Unable to shake the slight paranoia, Serak disappears leaving the others huddled around the flickering glow of firelight. With the setting sun blasting light into his face as it disappears over the horizon, Serak finds it difficult to see. His eyes constantly adjusting to the mixture of light and dark. After a short time away he is convinced that they are safe, returning to the camp in darkness.
A shivering Aramil lies huddled some distance away from the fire. It’s not a particularly cold night, though the elf has managed to wrap himself tightly in a blanket as he tries to stifle the cold. At intervals throughout the night, the old adventurer mumbles frantically. Inaudible but distressed words, smothered by blankets.
When morning arrives, Aramil refuses to move. Grunting like an adolescent when Arkhan moves to lift him, blanket pulled tightly over his head to shield him from the light. “NUGH! ..... can’t...”
OCC: RL is killing me this week, between work and some virus at home. Continue without me, and I will catch up. Send me a PM if combat and I am needed. Sorry.
Serak: Serak awakens curled up in a ball beside the campfire. Thankful for his leathers and cloak, he checks his weapons and gear while saying, "Good morning, gentlemen! Let us finish the short trek to Tundertree! Perhaps Jelenneth can make sense of this old drunk's ramblings. Aramil! Wake up!" Reaching down and gripping the Wood Elf by the shoulders, Serak helps Aramil to his feet and marching toward their destination.
(OOC: No worries, Syna. Hope everyone is feeling better soon! Kids go back to school and the germ factory continues its yearly operation. My friend's son has strept throat, thrush, a stomach virus and a four thing I can't even remember. All after one week of school. lol)
Clearly suffering, Aramil shields his eyes against the morning light as he reluctantly staggers forwards. The old elf leans against whichever of the party he can reach as they march onwards, his legs wobbling weakly beneath him with each step. Though the going is slow, it is not long before the forest surrounds them and Thundertree reveals itself. The midday sun held at bay behind a canopy of trees.
A short distance down the trail, a familiar figure skips across the well worn pathway towards a pile of charred wood and debris - the last remains of The Brown Horse Inn that had burnt down only a few short days ago. As the figure drops another armful of rubble into the pile, he catches sight of the companions. An all too familiar smile spreads quickly across his face.
”HEY! I didn’t think you guys would be back so soon!” Brots sprints over to them as fast as he stumpy legs will carry him, his mind already bursting with questions, “What’s been happening? Where’s Zyl? Who’s this chap? Find Gundren yet?”
Arkhan walks along side the new hungover companion holding him up and making sure he keeps pace. When seeing Brots he will readjust Aramil's weight and just grunt at Brots in the friendliest way a dragonborn can.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Gash- Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
"Brots, my friend...What are you doing out here?" Beetle greets his former companion, still keeping a careful watch for the stick creatures they have run into several times in this area.
“Oh... you know.... this and that. Dayereth and I are clearing out the Inn here now that the fires finally out. Think he’s headed back up to the tower for something....” The gnome wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving behind a thick black smudge, “Didn’t realise we’d fought so many beasties! We haven’t seen anything dangerous since you guys left!”
Sure enough, the road into Thundertree seems less overgrown than it had been a few days earlier. The trees less gnarled looking, fresher and greener - as if for the first time in many years they are finally able to breathe freely.
Serak: Greeting Brots cheerfully, Serak says, "Hello again, my friend! I'm afraid no Gundren yet, but we've brought Aramil with us to help with that. Rebuilding Thundertree will be hard work and I'm hoping Aramil will choose to stay to help you. Where is Jelenneth?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Nodding to Aramil, Brots points a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the wizards tower, “Oh she’ll be back at the tower no doubt. It’s great to meet you Aramil Sir. Jelenneth and Dayereth have spoken at length about you these last few days!” The old elf sways on the spot, clearly suffering one of the worst headaches imaginable. Concerned Brots look to Serak for guidance, “Um... is he ok? Should we maybe take him to the tower?”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Serak: The bard nods and allows Brots to lead the way toward the Tower. Nudging Aramil along, Serak says, "Finally starting to sober up, are you? As you can see, Thundertree is in ruins. Those that come to rebuild this town will need someone to look to with your knowledge of the area. You'd have a place here. A chance to build a life. How's that sound?"
