidote being misattributed to true love. The most human of misattributions.
When Giles of the Scratching Hand mentions Tymora, Soren murmurs a prayer as his mother had taught him.
"I hope that Lady Luck will Bless us in the days and nights to come. I will also pray for that if you will, not-Father Giles."
Soren nods farewell Burr and Zefla and turns to make his way back just out of town, to sleep once more in the same wooded copse outside the gates of the big city. Vowing he would wake before dawn and be ready at the Caravan Gates (and wishing he had not drunk the Delimbyr brown ale).
We can presume that all of you are within walking distance tonight of wherever you call home, whether that is a humble shack outside the city walls, a rented room in town, or the hayloft of a barn. As an alternative, The River Shining has three rooms available. They are far and away the nicest rooms in town, and usually outside of your budgets at an eye-popping 5gp per night. But if anyone feels that 25gp burning a hole in your pockets, that option is there.
Assuming you leave The River Shining, you would all be able to see the tiefling woman sitting at the ornate long bar in the main room of the tavern, a large glass of wine at her side, engaged in conversation with the bartender.
The heavy food, wine and beer, a long day behind you, and the promise of a longer day ahead of you tomorrow call all of you to your beds.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Zefla barely sleeps that night, too excited for the journey ahead. Wondering if since these creatures can turn whenever they want, whether they'll run into the human form and not know it first? This was unlike any other mission she had been on and she couldn't wait.
As soon as she could, she packed her things and headed out to the Caravan Gates, looking forward to meeting up with the rest, and to meet the squire, the only one the group hadn't met yet.
Soren tries to avoid staring at the tiefling woman at the guilded bar on his way out and does not entirely succeed.
The earliest pre-dawn birdcalls wake him in a copse of trees outside Daggerford. Brushing off the worst of the leaves and twigs, he cleans himself off at nearby creek feeding the Delimbiyr river, take a healthy drink and fills his waterskin. He bids a quiet farewell to the animals nearby.
Arriving at the Caravan Gates, coming from the outside the city, he expects to be the first, only to find Zefla already there. He smiles at her, but does not speak so as not to spoil the stillness and quiet of the morning. Besides, he senses that he had talked entirely too much the previous night. That Delimbiyr Brown Ale... I always think I'm just having a sip and end up draining it all like a bear cub with honey. He puts a hand to his head, feeling a slight, dull ache.
Burr, levered himself up, did a perfunctory check for lice and scratched himself before heading out of the stable to meet up with the rest, seeing that two of them had beaten him to the gates he nodded good morning to them.
Giles lingers behind as everyone else leaves for the night, and then wanders over to the bar for a nightcap. He sits further down the bar and keeps to himself, but from time to time his eyes watch the tiefling, out of curiosity. As he heads off to bed for the night, he says his prayers, for the ability to bless his companions and protect them. The coin that was constantly in his hand he puts away in his pouch for safekeeping and he lies down for a fitful sleep, punctuated by periodic laughs, restless legs and a strange grin on his face.
He’s the last to arrive at the Caravan Gates, stretching as he begins to walk toward the group, then gathering himself to look the part, to be what is expected. His hair is tousled with definite bed head but his leather armor is on straight and his shield is slung over his back. He walks up to Soren, Burr and Zefla, saying with a grin, “Blessings to you all. Are you ready for what this day holds?”
Giles grins and a slightly wicked smile crosses his face, he pulls out the coin you saw before and flips it, catches it and looks at the result in an easy flowing fashion, a common habit with him. “Wish to place bets lads? Live or die? C’mon now Mr. Fusswicket, we’ll be fine! My Lady hasn’t let me down yet!” He pauses, considering with a pensive look. “Yet.”
As usual, Soren has trouble picking up on verbal cues of irony or facetiousness. To Burr's comment on the critters eating you, he answers:
"Don't worry, Burr. I think if I understood the pack leader, ah... Sir Rowan Caskbow, it's not being eaten by werewolves that is the issue so much as turning into one of them if they bite us. Spreading the curse of Lycanthropy I think he said? Though maybe being killed or eaten would cure that..."
