Hiking along, the open fields soon give way to woods. East of the road stands a large coppiced woodlot where Eric has often hunted small game and helped to gather in acorn-fed swine. Villagers' fuel comes from here.
But to the west lies the Darkling Wood, old growth untouched by the woodcutter's axe and, for the whole time any of you can recall, spared the ravages of wildfire.
About six or seven miles out from town, well into the woodlands, Eric notices comes across a spot where fallen timber, collapsed masonry, and soil form a low ramp crossing the drainage ditch on the west side of the road.
Poking about, he discovers the faint scuffs of ox hooves and the long scrapes of wagon wheels leading across the mound in the ditch and into the shrubs and trees to the west. Given the weather and the conditions of the ground, these tracks must have been made after the day of the big hailstorm, so sometime in the last ten days.
He follows the tracks far enough into the tree-line to confirm that whoever was driving the wagon indeed entered the Darkling Wood. Turning back while he can still glimpse the white stones of the High Way glinting through the tall trees in the sunlight, Eric gets back up onto the road top and hastens to inform his companions of the wagon trail.
From what he saw, he ought to able to track the wagon farther through the woods.
Alyna's green eyes widened at the "all true" (the rumors were.... numerous) but the tail made her frown: "So you are a gambler and you cheat at games."Two mortal sins right there! She made a serious face and tried to look as stern as Mother Katerina when she was about to lecture someone, but then laughed. "Actually I meant, why did they choose you for that mission. But I think I understand now. Who was your last victim in the tavern?"
The news about the wagon interrupted that lazy chatter and not in a pleasant way. Alyna went to look at the ramp herself: "Did he... tried to find a shortcut?"The very idea sounded too silly. "Or someone scared him off the road?" Flock of the birds - even crows - could mean a lot of things but of course with everything that happen lately the worst came to mind first. She licked her lips nervously. "Shall we check it out? No other wagons left the village, but it could be someone else, right?"
"It's not exactly gambling the way I do it," Shayne responded with a smirk. "But I only cheat when they deserve it, and never those who cannot afford it."
"Last victim in the Rillford tavern? Not a one, I swear! Nobody around here has enough coin to cheat them out of..."
Shayne would not press or pester Eric. At the first sign of his unwillingness to answer questions, Shayne would instead shift to telling stories instead of trying to converse. If the stories annoyed him as well, Shayne would surrender. One quick lesson you learn in a bar is there's no use poking the bear who wants to hibernate.
When Eric started scouting ahead, Shayne would press just a touch and suggest he bring Fammy with him. "Certainly the cat won't be asking you any questions or making any noise to bother you," Shayne would point out. "Still, so long as your in about a hundred feet of us, we'll be able to know if you found anything or need help or just want us to hurry up. Me and Fammy... We have a bit of a bond, I guess you'd say."
"How much traffic does this road get?" Shayne would ask the group, as they examined the ramp. "What's the chances that someone else may have left the tracks?"
Shayne traipsed about and looked here and there but truth be told he had no idea what he was looking at of for. He could barely discern the tracks who they were pointed out to him and he certainly couldn't tell if there was one set or a dozen. "I'm guessing that mound that allowed the crossing isn't accidental? Could be he was waylaid by bandits? Or perhaps there are farms here about who needed the access?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
The road gets a good deal of traffic around the summer tradefair at Monkshall but not as much this time of year. A wagon team might have driven by the village of Rillford in the last ten days, but if one did, none of you noticed it and none of your neighbors mentioned it.
Rumors about bandits in a neighboring district circulated last year, but none of you has heard anything much about it this year. After His Lordship's taxes and tithes, and the collection taken by the Earthmother's temple, what bandits could steal from Rillford folk most years must seem slim pickings compared with what can be taken from the fat traders at Monkshall. Of course, those fat traders have fat purses to hire men with spears and bows to guard their wagons and wealth. Light-fingered vagabonds and runaway serfs do pass through the countryside on occasion, rustling a sheep or snatching some chickens or making off with laundry left unattended.
The mound in the roadside ditch appears natural, the result of spring flooding and road debris, perhaps. But it could have been made on purpose. In any case, it's on the west side, leading into the Darkling Wood, not toward any farms...