Persuasion: 20
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Aramil barely grunts in response, his eyes barely open in the dim light beneath the trees. Being in this much pain, he is liable to agree to anything that gets him closer to a bed.
As the companions reach the tower, they are surprised at how much progress has been made to the town. Everything already seems much greener. Weeds and thorns have been pushed back. Old, dead wood replaced by fresh green shoots. Brots calls out to the elders, ushering the party inside.
Crossing the towers threshold, the groups ears are split by Jelenneths shrill squeal of delight at their arrival. She wastes no time in providing teas and fresh food for each of them, eager to hear of their travels over the last two days. For Aramil she brews up a special tonic, placing him into a bed wrapped tightly in blankets. Dayereth is just as enthusiastic, keen to discuss the progress that they have made and somewhat disappointed in his old ally. He speaks in a hushed tone while his wife delivers the tonic, “I’m very sorry about him. Had we known we would have come with you. He was always so reliable and this is very out of character... was he any help to you at all?”
Serak: Bowing in greeting, Serak says, "Hello once again, dear Jelenneth! As you can see, Aramil has been in quite a sorry state. I don't think he's spoken a single coherent sentences since we found him. I thought you could help and it was best we get him out of that environment. Perhaps he can make a place for himself here, helping to rebuild Thundertree?"
Returning to the party, now seated around the small wooden table, Jelenneth pulls up a stool, “It’s really not like our Aramil to get this way... of course we’ll take care of him. We owe him a lot so it’ll be the least we can do.” She smiles sweetly at the party, before turning her gaze back to the pile of blankets shivering gently in the corner, “That elixir won’t take long to have an effect. An hour or two at most.... if you’ve nothing else to do in the village.... should we have lunch while we wait?”
"Lunch sounds great, I'm starving!!!" Beetle says. He looks around 1 last time surveying for any trouble.... "Nice to see this area has calmed itself and is coming back to life since we cleared out all those nasties."
Serak: Helping himself to Jelenneth's generous offer, Serak seats himself and enjoys a quick lunch with the others. After his meal, the bard lights his pipe and pulls out his deck of cards to pass the time until Aramil is rested enough to speak.
Catching up on the last few days, the party settles in to the hospitality offered in the wizards tower. Beetle, finally convinced that the area is safe, tucks into a large bowl of soup. Hobbling over to take a seat beside Brots, Dayereth reaches over the table for a crust of bread, “You know, since that incident with the blasted dragon it’s been pretty quiet. Obviously clearing the blights and zombies helped too... but... yes the forest breathes new life!”
Jelenneth and her husband excitedly fill the others in on their plans. With the village seemingly safe, the next step of securing the rundown buildings is well underway. In time, the pair mean to settle here, hoping that others will be drawn to the site once news spreads. Midway through their monologue, movement from the corner of the room. The pale, weak form of an old elf rises to his feet.
”Ah! Aramil my dear... I see you’re feeling better? Why don’t you join us? Brots here had made a beautiful soup!” Smiling broadly across the room, Jelenneth offers her own seat, busting herself in finding a fresh bowl.
”Jel? Where in the nine hells am I? ...... Dayereth?” Clearly bewildered, Aramil sheepishly steps forwards eyeing up the numerous strange faces in the room. “Forgive me... my head is slightly foggy. Do I know you gentlemen?”
Serak: Waving the old Elf over to the table, Serak stands so Aramil may sit. He replies, "Well, we know you, though I doubt you remember much, with the state you were in. Sit and get something to eat while we talk."
Gesturing toward the party, the bard says, "I am Serak The Skald and these are Arkhan, Beetle, and Syna. We bravely rescued you from drowning yourself in spirits and brought you here. Jelenneth believes you may be able to assist us with tracking a group of Cragmaw. They are believed to have taken up residence in one of the abandoned castles in the forest to the southeast."
