The movement is so fast it pulls an undignified yelp out of Morgan. He’d braced for a little prick on the hand... not a clean slice. But once he realizes he’s still in one piece, he exhales.

"Seems I'm not too bad," he mutters, a bit pale but trying to play it cool.

Jacaranda looks to the horizon. She can see black mountains in the distance, breaking the dark blue sky peppered with millions and millions of tiny stars. Nearby within the scope of her nightvision, she sees nothing that would raise her alarm. 

" Alright.  We need to move on as soon as possible....I don't trust this place at all."

" Grab a few hours sleep if you can. I'll keep watch, be ready to march when I wake you."

She nodded to Kor then went to stand her watch once more.

Kor sets his sword down by the fire then stands. "Well, since you are going to bed down, I think I will be off." He smiles to the group. "Best of luck in Bazzoxan. You will need it friends.

"Too many stuck swords,
an autumn poem rusts red,
old blood clings to steel.

"Maybe there is perfection in imperfection." He nods to Morgan. "This will do, I think." Kor begins to walk away into the night, cursed sword in his grip.

Morgan smiles with genuine appreciation.
"The greatness of imperfection... that's what I'm all about.
May the winter be far, mild… and epic. Good luck, Kor."

The parties watch Kor disappear into the night, then beds down. 

DM: Long Rest achieved. 

Day breaks without issue. The party eats, breaks down camp, and is merry... or not, depending on how this journey or Kor's visit sat with them from the night before. 

The porcelain and gold sword remains by the fire when the camp stirs. What does the party do upon seeing that the sword is still where Kor left it?

“Looks like our friend Kor left us a gift,” Bombur said. 

"Waitaminit..."

Yis scratches her head in bafflement. "Why would he do that?...Hopefully one of you knows what to do with that."

She walks away knowing that the right person will pick it up or at least a caretaker that will hang on to it until we meet Kor again. She spends time giving the animals a morning rub and re-braiding Rumble's mane. 

Morgan helps the others get ready, though his eyes keep drifting back to the sword lying near the campfire. He's no sword-fighter, but a blade that can tell good from bad (or at least it has... opinions) would be a hell of an artifact.

Still… he’s more worried about Kor. That sword meant something to the old man. Morgan really hopes he didn't just forget it here by accident. He winces at the memory that surfaces unbidden: the time he left his beloved hat in the latrine of an orc camp.
Not his proudest moment.

" Perhaps someone from our sister group can make better use of it?", Randa ventured, ready to move on.

While everybody is packing up and getting ready to move on, Ylis finishes her tasks and says, "Hey guys! Today we make it to Bazzocon! A day for recovery and discovery!"

*Everybody gets 8 thp

She also grabs the sword and places it respectfully in the wagon. Anybody can have it but we're not leaving it behind.

The mountains grow as the party journeys along. Half a day before arriving at the base of the mountain line. What appeared a thick fog in the distance is a mere light screen, barely perceptible less than 100ft. A tinge that bends the light of day orange. The city reveals itself as the party passes a mountain ridge.

Jutting from the rusty orange mountains of eastern Xhorhas are tall spires of black stone. This is the Betrayers’ Rise—a foul fortress from times long past. Beneath the spires, a vast gate blocks all entry to the military outpost of Bazzoxan, which sits in the shadows of the Betrayers’ Rise. Crumbling and desolate structures huddle between iron watchtowers, and soldiers of the Aurora Watch patrol the tops of the walls and the massive gate ahead of you. As you approach, a guard on the wall barks, “Identify!”

Bombur musters his full 3'6" height and marches to the head of the group. He pulls up his belt and puffs out his chest, looking as important as possible.

"We're travelers and adventurers! On a sacred mission from the Gods, sent here on our path to our destiny. I am Brother Bombur of Hupperdook, cleric of the Allfather, crafter of worlds. Open the gates and let us enter!"

Quote from chrisbodmann >>

Bombur musters his full 3'6" height and marches to the head of the group. He pulls up his belt and puffs out his chest, looking as important as possible.

"We're travelers and adventurers! On a sacred mission from the Gods, sent here on our path to our destiny. I am Brother Bombur of Hupperdook, cleric of the Allfather, crafter of worlds. Open the gates and let us enter!"

The ranger shakes his head out of embarrasment for what Bombur is saying.

-"Path to our destiny" typical cleric.- he mutters to himself. He gets off the carriage and walks towards Bombur.

-Buddy. You don't order a guard to open the gate to enter the city, he can deny entry if he thinks you're too demanding.- says smiling to the Gnome while putting his hand on Bombur's shoulder.

"In my considerable experience, assuming authority is often the best approach. Make them think you are meant to be there and they are less likely to suspect you're not." He shakes his own head, embarrassed that the elf ranger must be used to living in the out of doors with animals rather than in civilization.

 The guards on the walls scan the adventuring parties. “Are you mercenaries? We could use your strength of arms.” One calls down to the group. 

"Indeed," Bombur says, nudging Frekor. "We would be open to discussing an arrangement to assist you in matters of martial needs."

 The guard on the wall disappears and a few minutes later, the main gate opens enough for the wagons. The guard on the wall is accompanied by three others, each taking up a point to surround the party, though no weapons are drawn. 

"We will escort you to the Taskhand, so that you may discuss terms. Follow us."

He then turns and walks inside the city. 

DM: You arrived at Bazzoxan. Please advance to level 5. 

Quote from Erik_Soong >>

 The guard on the wall disappears and a few minutes later, the main gate opens enough for the wagons. The guard on the wall is accompanied by three others, each taking up a point to surround the party, though no weapons are drawn. 

"We will escort you to the Taskhand, so that you may discuss terms. Follow us."

He then turns and walks inside the city. 

DM: You arrived at Bazzoxan. Please advance to level 5. 

 (OOC: Yey! level 5!!!!)

-Alright. Let's see what is in store for us.- says the ranger before following the guards.

Quote from Erik_Soong >>

 The guard on the wall disappears and a few minutes later, the main gate opens enough for the wagons. The guard on the wall is accompanied by three others, each taking up a point to surround the party, though no weapons are drawn. 

"We will escort you to the Taskhand, so that you may discuss terms. Follow us."

He then turns and walks inside the city. 

DM: You arrived at Bazzoxan. Please advance to level 5. 

 OOC: YAY!

While driving the wagon into the city, Ylis feels a kind of warmth settle over her body. Not just a sense of relief by getting to their destination and a possible rest from the trials of the journey but a sensation of enlightenment. As if the Moonweaver had reached down and poked her between the eyes.

She sighs knowing she has been blessed.