I made a minor correction. Those faint hoof marks look more like tracks of oxen than of horses to Eric.
Werthan used oxen to pull his cart. But then, so do many people hereabouts. It's hardly uncommon, though draft horses are favored by the wealthier class of farmers and merchants.
Alyna just sighed "Have not heard about another wagon passing by." The situation was grim - if those track were from miller's oxen, they had to go into the woods. But they could not be sure until they either loose a lot of time going to Monkshall and back, or actually stepping into the woods. Alyna looked at the birds again and said with the confidence she did not feel: "We can follow tracks just for a while. Say, until we get to those birds? It does not look too far and it's only morning now. We check - and get back to the road right away!"She reminded herself that there are four of them and it is indeed a bright morning - nothing to fear at all! - then raised her chin and stepped away from the road (not straying far from the group, though).
"I just cannot see the miller driving off toward the Dark Woods for any normal reason," Xylys says emphatically. "And if the waggon that made those tracks were his, then something untoward happened here. Maybe he was ensorcelled by some sort of fey creature, you know a blood-drinker or something." He shakes his head, "I know I jumped at the chance to get away from that forge, thinking, 'yes! and adventure', a small one perhaps but, this . . . this is definitely something out of the ordinary and we had best be very careful."
Xylys will pull a small piece of leather out of his pound and, moving his hands in a complicated pattern, says, "Lesto ipis tractil no simptimun ilkis, notal, notal bortim, lamis, Lamis, Lamis!" And a glow springs briefly from his hands, swirls around him and, collapsing inward upon him, fades away.
Mage Armor
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
"You're right, probably best to follow the tracks a bit," Shayne said to Alyna. "If the miller continued on the road then there's still the chance he just got normally delayed. But if these tracks are his, then something is amiss..."
"Best to be prepared for any eventuality..." Shayne said, seeing the Spellcasting. "But let's not be jumping to conclusions, eh Xylys? Just because it's the Darkling Wood doesn't mean it's bloodsucking fairies ensorcelling innocents! What would they want with the miller anyway?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
Once you get past the roadside brush, the ancient forest opens up, with well-spaced and huge oaks and maples and a scattering of small pines and birch. With the dense spring foliage of the tall hardwoods choking the sunlight, undergrowth is scanty. Only mushrooms and the occasional lady's slipper grow in the deeper shadows. Even in the reduced light, the lack of any tall brush allows you to see well a good thirty yards off. Although all sorts of things could be hiding behind the boles of the bigger trees.
Your party moves in deeper, with Eric going slowly, following the oxcart trail (which nobody but Eric can make out well at all). Last winter's mulch of leaves and twigs crunches and squelches under your feet, small noises that seem amplified in the cool air.
The barfly's pet plays at first, chasing insects through the cool shadows, but after a little while the cat stalks in silence, keeping very near Shayne, whiskers twitching at unseen things.
The party has been following the oxcart trail for an hour or a little more when you all hear loud cawing drifting though the trees ahead.
A little farther, and the more sensitive among you catch a whiff of something rotten.
The trail becomes thinner.
Presently, you spy a wide stone shoulder jutting waist-high from the forest floor to form a small clearing where only moss and raspberry brambles grow. A flock of ravens whirls and dips and rises above the far end of the clearing. The smell of decay thickens in the air near the clearing.
As the first of your party clambers up onto the rocky shoulder for a better look, the carrion birds suddenly cease their squabbling. They all fly to perches near you but out of reach. Cold eyes stare intently down at you, but the birds remain silent.
Then something moves in the boughs of a truly massive oak across the glade, black wings opening wide in shadow. Down it swoops to land on mossy rock, the biggest raven any of you has ever seen, big enough to carry off a toddler!
Shayne's cat hisses and spits, rushing to hide behind his feet.
The huge carrion bird hops forward and croaks loudly.
Alyna did not understand what Xylys did but magic was obvious - the rumors were true after all. Strangely, in current situation it was more reassuring than scary. Even if bloodsucking fairy was nothing more than a superstition, she shared Shayne's caution about the woods. Before they departed from the road the girl picked several small rocks - she could make them useful, if needed to be.