Reluctantly, Aramil takes a seat at the table. He scrunches a fist into his reddened eye, rubbing it briefly. “A pleasure I’m sure... have to say it’s been a while since I’ve been involved in any kind of rescue.” A muffled chuckle bursts from across the table as a brief memory pops into Dayereths head. With a long yawn, Aramil stretches for a tea pot, already making himself quite at home. A few quiet moments pass as the old elf seems deep in thought, gently stroking the dark liquid around inside his freshly poured cup. Brots clears his throat to speak, but is almost immediately cut off by the old elf’s resigned grumble.
“Crafty bunch the Cragmaws.... but not the brightest. Years ago they ran amok all over these lands. With no one to defend them, the farms and homesteads took the brunt of it. I was part of a small band of adventurers back then, much like yourselves. Many’s a day we spent tracking goblins - Cragmaw especially.” He takes a draw of tea and a large handful of bread from a nearby plate, “Galadhor Castle.... if you’re sure that’s what you’re looking for then that’s where they’ll be.”
Taking a big mouthful of bread Aramil rubs at his eyes again, this time with the palm of his hand. “Jel could I get another dose of that... whatever it was.... I think it’s wearing off.” With his mouth full of bread he pauses for another moment, swallowing it reluctantly. He sits awkwardly, almost crouched over the table, narrow eyes fixated on his empty plate, “The castle is about 30 miles southeast of here, in the southern reaches of Neverwinter wood. When I was a lad a talented wizard-noble lived there.... I forget his name. He’s long dead now though I suppose. I remember it being a massive place with several huge towers, enough rooms to garrison a small army. The REAL jewel of the north it was back then. Oh Thankyou dear....”
He breaks off as Jelenneth hands him a small bottle. Downing it quickly, he shudders as the bottle empties down his throat, “yawa.... Phalorm has long fallen now.... as has the castle. It’s perfect for those goblins. Dark, fortified, close to the trails, plenty of caves nearby for outposts. Goblins might be simple minded but they know a hideout when they see one. My money is on finding them there.”
Unable to shake the slight paranoia, Serak disappears leaving the others huddled around the flickering glow of firelight. With the setting sun blasting light into his face as it disappears over the horizon, Serak finds it difficult to see. His eyes constantly adjusting to the mixture of light and dark. After a short time away he is convinced that they are safe, returning to the camp in darkness.
A shivering Aramil lies huddled some distance away from the fire. It’s not a particularly cold night, though the elf has managed to wrap himself tightly in a blanket as he tries to stifle the cold. At intervals throughout the night, the old adventurer mumbles frantically. Inaudible but distressed words, smothered by blankets.
When morning arrives, Aramil refuses to move. Grunting like an adolescent when Arkhan moves to lift him, blanket pulled tightly over his head to shield him from the light. “NUGH! ..... can’t...”
OCC: RL is killing me this week, between work and some virus at home. Continue without me, and I will catch up. Send me a PM if combat and I am needed. Sorry.
"ALWAYS GIVE A MONSTER AN EVEN BREAK!"
1st Edition DMG
Serak: Serak awakens curled up in a ball beside the campfire. Thankful for his leathers and cloak, he checks his weapons and gear while saying, "Good morning, gentlemen! Let us finish the short trek to Tundertree! Perhaps Jelenneth can make sense of this old drunk's ramblings. Aramil! Wake up!" Reaching down and gripping the Wood Elf by the shoulders, Serak helps Aramil to his feet and marching toward their destination.
(OOC: No worries, Syna. Hope everyone is feeling better soon! Kids go back to school and the germ factory continues its yearly operation. My friend's son has strept throat, thrush, a stomach virus and a four thing I can't even remember. All after one week of school. lol)
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Clearly suffering, Aramil shields his eyes against the morning light as he reluctantly staggers forwards. The old elf leans against whichever of the party he can reach as they march onwards, his legs wobbling weakly beneath him with each step. Though the going is slow, it is not long before the forest surrounds them and Thundertree reveals itself. The midday sun held at bay behind a canopy of trees.
A short distance down the trail, a familiar figure skips across the well worn pathway towards a pile of charred wood and debris - the last remains of The Brown Horse Inn that had burnt down only a few short days ago. As the figure drops another armful of rubble into the pile, he catches sight of the companions. An all too familiar smile spreads quickly across his face.