In your time spent at the bar, you hear bits and pieces of Tourmaline's conversation. She seems to be engaging in a little barkeep therapy, complaining about how no one understands the difficulty that comes from being a descendant of the Devil of Gluttony, and that is it so hard to be "on" all of the time.
For his part, the bartender is calm and discreet enough that his own comments and commentary are not loud enough to reach your ears.
After a bitterly cold night, the air is warmer this morning, bringing a promise of more comfortable traveling weather today. Unfortunately the thaw has also turned the roads into an even muddier mess than normal, and the few carts already moving at this hour leave deep ruts and muddy puddles. The temperature change has also left a thin layer of mist clinging to the ground. It looks likely to burn off but for now it blankets the area outside the Caravan Gate and gives the landscape an ethereal quality.
The four of you don't have to wait long before the rest of your party appears. Madame Bauer is seated on the back of a strong and healthy grey and white horse; the saddle blanket shows the colors of the Church of Amaunator. Leading the horse by the reins is a young man of perhaps 16. He has short black hair and wears quality leather armor. On his back is a huge pack, seemingly more fit for a mule, but he carries it without obvious difficulty or complaint. Also lashed to his back is a set of javelins and a poleaxe. Following just behind is Sir Rowan. He has forgone his chainmail and is instead wearing a handsome set of ornate studded leather traveling armor. A longsword is sheathed at his hip.
"Wonderful! It is good to see all of you, up and ready to hit the road hard," says Sir Rowan as way of greeting. "You know Madame Bauer. Allow me to introduce my squire, Jhon Trollbark."
"Good morn, sirs," the young man says. He dips his head a bit toward Zeflan. "Miss."
"The boy is still in his training but is capable in the field. He's also been studying lycanthrope fighting styles - right, Jhon?"
The boy grins and nods. "Of course." As he nods his head, a jingling from the huge pack confirms that the knight's chainmail armor is at least a portion of what is bundled up inside.
As they draw closer, you see Madame Bauer has her hood drawn, shielding much of her face, her horns protruding from custom gaps in the top. From what you can see of her expression, she looks to be having a rough morning.
"You all look ready. Shall we depart?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
As the others arrive and the squire dips his head towards the halfling, she smiles, "Well, would ya look at that! We're traveling with one who has manners!"
Looking at Madame Bauer, she debates trying to help her out, figuring she has a hangover, but decides to hold her tongue, unsure if she'd be receptive to it or not.
Soren considers apologizing to Lady Tourmaline Bauer but decides that since she looks worse than he feels, now might not be the time.
He does seem momentarily confused about Sir Rowan Caskbow wishing to "hit the road hard." Soren looks at the road, then at his fist, then back at the road. He licks his lips uncertainly and subconsciously rubs his temple to ease the ache there from the Delimbiyr Brown Ale.
He shoulders his pack and wooden shield. "Let's go."
GIles gives Sir Rowan a thumbs up, saying “Ready to go.” He starts to walk forward, eventually wandering close to Jhon as they walk forward on their path. “You’ve studied lycanthrope fighting styles, eh? How have you studied them? Were you able to observe one, or has there been anything written about this? Any suggestions for young, budding lycanthrope hunters?” He grins, looking over at his mates.
Giles carefully observes his reply as he responds, listening for truth, and to make sure that he hasn’t “studied” them by being one of them…
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
3
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Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
A heavy wagon drawn by a team of oxen sets out a few minutes before you do. By the time your party ventures forth from the Caravan Gate of Daggerford, the wagon has already hit the Trade Way and made the turn south. Despite its size, the power of the oxen allow them to make just slightly better time than you on foot. For most of the morning as you head south, the wagon is visible in the distance, pulling slowly further and further ahead.
