Dragon of Icespire Peak ***CLOSED***

"Meant no harm," Minsys said.  "Thought the orcs might have taken the place.  Good they didn't."  He begins to follow them in and sees the orc heads hanging up there.  He stops short and then turns around.  "I'll guard."

Seeing the shocked expressions on the faces of his visitors, Falcon offers a bit of an explanation: "Everyone finds their niche in the world...orc sport-hunting is mine. Green-skinned filth murdered my family when I was just a boy and so my life's work became repayment of that debt. Pompous lords with more coin than sense will pay good money for the hunting experience of a lifetime...one in which the prey is also the predator. Seein' how I was gonna be killin' orcs anyways, I figured, why not make a living doin' it?"

Ando kneels next to the injured boy for a closer look at his wounds. A jagged tear in his flesh starting at his left shoulder propagated down his chest nearly to his right hip. The paladin cannot tell just how near to death the boy is, but he knows it isn't far.

Ando looks up a Tabesha’l, a slight smile on his face. “Kindle and Shelter the Light. That is my charge from my Lady. I certainly feel that young Pell here is worthy of said Light.” Ando lays one hand on Pell’s forehead, the other near his wounded shoulder, and closes his eyes. He whispers a prayer to Mielikki, “This one is brave and noble. Spare him that he may share the Light.”

Lay on Hands: 5 points

Pell's eyes flutter as the torn flesh across his chest begins to knit itself back together as color rushes back into his grey lifeless form. "C-c-corwin? Wha...what's happening? Am I dead?" says the young man.

The old man who was clearly 'Corwin' barked an admonishment back at the boy, but with an obvious look of relief on his face: "No you're not dead, you knitwit...but ye was about t'be! Till this here kind gentleman prayed for yer soul, which probably now belongs to whatever god he worships. Next time orcs attack and we say 'RUN' howsabout ye just do that, hmm?"

Corwin managed to grasp Ando's hand in his a shake it vigorously in appreciation but was unable to extrude any words of thanks and instead just nodded and smiled as an avalanche of tears tumbled down his wrinkled cheeks.

"Anybody up for an orc hunt?" says Falcon as he drags a whetstone down the length of a sword. "I think they've taken up residence in the old manse not far from here."

Connak shakes his head.  "If they're on the war path, they need to be stopped.  But I'm not sure I'm up to joining you.  You seem to be too enthusiastic about it."

"Poor Pell has just returned from the brink of death and you are seriously talking about going out again?" admonishes Corwin.

"Perhaps you're right, oh wise and cantankerous one," teases Falcon in response. "Forgive my 'enthusiasm' friend, but I would think that anyone who's home has been under attack would be eager to do something about it," he comments to Connak. "Nonetheless, you all are welcome to stay in the guest house for free as long as you like - its not much, but there are plenty of cots, blankets and pillows and we have plenty of food and ale as well, enough to last through the winter anyways. I ask only that you aid in our defense should we come under attack again."

The huntsman continues: "I’ve seen many more orcs than usual here lately, the ugly brutes. Based on my reconnaissance, I believe them to be in league with a group of evil half-orcs that I have seen in the company of little stick creatures known to creep about these woods. They seem to be gathering at the old stone manse roughly ten miles to the southeast, which is a little too close to home for my liking."

"We've heard nothing from the logger's camp either," adds Corwin. "These woods are dangerous, and usually we will check in on each other, but there's been no one from the log camp here in nearly two tendays. I fear they may have suffered a worse fate than we..."

Minsys, outside the building, fails to hear any of what's going on.  He instead is taking a slow walk around the perimeter of the the inside of the camp.  He's taking note of the buildings, their construction, easy point of defense and entry.  

Investigation 8

Connak suggests, "I'd rather check the logger's camp than go straight to a defended orc camp."

Minsys does not learn much on his stroll around the lodge grounds, but can tell that even though the location was not built as a military outpost, it is slightly better suited to mount a defense from than your standard farmhouse or barn.

Inside the lodge, Falcon tells the party how to find the logger's camp: "The log camp is about twenty miles to the west and following the river is the best way to get there without getting lost. The camp is situated on the south bank of the river, so you can't miss it, assuming you get there without becoming a meal for something along the way. I've got a pretty decent sized log raft that'll float you there, if you'd be willing to take a load of supplies with you...it'll save me from having to do it myself. The camp leader is a man named Tibor Wester - have him sign the requisition form, and the next time you're in Phandalin you can turn it in to his brother at the Townmaster's office to claim the courier's fee."

Connak discusses with his party, "Personally, I'd rather scout my way under cover of the forest, but as a group being on a raft in the middle of a river might be the safer choice."

Turning to Falcon, "And if we want to hit the orc camp from the direction of the logger's camp, how would we get there?"

TO CONNAK: "They are in opposite directions my friend. The orcs are encamped to the southeast at the abandoned manse in the middle of the forest, while the logging camp is on the south side of the river twenty miles west of here, downstream."