”HEY! I didn’t think you guys would be back so soon!” Brots sprints over to them as fast as he stumpy legs will carry him, his mind already bursting with questions, “What’s been happening? Where’s Zyl? Who’s this chap? Find Gundren yet?”
Arkhan walks along side the new hungover companion holding him up and making sure he keeps pace. When seeing Brots he will readjust Aramil's weight and just grunt at Brots in the friendliest way a dragonborn can.
Gash - Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
"Brots, my friend...What are you doing out here?" Beetle greets his former companion, still keeping a careful watch for the stick creatures they have run into several times in this area.
“Oh... you know.... this and that. Dayereth and I are clearing out the Inn here now that the fires finally out. Think he’s headed back up to the tower for something....” The gnome wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving behind a thick black smudge, “Didn’t realise we’d fought so many beasties! We haven’t seen anything dangerous since you guys left!”
Sure enough, the road into Thundertree seems less overgrown than it had been a few days earlier. The trees less gnarled looking, fresher and greener - as if for the first time in many years they are finally able to breathe freely.
Serak: Greeting Brots cheerfully, Serak says, "Hello again, my friend! I'm afraid no Gundren yet, but we've brought Aramil with us to help with that. Rebuilding Thundertree will be hard work and I'm hoping Aramil will choose to stay to help you. Where is Jelenneth?"
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Nodding to Aramil, Brots points a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the wizards tower, “Oh she’ll be back at the tower no doubt. It’s great to meet you Aramil Sir. Jelenneth and Dayereth have spoken at length about you these last few days!” The old elf sways on the spot, clearly suffering one of the worst headaches imaginable. Concerned Brots look to Serak for guidance, “Um... is he ok? Should we maybe take him to the tower?”
Serak: The bard nods and allows Brots to lead the way toward the Tower. Nudging Aramil along, Serak says, "Finally starting to sober up, are you? As you can see, Thundertree is in ruins. Those that come to rebuild this town will need someone to look to with your knowledge of the area. You'd have a place here. A chance to build a life. How's that sound?"
Persuasion: 20
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Aramil barely grunts in response, his eyes barely open in the dim light beneath the trees. Being in this much pain, he is liable to agree to anything that gets him closer to a bed.
As the companions reach the tower, they are surprised at how much progress has been made to the town. Everything already seems much greener. Weeds and thorns have been pushed back. Old, dead wood replaced by fresh green shoots. Brots calls out to the elders, ushering the party inside.
Crossing the towers threshold, the groups ears are split by Jelenneths shrill squeal of delight at their arrival. She wastes no time in providing teas and fresh food for each of them, eager to hear of their travels over the last two days. For Aramil she brews up a special tonic, placing him into a bed wrapped tightly in blankets. Dayereth is just as enthusiastic, keen to discuss the progress that they have made and somewhat disappointed in his old ally. He speaks in a hushed tone while his wife delivers the tonic, “I’m very sorry about him. Had we known we would have come with you. He was always so reliable and this is very out of character... was he any help to you at all?”
Serak: Bowing in greeting, Serak says, "Hello once again, dear Jelenneth! As you can see, Aramil has been in quite a sorry state. I don't think he's spoken a single coherent sentences since we found him. I thought you could help and it was best we get him out of that environment. Perhaps he can make a place for himself here, helping to rebuild Thundertree?"
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Returning to the party, now seated around the small wooden table, Jelenneth pulls up a stool, “It’s really not like our Aramil to get this way... of course we’ll take care of him. We owe him a lot so it’ll be the least we can do.” She smiles sweetly at the party, before turning her gaze back to the pile of blankets shivering gently in the corner, “That elixir won’t take long to have an effect. An hour or two at most.... if you’ve nothing else to do in the village.... should we have lunch while we wait?”
"Lunch sounds great, I'm starving!!!" Beetle says. He looks around 1 last time surveying for any trouble.... "Nice to see this area has calmed itself and is coming back to life since we cleared out all those nasties."