Jhon grins boldly at Giles questions. "The temple Sir Rowan serves has a small library collecting memoirs and histories of some of their holy knights. Within are contained tales of encounters with various beasts and aberrations, including werewolves. Sir Rowan arranged for me to have access to the library where I was able to read up on the subject. The scrolls discussed the pack tactics of the werewolves, their infectious bite, and their ability to shapeshift at will." He pats the poleaxe fastened to his back. "A silvered weapon is your best friend against them. Keep that blade up and make them eat it instead of you." Looking up, you can see a silverly sheen on his blade.
Anyone listening (Giles included) would notice the boy's answer is confident but also purposefully general and vague. A skeptical person might get the impression he didn't spend as much time on his homework as he lets on. Perhaps his confidence is well-placed... despite the heavy pack he is not slowed and doesn't seem to be tiring any faster than the rest of you. Sir Rowan has taken an interest in your line of questioning as well. "I hope you learned more than just that, Jhon. We're more than capable of handling this, but that doesn't mean it isn't dangerous. If you plan on earning knighthood before you're 30, you need to prepare... and that involves books as much as it does the training yard."
The walk is a slog. The road is mostly densly packed dirt or gravel, but there are many spots where looser soils intrude into the path. Here, mud sucks at your boots and it takes twice as much effort to go half as far. The mists break after a few hours, giving a better view of the surroundings. The Trade Way is wide enough for wagons to pass going in both directions, with room to spare. Much of the lands south of Daggerford are farms and livestock ranches, with occasional patches of forest in between. Where woods do encroach on the Trade Way, trees and brush are kept cut back 100' from the road to protect against ambush from bandits or goblinoids.
Around mid morning, you pass a few travelers coming in the other direction. A small cart full of bricks is pulled by a mule, driven by a pair of young man who could be brothers. Later a single traveler in foreign clothing passes by. As he does so, Madame Bauer tells Jhon to stop and she dismounts for the first time, landing with a splaunch in the brown mud. She approaches the stranger and he smiles at her silently. "Excuse me, sir. You have the look of one who has traveled many miles. If I might trouble you for but a moment, could you tell me if you have seen this man in your recent travels? He may have had others with him, covered head-to-toe in robes or cloaks?" The stranger takes both of her hands and grips them tightly for a moment, as way of greeting, and then looks at a parchment scroll she unfurls and shows to him. He looks at it thoughtfully for a moment, but then shakes his head with a sad expression. Madame Bauer pockets the scroll, thanks the man, and returns to her horse. The group continues south.
For those inclined to observe the stranger, History DC 12:
From the traveler's garb and his manner of greeting, he would appear to be a native of Tethyr, a nation many leagues to the south of here.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Zefla is surprised when the tiefling actually gets down off her high horse and into the mud with the rest of them. She watches as Madame Bauer approaches the traveler, looking at the whole situation quizzically. After the exchange is over, she approaches Madame Bauer.
"Excuse me, Bauer, but are you on a mission with us to hunt and secure a werewolf, or on a finding mission for some guy? I think its only fair to let the rest of us know, don't you think?" She pauses looking at the woman, considering.. "And that stranger, from his dress it looks like he hails from Tethyr, a nation very far South of here, would you have expected him to recognize your man?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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Soren listens bemused to the story by the... server? Anthologist? Author? Werewolf-descendent? Anyway, he listens to the tale about divine magic curing lycanthropy and the antidote being misattributed to true love. The most human of misattributions.
When Giles of the Scratching Hand mentions Tymora, Soren murmurs a prayer as his mother had taught him.
"I hope that Lady Luck will Bless us in the days and nights to come. I will also pray for that if you will, not-Father Giles."
Soren nods farewell Burr and Zefla and turns to make his way back just out of town, to sleep once more in the same wooded copse outside the gates of the big city. Vowing he would wake before dawn and be ready at the Caravan Gates (and wishing he had not drunk the Delimbyr brown ale).