Tabesha'l had listened to the exchange between Connak and the human called Falcon with a quiet, concentrated air. She finally stood up from her seat near where Pell was still recovering, and after a respectful nod to acknowledge the undeniable effects of Ando's prayers, addressed the hunter:

 " Honored Falcon, what would thy knowledge on the general lay-out and also legends attached to said-olde manse be, praytell ? I have good reason to believe ancient magic still dwells in its midst..."

"If the tales are true, about half a millennia ago, a reclusive tribe of elves discovered some great power in the southeast corner of the Neverwinter Wood and began cultivating that power into artifacts from several shrines in the area. No one knows what happened, but those elves mysteriously disappeared and their shrines fell into ruin. A few centuries later, an elven wizard by the name of Aerydesia Pananthyr came to the Wood intent on excavating the ruins of her ancestors, presumably to recover the artifacts they had been working with. She built a manse in the woods to serve as her home and base of operations, but it too fell into ruin when she vanished just like her forefolk. The manse itself is not magical as far as I know...hells, I used to play there when I was a kid. Know every square inch of the place. Let me find a quill and some parchment and I'll sketch it out for you."

Tabesha'l alerts upon hearing her own surname, Pananthyr.

(OOC: Make an Intelligence (History) check to see if she can recall any facts about a family member named "Aerydesia Pananthyr.")

The elven maiden's eyes widen at the mention of her bloodline. Could this Aerydesia be the one she'd heard mentioned by her mother in hushed tones, when she thought her daughter was either not listening or too young to care or even understand ?

It had been so long, even for one of the High Blood... Tabesha'l wasn't sure she could trust what vague recollections remained.

** History check is 23 but she will use her portent to bring it up to 12+5 = 17. **

She had some trouble remembering the name at first, but searching through her memories of early childhood, Tabesha'l distinctly remembers overhearing her mother say that name to her father not only in hushed tones, but tones laced with disgust, vitriol...hatred even. Her memory began to clear as thoughts, visions and suppressed memories raced through her consciousness.

CLICK HERE IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT TABESHA'L REMEMBERS:

Tabesha'l visibly pales as she tells the others about her ancestor's shameful secret:

" In more formal circumstances I would be loathe to share this with those not of our Elder Blood, yet I feel that our recent travels have created a bond between us that is akin to one of family, what we High Elves call Everÿnhe, 'Those Who Shall Be Trusted'. Know thus that this Aerydesia Pananthyr was in fact my own sire''s mother and that her unholy fascination for the powers of demonic magic brought upon her both corruption and finally disgrace, her name all but forgotten and erased for ever from our noble families' records. She was known as Her'as-Hreth, 'The Unholy Hand', because of this and even that name was but spoken in hushed tones full of disgust and grief. Be it as it may, her powers as a mage were formidable and the fact she disappeared without a trace would let us suppose that she was either slain by an evil more ancient and cruel than she, or that she chose to remain hidden... none of which is of very good ilk, methinks."

As she explained what she knew of her banished grandmother, she couldn't repress the thought that she, Tabesha'l, probably was held in equally low esteem by her Pananthyr kin at this very moment. Did they also erase her name from the family books ? A wave of sadness and longing washed over her as she thought of her home and of what she had lost.

Connak visibly struggles to restrain his comments, eventually saying, "I still think the logging should be a priority.  If they haven't been attacked, we can warn them so they can leave or at least be prepared."

Tabesha'l nods at Connak's proposal, ignoring his pained frown after her long tirade and simply saying:

" I agree. Grandmother hath been gone from this world a very long while - both in human and elven years - and as such I doeth suspect she can wait upon our visit a little while longer. That is, if she is still alive, obviously."

Falcon disappears upstairs to prepare a sketch of the grounds of the woodland manse for the party. While he is gone the party gets more familiar with their surroundings and finds a stable of horses, a forge and a pantry stocked floor to ceiling with foodstuffs and ale. After a while, he comes back down with a couple of rolled parchments in one hand and pair of curious-looking boots in the other.

"This here is the shipping requisition for the stuff I need you to take to the logger's camp. Don't forget to have Timor sign it before you take back to Phandalin, or you'll get no payment for your trouble. "Corwin is getting the raft ready for the journey downriver. Shall I have him launch it now or would you care to stay the night and leave in the morning?"

He spreads out the other parchment on a nearby table: "If you decide to go the other direction, this is what the layout of the manse looks like. Notice that one of the upstairs rooms has a couple of hidden panels along the walls there. There's a giant pumpkin patch that surrounds the place...be careful of the critters that make their home there. And these," he says hoisting up the elegantly crafted set of leather boots, "are yours for the having if you clear the orcs from that place."

Connak says to his party, "With orcs on the warpath, I'd rather be rested when we fight them, not exhausted.  But giving those people at the logging camp warning sooner than later can save lives... "  Connak shrugs, undecided.