Serak: Helping himself to Jelenneth's generous offer, Serak seats himself and enjoys a quick lunch with the others. After his meal, the bard lights his pipe and pulls out his deck of cards to pass the time until Aramil is rested enough to speak.
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Catching up on the last few days, the party settles in to the hospitality offered in the wizards tower. Beetle, finally convinced that the area is safe, tucks into a large bowl of soup. Hobbling over to take a seat beside Brots, Dayereth reaches over the table for a crust of bread, “You know, since that incident with the blasted dragon it’s been pretty quiet. Obviously clearing the blights and zombies helped too... but... yes the forest breathes new life!”
Jelenneth and her husband excitedly fill the others in on their plans. With the village seemingly safe, the next step of securing the rundown buildings is well underway. In time, the pair mean to settle here, hoping that others will be drawn to the site once news spreads. Midway through their monologue, movement from the corner of the room. The pale, weak form of an old elf rises to his feet.
”Ah! Aramil my dear... I see you’re feeling better? Why don’t you join us? Brots here had made a beautiful soup!” Smiling broadly across the room, Jelenneth offers her own seat, busting herself in finding a fresh bowl.
”Jel? Where in the nine hells am I? ...... Dayereth?” Clearly bewildered, Aramil sheepishly steps forwards eyeing up the numerous strange faces in the room. “Forgive me... my head is slightly foggy. Do I know you gentlemen?”
Serak: Waving the old Elf over to the table, Serak stands so Aramil may sit. He replies, "Well, we know you, though I doubt you remember much, with the state you were in. Sit and get something to eat while we talk."
Gesturing toward the party, the bard says, "I am Serak The Skald and these are Arkhan, Beetle, and Syna. We bravely rescued you from drowning yourself in spirits and brought you here. Jelenneth believes you may be able to assist us with tracking a group of Cragmaw. They are believed to have taken up residence in one of the abandoned castles in the forest to the southeast."
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Reluctantly, Aramil takes a seat at the table. He scrunches a fist into his reddened eye, rubbing it briefly. “A pleasure I’m sure... have to say it’s been a while since I’ve been involved in any kind of rescue.” A muffled chuckle bursts from across the table as a brief memory pops into Dayereths head. With a long yawn, Aramil stretches for a tea pot, already making himself quite at home. A few quiet moments pass as the old elf seems deep in thought, gently stroking the dark liquid around inside his freshly poured cup. Brots clears his throat to speak, but is almost immediately cut off by the old elf’s resigned grumble.
“Crafty bunch the Cragmaws.... but not the brightest. Years ago they ran amok all over these lands. With no one to defend them, the farms and homesteads took the brunt of it. I was part of a small band of adventurers back then, much like yourselves. Many’s a day we spent tracking goblins - Cragmaw especially.” He takes a draw of tea and a large handful of bread from a nearby plate, “Galadhor Castle.... if you’re sure that’s what you’re looking for then that’s where they’ll be.”
Beetle perks up a bit, refreshed from lunch and asks "Do you know where to find this castle. That would be a big help and save a lot of time."
Taking a big mouthful of bread Aramil rubs at his eyes again, this time with the palm of his hand. “Jel could I get another dose of that... whatever it was.... I think it’s wearing off.” With his mouth full of bread he pauses for another moment, swallowing it reluctantly. He sits awkwardly, almost crouched over the table, narrow eyes fixated on his empty plate, “The castle is about 30 miles southeast of here, in the southern reaches of Neverwinter wood. When I was a lad a talented wizard-noble lived there.... I forget his name. He’s long dead now though I suppose. I remember it being a massive place with several huge towers, enough rooms to garrison a small army. The REAL jewel of the north it was back then. Oh Thankyou dear....”
He breaks off as Jelenneth hands him a small bottle. Downing it quickly, he shudders as the bottle empties down his throat, “yawa.... Phalorm has long fallen now.... as has the castle. It’s perfect for those goblins. Dark, fortified, close to the trails, plenty of caves nearby for outposts. Goblins might be simple minded but they know a hideout when they see one. My money is on finding them there.”