Inge(Barbarian2): Krayveneer's After the Fall | Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1): Uhtred's Windward Isles | Xarian(Fighter1): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Nivi(Rogue4): Raiketsu's CoS
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4): MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court
We can presume that all of you are within walking distance tonight of wherever you call home, whether that is a humble shack outside the city walls, a rented room in town, or the hayloft of a barn. As an alternative, The River Shining has three rooms available. They are far and away the nicest rooms in town, and usually outside of your budgets at an eye-popping 5gp per night. But if anyone feels that 25gp burning a hole in your pockets, that option is there.
Assuming you leave The River Shining, you would all be able to see the tiefling woman sitting at the ornate long bar in the main room of the tavern, a large glass of wine at her side, engaged in conversation with the bartender.
The heavy food, wine and beer, a long day behind you, and the promise of a longer day ahead of you tomorrow call all of you to your beds.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Zefla barely sleeps that night, too excited for the journey ahead. Wondering if since these creatures can turn whenever they want, whether they'll run into the human form and not know it first? This was unlike any other mission she had been on and she couldn't wait.
As soon as she could, she packed her things and headed out to the Caravan Gates, looking forward to meeting up with the rest, and to meet the squire, the only one the group hadn't met yet.
Soren tries to avoid staring at the tiefling woman at the guilded bar on his way out and does not entirely succeed.
The earliest pre-dawn birdcalls wake him in a copse of trees outside Daggerford. Brushing off the worst of the leaves and twigs, he cleans himself off at nearby creek feeding the Delimbiyr river, take a healthy drink and fills his waterskin. He bids a quiet farewell to the animals nearby.
Arriving at the Caravan Gates, coming from the outside the city, he expects to be the first, only to find Zefla already there. He smiles at her, but does not speak so as not to spoil the stillness and quiet of the morning. Besides, he senses that he had talked entirely too much the previous night. That Delimbiyr Brown Ale... I always think I'm just having a sip and end up draining it all like a bear cub with honey. He puts a hand to his head, feeling a slight, dull ache.
Inge(Barbarian2): Krayveneer's After the Fall | Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1): Uhtred's Windward Isles | Xarian(Fighter1): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Nivi(Rogue4): Raiketsu's CoS
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4): MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court
Burr, levered himself up, did a perfunctory check for lice and scratched himself before heading out of the stable to meet up with the rest, seeing that two of them had beaten him to the gates he nodded good morning to them.
Giles lingers behind as everyone else leaves for the night, and then wanders over to the bar for a nightcap. He sits further down the bar and keeps to himself, but from time to time his eyes watch the tiefling, out of curiosity. As he heads off to bed for the night, he says his prayers, for the ability to bless his companions and protect them. The coin that was constantly in his hand he puts away in his pouch for safekeeping and he lies down for a fitful sleep, punctuated by periodic laughs, restless legs and a strange grin on his face.
He’s the last to arrive at the Caravan Gates, stretching as he begins to walk toward the group, then gathering himself to look the part, to be what is expected. His hair is tousled with definite bed head but his leather armor is on straight and his shield is slung over his back. He walks up to Soren, Burr and Zefla, saying with a grin, “Blessings to you all. Are you ready for what this day holds?”
" As much as one can be ready for agonising violent death I suppose.", Burr said flatly.
Zefla smiles as the others join her, clearly ready to get a move on. In response to Giles, "Yep! Just waiting for our ringleader and pals. You ready?"
As Burr responds, she turns to him, "Well... I guess that's a the spirit? C'mon Burr, where's your sense of adventure?"
" Adventure? Is life in the city really that boring? This is pest control......except the critters can eat you."
Burr smiled to himself, " I forgot to ask is Lord whatshisface paying our familys if we kick the bucket?"
Giles grins and a slightly wicked smile crosses his face, he pulls out the coin you saw before and flips it, catches it and looks at the result in an easy flowing fashion, a common habit with him. “Wish to place bets lads? Live or die? C’mon now Mr. Fusswicket, we’ll be fine! My Lady hasn’t let me down yet!” He pauses, considering with a pensive look. “Yet.”