Turned out, the birds were indeed scavengers. Alyna did not want to look at the bodies ravens were feasting on but could not look away either. Sudden appearance of the gigantic raven startled her, making to ask the silliest question in the circumstances: "You can talk?!"
Alyna did not understand what Xylys did but magic was obvious - the rumors were true after all. Strangely, in current situation it was more reassuring than scary. Even if bloodsucking fairy was nothing more than a superstition, she shared Shayne's caution about the woods. Before they departed from the road the girl picked several small rocks - she could make them useful, if needed to be.
Turned out, the birds were indeed scavengers. Alyna did not want to look at the bodies ravens were feasting on but could not look away either. Sudden appearance of the gigantic raven startled her, making to ask the silliest question in the circumstances: "You can talk?!"
''Tok-tok! Tokk!"
The birds in the trees burst into a chorus of squawking and harsh cries.
Then, as the noise dies down, the enormous raven repeats its earlier vocalization,
Shayne instinctively steps partially in front of Alyna and puts his hand upon his rapier. Bending his knees, he picks up Fammy with his free hand and dumps her into her sack tied to Shayne’s waist. The cat clambers and climbs enough to poke out her head but otherwise stays hidden and safe.
“Who can talk?” Shayne asks, turning to look at the young Alyna. “Who said that?”
Shayne looks here and there, his head always returning to the giant bird. That was a startling sight but someone... some person must have said that...?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
Alyna clutched a strange ... ornament? - bizarre thing she was keeping on her belt a small willow hoop, with several hag stones and feathers dangling from it with an agate bead in the middle woven into a net. "I think that was the bird," whispered she to Shayne and added a bit later "I can sometimes understand what birds ... communicate, but I think this one just speaks human language."
Shayne does a double take, looking between the bird and Alyna. “Is this true? Can you speak the hu... well if you can speak it, I guess we shouldn’t lay claim to the language?”
“Still and all, greetings to you!” Shayne says with a fancy bow. “We surely do not mean to intrude but we are tasked with finding a wayward Miller from our village. Would you or your brethren have happened to have noticed him?”
Then Shayne pauses.., for a response or laughter, not sure if this is something extraordinary or some kind of a prank on him.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
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Hiking along, the open fields soon give way to woods. East of the road stands a large coppiced woodlot where Eric has often hunted small game and helped to gather in acorn-fed swine. Villagers' fuel comes from here.
But to the west lies the Darkling Wood, old growth untouched by the woodcutter's axe and, for the whole time any of you can recall, spared the ravages of wildfire.
About six or seven miles out from town, well into the woodlands, Eric notices comes across a spot where fallen timber, collapsed masonry, and soil form a low ramp crossing the drainage ditch on the west side of the road.
Poking about, he discovers the faint scuffs of ox hooves and the long scrapes of wagon wheels leading across the mound in the ditch and into the shrubs and trees to the west. Given the weather and the conditions of the ground, these tracks must have been made after the day of the big hailstorm, so sometime in the last ten days.
He follows the tracks far enough into the tree-line to confirm that whoever was driving the wagon indeed entered the Darkling Wood. Turning back while he can still glimpse the white stones of the High Way glinting through the tall trees in the sunlight, Eric gets back up onto the road top and hastens to inform his companions of the wagon trail.
From what he saw, he ought to able to track the wagon farther through the woods.
7
perception
ANYONE WHO IS ACTING AS A LOOKOUT/SCANNING THE HORIZON:
You notice black winged shapes circling in air over the Darkling Wood. Could be crows or ravens.
Alyna's green eyes widened at the "all true" (the rumors were.... numerous) but the tail made her frown: "So you are a gambler and you cheat at games." Two mortal sins right there! She made a serious face and tried to look as stern as Mother Katerina when she was about to lecture someone, but then laughed. "Actually I meant, why did they choose you for that mission. But I think I understand now. Who was your last victim in the tavern?"
The news about the wagon interrupted that lazy chatter and not in a pleasant way. Alyna went to look at the ramp herself: "Did he... tried to find a shortcut?" The very idea sounded too silly. "Or someone scared him off the road?" Flock of the birds - even crows - could mean a lot of things but of course with everything that happen lately the worst came to mind first. She licked her lips nervously. "Shall we check it out? No other wagons left the village, but it could be someone else, right?"