As usual, Soren has trouble picking up on verbal cues of irony or facetiousness. To Burr's comment on the critters eating you, he answers:
"Don't worry, Burr. I think if I understood the pack leader, ah... Sir Rowan Caskbow, it's not being eaten by werewolves that is the issue so much as turning into one of them if they bite us. Spreading the curse of Lycanthropy I think he said? Though maybe being killed or eaten would cure that..."
Soren trails off uncertainly.
Inge(Barbarian2): Krayveneer's After the Fall | Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1): Uhtred's Windward Isles | Xarian(Fighter1): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Nivi(Rogue4): Raiketsu's CoS
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4): MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court
Giles:
In your time spent at the bar, you hear bits and pieces of Tourmaline's conversation. She seems to be engaging in a little barkeep therapy, complaining about how no one understands the difficulty that comes from being a descendant of the Devil of Gluttony, and that is it so hard to be "on" all of the time.
For his part, the bartender is calm and discreet enough that his own comments and commentary are not loud enough to reach your ears.
After a bitterly cold night, the air is warmer this morning, bringing a promise of more comfortable traveling weather today. Unfortunately the thaw has also turned the roads into an even muddier mess than normal, and the few carts already moving at this hour leave deep ruts and muddy puddles. The temperature change has also left a thin layer of mist clinging to the ground. It looks likely to burn off but for now it blankets the area outside the Caravan Gate and gives the landscape an ethereal quality.
The four of you don't have to wait long before the rest of your party appears. Madame Bauer is seated on the back of a strong and healthy grey and white horse; the saddle blanket shows the colors of the Church of Amaunator. Leading the horse by the reins is a young man of perhaps 16. He has short black hair and wears quality leather armor. On his back is a huge pack, seemingly more fit for a mule, but he carries it without obvious difficulty or complaint. Also lashed to his back is a set of javelins and a poleaxe. Following just behind is Sir Rowan. He has forgone his chainmail and is instead wearing a handsome set of ornate studded leather traveling armor. A longsword is sheathed at his hip.
"Wonderful! It is good to see all of you, up and ready to hit the road hard," says Sir Rowan as way of greeting. "You know Madame Bauer. Allow me to introduce my squire, Jhon Trollbark."
"Good morn, sirs," the young man says. He dips his head a bit toward Zeflan. "Miss."
"The boy is still in his training but is capable in the field. He's also been studying lycanthrope fighting styles - right, Jhon?"
The boy grins and nods. "Of course." As he nods his head, a jingling from the huge pack confirms that the knight's chainmail armor is at least a portion of what is bundled up inside.
As they draw closer, you see Madame Bauer has her hood drawn, shielding much of her face, her horns protruding from custom gaps in the top. From what you can see of her expression, she looks to be having a rough morning.
"You all look ready. Shall we depart?"
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
As the others arrive and the squire dips his head towards the halfling, she smiles, "Well, would ya look at that! We're traveling with one who has manners!"
Looking at Madame Bauer, she debates trying to help her out, figuring she has a hangover, but decides to hold her tongue, unsure if she'd be receptive to it or not.
"Yep! Not sure if Burr is though."
Burr grinned at her and shouldered his maul, " Lead the way."
Soren considers apologizing to Lady Tourmaline Bauer but decides that since she looks worse than he feels, now might not be the time.
He does seem momentarily confused about Sir Rowan Caskbow wishing to "hit the road hard." Soren looks at the road, then at his fist, then back at the road. He licks his lips uncertainly and subconsciously rubs his temple to ease the ache there from the Delimbiyr Brown Ale.
He shoulders his pack and wooden shield. "Let's go."
Inge(Barbarian2): Krayveneer's After the Fall | Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1): Uhtred's Windward Isles | Xarian(Fighter1): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(Druid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Nivi(Rogue4): Raiketsu's CoS
Joren(Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4): MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return | Sabetha(Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court
GIles gives Sir Rowan a thumbs up, saying “Ready to go.” He starts to walk forward, eventually wandering close to Jhon as they walk forward on their path. “You’ve studied lycanthrope fighting styles, eh? How have you studied them? Were you able to observe one, or has there been anything written about this? Any suggestions for young, budding lycanthrope hunters?” He grins, looking over at his mates.
Giles carefully observes his reply as he responds, listening for truth, and to make sure that he hasn’t “studied” them by being one of them…
Insight : 8
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1
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PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
A heavy wagon drawn by a team of oxen sets out a few minutes before you do. By the time your party ventures forth from the Caravan Gate of Daggerford, the wagon has already hit the Trade Way and made the turn south. Despite its size, the power of the oxen allow them to make just slightly better time than you on foot. For most of the morning as you head south, the wagon is visible in the distance, pulling slowly further and further ahead.
Jhon grins boldly at Giles questions. "The temple Sir Rowan serves has a small library collecting memoirs and histories of some of their holy knights. Within are contained tales of encounters with various beasts and aberrations, including werewolves. Sir Rowan arranged for me to have access to the library where I was able to read up on the subject. The scrolls discussed the pack tactics of the werewolves, their infectious bite, and their ability to shapeshift at will." He pats the poleaxe fastened to his back. "A silvered weapon is your best friend against them. Keep that blade up and make them eat it instead of you." Looking up, you can see a silverly sheen on his blade.
Anyone listening (Giles included) would notice the boy's answer is confident but also purposefully general and vague. A skeptical person might get the impression he didn't spend as much time on his homework as he lets on. Perhaps his confidence is well-placed... despite the heavy pack he is not slowed and doesn't seem to be tiring any faster than the rest of you. Sir Rowan has taken an interest in your line of questioning as well. "I hope you learned more than just that, Jhon. We're more than capable of handling this, but that doesn't mean it isn't dangerous. If you plan on earning knighthood before you're 30, you need to prepare... and that involves books as much as it does the training yard."
The walk is a slog. The road is mostly densly packed dirt or gravel, but there are many spots where looser soils intrude into the path. Here, mud sucks at your boots and it takes twice as much effort to go half as far. The mists break after a few hours, giving a better view of the surroundings. The Trade Way is wide enough for wagons to pass going in both directions, with room to spare. Much of the lands south of Daggerford are farms and livestock ranches, with occasional patches of forest in between. Where woods do encroach on the Trade Way, trees and brush are kept cut back 100' from the road to protect against ambush from bandits or goblinoids.
Around mid morning, you pass a few travelers coming in the other direction. A small cart full of bricks is pulled by a mule, driven by a pair of young man who could be brothers. Later a single traveler in foreign clothing passes by. As he does so, Madame Bauer tells Jhon to stop and she dismounts for the first time, landing with a splaunch in the brown mud. She approaches the stranger and he smiles at her silently. "Excuse me, sir. You have the look of one who has traveled many miles. If I might trouble you for but a moment, could you tell me if you have seen this man in your recent travels? He may have had others with him, covered head-to-toe in robes or cloaks?" The stranger takes both of her hands and grips them tightly for a moment, as way of greeting, and then looks at a parchment scroll she unfurls and shows to him. He looks at it thoughtfully for a moment, but then shakes his head with a sad expression. Madame Bauer pockets the scroll, thanks the man, and returns to her horse. The group continues south.
For those inclined to observe the stranger, History DC 12:
From the traveler's garb and his manner of greeting, he would appear to be a native of Tethyr, a nation many leagues to the south of here.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
HIstory 7
Zefla is surprised when the tiefling actually gets down off her high horse and into the mud with the rest of them. She watches as Madame Bauer approaches the traveler, looking at the whole situation quizzically. After the exchange is over, she approaches Madame Bauer.
"Excuse me, Bauer, but are you on a mission with us to hunt and secure a werewolf, or on a finding mission for some guy? I think its only fair to let the rest of us know, don't you think?" She pauses looking at the woman, considering.. "And that stranger, from his dress it looks like he hails from Tethyr, a nation very far South of here, would you have expected him to recognize your man?"