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
"It's not exactly gambling the way I do it," Shayne responded with a smirk. "But I only cheat when they deserve it, and never those who cannot afford it."
"Last victim in the Rillford tavern? Not a one, I swear! Nobody around here has enough coin to cheat them out of..."
Shayne would not press or pester Eric. At the first sign of his unwillingness to answer questions, Shayne would instead shift to telling stories instead of trying to converse. If the stories annoyed him as well, Shayne would surrender. One quick lesson you learn in a bar is there's no use poking the bear who wants to hibernate.
When Eric started scouting ahead, Shayne would press just a touch and suggest he bring Fammy with him. "Certainly the cat won't be asking you any questions or making any noise to bother you," Shayne would point out. "Still, so long as your in about a hundred feet of us, we'll be able to know if you found anything or need help or just want us to hurry up. Me and Fammy... We have a bit of a bond, I guess you'd say."
"How much traffic does this road get?" Shayne would ask the group, as they examined the ramp. "What's the chances that someone else may have left the tracks?"
Shayne traipsed about and looked here and there but truth be told he had no idea what he was looking at of for. He could barely discern the tracks who they were pointed out to him and he certainly couldn't tell if there was one set or a dozen. "I'm guessing that mound that allowed the crossing isn't accidental? Could be he was waylaid by bandits? Or perhaps there are farms here about who needed the access?"
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
The road gets a good deal of traffic around the summer tradefair at Monkshall but not as much this time of year. A wagon team might have driven by the village of Rillford in the last ten days, but if one did, none of you noticed it and none of your neighbors mentioned it.
Rumors about bandits in a neighboring district circulated last year, but none of you has heard anything much about it this year. After His Lordship's taxes and tithes, and the collection taken by the Earthmother's temple, what bandits could steal from Rillford folk most years must seem slim pickings compared with what can be taken from the fat traders at Monkshall. Of course, those fat traders have fat purses to hire men with spears and bows to guard their wagons and wealth. Light-fingered vagabonds and runaway serfs do pass through the countryside on occasion, rustling a sheep or snatching some chickens or making off with laundry left unattended.
The mound in the roadside ditch appears natural, the result of spring flooding and road debris, perhaps. But it could have been made on purpose. In any case, it's on the west side, leading into the Darkling Wood, not toward any farms...
TRACKING NOTE:
I made a minor correction. Those faint hoof marks look more like tracks of oxen than of horses to Eric.
Werthan used oxen to pull his cart. But then, so do many people hereabouts. It's hardly uncommon, though draft horses are favored by the wealthier class of farmers and merchants.
Alyna just sighed "Have not heard about another wagon passing by." The situation was grim - if those track were from miller's oxen, they had to go into the woods. But they could not be sure until they either loose a lot of time going to Monkshall and back, or actually stepping into the woods. Alyna looked at the birds again and said with the confidence she did not feel: "We can follow tracks just for a while. Say, until we get to those birds? It does not look too far and it's only morning now. We check - and get back to the road right away!" She reminded herself that there are four of them and it is indeed a bright morning - nothing to fear at all! - then raised her chin and stepped away from the road (not straying far from the group, though).
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
"I just cannot see the miller driving off toward the Dark Woods for any normal reason," Xylys says emphatically. "And if the waggon that made those tracks were his, then something untoward happened here. Maybe he was ensorcelled by some sort of fey creature, you know a blood-drinker or something." He shakes his head, "I know I jumped at the chance to get away from that forge, thinking, 'yes! and adventure', a small one perhaps but, this . . . this is definitely something out of the ordinary and we had best be very careful."
Xylys will pull a small piece of leather out of his pound and, moving his hands in a complicated pattern, says, "Lesto ipis tractil no simptimun ilkis, notal, notal bortim, lamis, Lamis, Lamis!" And a glow springs briefly from his hands, swirls around him and, collapsing inward upon him, fades away.
Mage Armor
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
"You're right, probably best to follow the tracks a bit," Shayne said to Alyna. "If the miller continued on the road then there's still the chance he just got normally delayed. But if these tracks are his, then something is amiss..."
"Best to be prepared for any eventuality..." Shayne said, seeing the Spellcasting. "But let's not be jumping to conclusions, eh Xylys? Just because it's the Darkling Wood doesn't mean it's bloodsucking fairies ensorcelling innocents! What would they want with the miller anyway?"
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Once you get past the roadside brush, the ancient forest opens up, with well-spaced and huge oaks and maples and a scattering of small pines and birch. With the dense spring foliage of the tall hardwoods choking the sunlight, undergrowth is scanty. Only mushrooms and the occasional lady's slipper grow in the deeper shadows. Even in the reduced light, the lack of any tall brush allows you to see well a good thirty yards off. Although all sorts of things could be hiding behind the boles of the bigger trees.
Your party moves in deeper, with Eric going slowly, following the oxcart trail (which nobody but Eric can make out well at all). Last winter's mulch of leaves and twigs crunches and squelches under your feet, small noises that seem amplified in the cool air.
9
The barfly's pet plays at first, chasing insects through the cool shadows, but after a little while the cat stalks in silence, keeping very near Shayne, whiskers twitching at unseen things.
The party has been following the oxcart trail for an hour or a little more when you all hear loud cawing drifting though the trees ahead.
A little farther, and the more sensitive among you catch a whiff of something rotten.
The trail becomes thinner.
Presently, you spy a wide stone shoulder jutting waist-high from the forest floor to form a small clearing where only moss and raspberry brambles grow. A flock of ravens whirls and dips and rises above the far end of the clearing. The smell of decay thickens in the air near the clearing.
As the first of your party clambers up onto the rocky shoulder for a better look, the carrion birds suddenly cease their squabbling. They all fly to perches near you but out of reach. Cold eyes stare intently down at you, but the birds remain silent.
Then something moves in the boughs of a truly massive oak across the glade, black wings opening wide in shadow. Down it swoops to land on mossy rock, the biggest raven any of you has ever seen, big enough to carry off a toddler!
Shayne's cat hisses and spits, rushing to hide behind his feet.
The huge carrion bird hops forward and croaks loudly.
"Be-gawwwn!"
OCC Is there a wagon in the clearing? If so, does Xylys recognize it?
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
Alyna did not understand what Xylys did but magic was obvious - the rumors were true after all. Strangely, in current situation it was more reassuring than scary. Even if bloodsucking fairy was nothing more than a superstition, she shared Shayne's caution about the woods. Before they departed from the road the girl picked several small rocks - she could make them useful, if needed to be.
Turned out, the birds were indeed scavengers. Alyna did not want to look at the bodies ravens were feasting on but could not look away either. Sudden appearance of the gigantic raven startled her, making to ask the silliest question in the circumstances: "You can talk?!"
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
''Tok-tok! Tokk!"
The birds in the trees burst into a chorus of squawking and harsh cries.
Then, as the noise dies down, the enormous raven repeats its earlier vocalization,
"Be-gawwwwwwnnn!"
“Did you eat our Miller?” Xylys asks, in a relatively respectful manner as he looks around to see if the missing wagon is there.
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
((Did we actually see bodies?))
Shayne instinctively steps partially in front of Alyna and puts his hand upon his rapier. Bending his knees, he picks up Fammy with his free hand and dumps her into her sack tied to Shayne’s waist. The cat clambers and climbs enough to poke out her head but otherwise stays hidden and safe.
“Who can talk?” Shayne asks, turning to look at the young Alyna. “Who said that?”
Shayne looks here and there, his head always returning to the giant bird. That was a startling sight but someone... some person must have said that...?
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Alyna clutched a strange ... ornament? - bizarre thing she was keeping on her belt a small willow hoop, with several hag stones and feathers dangling from it with an agate bead in the middle woven into a net. "I think that was the bird," whispered she to Shayne and added a bit later "I can sometimes understand what birds ... communicate, but I think this one just speaks human language."
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
Shayne does a double take, looking between the bird and Alyna. “Is this true? Can you speak the hu... well if you can speak it, I guess we shouldn’t lay claim to the language?”
“Still and all, greetings to you!” Shayne says with a fancy bow. “We surely do not mean to intrude but we are tasked with finding a wayward Miller from our village. Would you or your brethren have happened to have noticed him?”
Then Shayne pauses.., for a response or laughter, not sure if this is something extraordinary or some kind of a prank on him.
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop