"I'll pay for the firkin now if you'll keep it handy behind the bar there. I think I'll try my luck in town and see if I can find either a donkey or one of my dwarven friends -- either are fine for carryin', only the donkey's less stubborn," he tells Lankus with a grin. "No doubt yer man Boil's stout enough, but I don't feel right makin' a man lug that keg all the way t'other side o' beyond."
With that he'll pay for the keg and then set off toward town looking for Qivys or a place to borrow/rent a donkey.
((Specifically Qivys because he wants to hear what the druid may have to tell him about the stag, but Dwal and/or Missy are welcome to come as well.))
With Dwal downtown looking into real estate, Qiv walks downstairs and over to the bar - "find either a donkey or one of my dwarven friends -- either are fine for carryin', only the donkey's less stubborn,".He laughs as Peri finishes.
"I'll be your beast of burden you little jackass. Where are we off to?" He says with a snorting laugh.
Peri laughs. "You grab the firkin and I'll carry the flagons. We need t' see a man about a deer!" As they leave the tavern, Peri explains, "When I first saw that odd flash, all of two days ago, I asked Lankus about it. He says there's a druid lives in the grove across the river who might be able to tell us a thing 'r two. Says the man sees a lot o' strangeness out there, and I thought who better than a druid to know about a ghost deer? And accordin' to our bony alchemist friend, I figure you might have a few questions for the man yourself." With that (assuming Qivys doesn't need to make a stop anywhere) he'll start off toward the grove.
As the daylight begins to wane, Peri, Missy and Qivys head down the hill, over the bridge, and along the the old road on the east side of the river, past a farm or two, to a grove of healthy-looking trees, where Lankus indicated that a halfling druid kept a shrine. Qivys lugs a firkin of ale on his shoulder, weighing at least fifty pounds.
You follow a well-worn path deep into a sizable grove of mature oak trees somewhat stunted by the harsh ocean winds. You soon come to a clearing in the center, but no sign of any structures. A massive, oblong, lichen-covered boulder lay half-buried in the dead leaves. Under it is a cave of sorts – an ancient, open, low hole. Laying halfway out of it is the body of a thin, aged halfling in a brown-and-red cloak, face-up in the dirt. Near his head is a massive bullfrog watching you closely. You begin to worry that this halfling has passed along to another world, but then his eyes roll back and he speaks. "What?" he says flatly, without moving.
"Ferrin Katilar? Periwinkle Fenwader, and these are my mates, Missy and Qivys. We were wonderin' if you'd care to share a drink with us, and maybe impart some knowledge as well." He tosses half of a cake swiped from the Council meeting to the frog.
Taking his cue from Peri, he places the firkin on the ground. Standing up he speaks to the seated druid. "Hail, tiny kin of the woods. We bring ale to help lubricate the exchange of knowledge. As to what knowledge we could offer to one of the land, I know not. But feel free to take a cup and we can see if there be something of interest to you in our recent adventures. My young companion here, your kin, might have a better understanding of that you seek." He stumbles over his words, trying to sound official and respectful, but not knowing exactly why they were here.
Peri follows Qivys' speech with a look of amused consternation. "Tiny kin of the woods? What the -- Bloody dwarves!" He takes another step closer to the druid. "I think what my friend here is trying to say -- in that weird dwarven way -- is you're welcome to whatever knowledge we might have that's of use to ya. But we came here hopin' y' might be able to shed some light on an odd encounter we had two days ago, in that moorland across the way. Before we get into it though, perhaps we should tap this keg."
"This?" Peri asks with a grin as he pops the bung from the keg. "I think you're going to like this. It's Lankus's ale, from the Wicker Goat. It's what the dwarves drink, so you can be assured of its quality." He pours a flagon and hands it to Ferrin.
"As for the silver?"He shrugs as he pours another flagon and hands it to Missy. "I can tell you what we saw and felt as we were pulled in, and t' start with, it's no liquid. But we were hopin' you'd have more insight into what exactly it was." He'll pour a flagon for Qivys, then one for himself. "So what say you, Sir Dwarf? Surely you've a fitting toast for new friends?"
"I missed it myself, but I have friends who witnessed it. You were inside it, you say?"
Ferrin takes a long drink from the flagon.
"There are aberrations in the wild, aberrations in the wild. Unnatural things. Sometimes they escape from the forest, or stumble out of the marshes." He takes another drink. "Some of the greatest threats lie under the sea, though, and not far from here. This world is becoming naught but rot and corruption."
Seeing this halfling to be as odd as his friend he lowers his attempt at trying to sound official. The ale helping to accomplish this as well.
Raising his tankard "Here's to tiny folk just met with frogs that don't ribbet. May friendship run deep and long like Dwarven beer, and Elven song!" He slams his tankard into Peri's and, forgetting that his drinking partners may not even speak Dwarven, he finishes with "Mukhuh targzu nê ta'bari bashk".
"May your beard never grow thin!"
With the toast over his face grows more serious. With much emotion he goes on to recount the tale of the silver blob to the druid. Claire being whisked away, the ship half in half out and, without hesitation, the part about the White Stag and how he has felt the magical beast within him ever since. He pours another round when the story is done. His glass not remaining full for very long as he slugs the entire pint in one hit - regaining his composure with every gulp.
Ferrin listens closely to Qivys tale. "It sounds very much like the Astral Sea. A wasteland and a gateway for the unnatural. It's a blessing that this portal has not returned. If you hear of another sighting, please let me know."
He polishes off his flagon and looks out through the leafless oaks into the cold, darkening sky.
"There are other kinds of portals under the sea. Forgotten by civilization and transited by Aboleths and other foul things that shouldn't be."
"There are things in the marshes, too. There's an unnatural crocodile there, I'm told, far up the Dunwater in the Hool Marshes. The elves and the lizardmen call it 'The Devourer.' Foul things are walking this once-fair land."
He quirks an eyebrow at his newfound friend, but before he can make a glib comment he catches Qivys's serious intent. He sips judiciously from his mug and listens to the dwarf's tale. It strikes Peri just how crazy the last two days have been. Rather than making a bland joke of their situation, Peri reaches up and lays a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. When Qivys's tale is told, he will nod somberly. He murmurs, "Dwarven ale, Elven song, and Halfling Burrows. Aye. There's times for fun and times t' be serious. I don't rightly know what we encountered, and I might dismiss it as an oddity of the universe, but there was a boy with us -- a young'n of no more than seven or eight -- who was dragged into that realm and ne'er came back. I need t' know what needs be done t' retrieve the lad." His eyes take on an unusually intense gaze.
"Yes, young Bardo. I heard about him as well. A potential tragedy. His mother is beside herself. Unfortunately, I am out of my expertise here - projections or portals into the Astral Plane is a topic I know nothing about. Dangerous, reckless - the domain of mad wizards, or as a last measure to banish demons. It's probably best not to pursue thoughts of rescue. Let Bardo go, let his mother mourn."
Ferrin rattles his empty flagon hopefully.
"You could talk to you-know-who, the tall one, our resident wizard." He holds has hand over his head. "But be warned that his motives are dark and self-serving. Do not trust his advice."
"I do trust this ale, though. Quite good." He rattles his flagon again.
Peri gives a rueful little laugh at the older halfling's unsubtle request and refills the flagon. "Th' firkin's yours t'keep, a gift from new friends, if you'll share with us tonight." He drains his mug and refills it (and anyone else's that needs a top-off), then sits heavily on the ground and heaves a sigh. "Arvoreen's Arms, old man. What is it about this place that instills such a sense of helplessness in its denizens? There was a haunted house scarin' the whole town that no one seemed willin' t' tackle, a shipwreck the Procans want salvaged but won't do for themselves, a band o' goblins the guard's payin' t' have handled, rather than just takin' care of it, and now the Town Council wants us t'be their Royal Marines. And you sit there tellin' me t' forget a little lost boy?" He shakes his head irritably and takes a long drink. "It's a wonder people don't just shrivel up in their beds here. Did you know there's perfectly fine houses along th' beach just sittin' empty because o' some crabs no one wants t'deal with?" Another head shake, another long drink.
"The Guard's just interested in protecting the mine and their import tariffs - they're not interested in finding kids. And their ranks are too thin to be diving wrecks or chasing out o' town baddies."
"No offense, madam" he adds to Missy, just now noticing her badge.
"Crabber's Cove! There's some old houses - some of the oldest in town. There was a big stink a few years back when some fools brought a sealed coffin back from overseas from which erupted something necromantic and very evil. A bunch of folks over there died before a cleric of St. Cuthbert came in and as far as I know destroyed it. But that end of town hasn't been quite right since. I don't know if the crabs are connected at all - there's supposedly some massive crabs offshore in the cove, there. Something not natural there."
"All I can do is to keep an ear out for rumors of aberrations in the wild. I have friends among the elves of the Dreadwood, and they send word to me if something unnatural escapes that forest and heads in this direction. When news of an aberration reaches me, I try to find good folks like you to stalk and kill 'em."
"If I can ask another question of you" he asks in a humble tone. "What can you tell me of the Stag that seems to have taken up residence within me? Or is guiding me... I don't know how best to describe the feeling. Is it a being you are aware of with you link to the land?"
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Peri:
"I'll pay for the firkin now if you'll keep it handy behind the bar there. I think I'll try my luck in town and see if I can find either a donkey or one of my dwarven friends -- either are fine for carryin', only the donkey's less stubborn," he tells Lankus with a grin. "No doubt yer man Boil's stout enough, but I don't feel right makin' a man lug that keg all the way t'other side o' beyond."
With that he'll pay for the keg and then set off toward town looking for Qivys or a place to borrow/rent a donkey.
((Specifically Qivys because he wants to hear what the druid may have to tell him about the stag, but Dwal and/or Missy are welcome to come as well.))
Qivys
With Dwal downtown looking into real estate, Qiv walks downstairs and over to the bar - "find either a donkey or one of my dwarven friends -- either are fine for carryin', only the donkey's less stubborn,". He laughs as Peri finishes.
"I'll be your beast of burden you little jackass. Where are we off to?" He says with a snorting laugh.
Peri:
Peri laughs. "You grab the firkin and I'll carry the flagons. We need t' see a man about a deer!"
As they leave the tavern, Peri explains, "When I first saw that odd flash, all of two days ago, I asked Lankus about it. He says there's a druid lives in the grove across the river who might be able to tell us a thing 'r two. Says the man sees a lot o' strangeness out there, and I thought who better than a druid to know about a ghost deer? And accordin' to our bony alchemist friend, I figure you might have a few questions for the man yourself." With that (assuming Qivys doesn't need to make a stop anywhere) he'll start off toward the grove.
Missy
Missy will tag along with Qivys and Peri if she hears they're trying to get answers about the stag.
As the daylight begins to wane, Peri, Missy and Qivys head down the hill, over the bridge, and along the the old road on the east side of the river, past a farm or two, to a grove of healthy-looking trees, where Lankus indicated that a halfling druid kept a shrine. Qivys lugs a firkin of ale on his shoulder, weighing at least fifty pounds.
You follow a well-worn path deep into a sizable grove of mature oak trees somewhat stunted by the harsh ocean winds. You soon come to a clearing in the center, but no sign of any structures. A massive, oblong, lichen-covered boulder lay half-buried in the dead leaves. Under it is a cave of sorts – an ancient, open, low hole. Laying halfway out of it is the body of a thin, aged halfling in a brown-and-red cloak, face-up in the dirt. Near his head is a massive bullfrog watching you closely. You begin to worry that this halfling has passed along to another world, but then his eyes roll back and he speaks. "What?" he says flatly, without moving.
Peri:
"Ferrin Katilar? Periwinkle Fenwader, and these are my mates, Missy and Qivys. We were wonderin' if you'd care to share a drink with us, and maybe impart some knowledge as well." He tosses half of a cake swiped from the Council meeting to the frog.
The frog looks at the partial cake on the ground, then turns away, ignoring it.
Ferrin sits up. "Knowledge," he repeats, and frowns. He pauses for a long while, and looks you over.
"What's your topic? Maybe we can trade some knowledge."
Qivys
Taking his cue from Peri, he places the firkin on the ground. Standing up he speaks to the seated druid. "Hail, tiny kin of the woods. We bring ale to help lubricate the exchange of knowledge. As to what knowledge we could offer to one of the land, I know not. But feel free to take a cup and we can see if there be something of interest to you in our recent adventures. My young companion here, your kin, might have a better understanding of that you seek." He stumbles over his words, trying to sound official and respectful, but not knowing exactly why they were here.
"Who are you? You brought beer? What do you want?" He looks tired. The bullfrog doesn't budge.
Peri:
Peri follows Qivys' speech with a look of amused consternation. "Tiny kin of the woods? What the -- Bloody dwarves!" He takes another step closer to the druid. "I think what my friend here is trying to say -- in that weird dwarven way -- is you're welcome to whatever knowledge we might have that's of use to ya. But we came here hopin' y' might be able to shed some light on an odd encounter we had two days ago, in that moorland across the way. Before we get into it though, perhaps we should tap this keg."
A spark of interest appears in the old halfling's eyes. "The silver liquid? Yes. What do you know of it? And what's in your keg?"
Peri:
"This?" Peri asks with a grin as he pops the bung from the keg. "I think you're going to like this. It's Lankus's ale, from the Wicker Goat. It's what the dwarves drink, so you can be assured of its quality." He pours a flagon and hands it to Ferrin.
"As for the silver?" He shrugs as he pours another flagon and hands it to Missy. "I can tell you what we saw and felt as we were pulled in, and t' start with, it's no liquid. But we were hopin' you'd have more insight into what exactly it was." He'll pour a flagon for Qivys, then one for himself. "So what say you, Sir Dwarf? Surely you've a fitting toast for new friends?"
"I missed it myself, but I have friends who witnessed it. You were inside it, you say?"
Ferrin takes a long drink from the flagon.
"There are aberrations in the wild, aberrations in the wild. Unnatural things. Sometimes they escape from the forest, or stumble out of the marshes." He takes another drink. "Some of the greatest threats lie under the sea, though, and not far from here. This world is becoming naught but rot and corruption."
"But tell me what you witnessed."
Qivys
Seeing this halfling to be as odd as his friend he lowers his attempt at trying to sound official. The ale helping to accomplish this as well.
Raising his tankard "Here's to tiny folk just met with frogs that don't ribbet. May friendship run deep and long like Dwarven beer, and Elven song!" He slams his tankard into Peri's and, forgetting that his drinking partners may not even speak Dwarven, he finishes with "Mukhuh targzu nê ta'bari bashk".
"May your beard never grow thin!"
With the toast over his face grows more serious. With much emotion he goes on to recount the tale of the silver blob to the druid. Claire being whisked away, the ship half in half out and, without hesitation, the part about the White Stag and how he has felt the magical beast within him ever since. He pours another round when the story is done. His glass not remaining full for very long as he slugs the entire pint in one hit - regaining his composure with every gulp.
Ferrin listens closely to Qivys tale. "It sounds very much like the Astral Sea. A wasteland and a gateway for the unnatural. It's a blessing that this portal has not returned. If you hear of another sighting, please let me know."
He polishes off his flagon and looks out through the leafless oaks into the cold, darkening sky.
"There are other kinds of portals under the sea. Forgotten by civilization and transited by Aboleths and other foul things that shouldn't be."
"There are things in the marshes, too. There's an unnatural crocodile there, I'm told, far up the Dunwater in the Hool Marshes. The elves and the lizardmen call it 'The Devourer.' Foul things are walking this once-fair land."
"Good ale, thanks."
Peri:
He quirks an eyebrow at his newfound friend, but before he can make a glib comment he catches Qivys's serious intent. He sips judiciously from his mug and listens to the dwarf's tale. It strikes Peri just how crazy the last two days have been. Rather than making a bland joke of their situation, Peri reaches up and lays a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. When Qivys's tale is told, he will nod somberly. He murmurs, "Dwarven ale, Elven song, and Halfling Burrows. Aye. There's times for fun and times t' be serious. I don't rightly know what we encountered, and I might dismiss it as an oddity of the universe, but there was a boy with us -- a young'n of no more than seven or eight -- who was dragged into that realm and ne'er came back. I need t' know what needs be done t' retrieve the lad." His eyes take on an unusually intense gaze.
"Yes, young Bardo. I heard about him as well. A potential tragedy. His mother is beside herself. Unfortunately, I am out of my expertise here - projections or portals into the Astral Plane is a topic I know nothing about. Dangerous, reckless - the domain of mad wizards, or as a last measure to banish demons. It's probably best not to pursue thoughts of rescue. Let Bardo go, let his mother mourn."
Ferrin rattles his empty flagon hopefully.
"You could talk to you-know-who, the tall one, our resident wizard." He holds has hand over his head. "But be warned that his motives are dark and self-serving. Do not trust his advice."
"I do trust this ale, though. Quite good." He rattles his flagon again.
Peri:
Peri gives a rueful little laugh at the older halfling's unsubtle request and refills the flagon. "Th' firkin's yours t'keep, a gift from new friends, if you'll share with us tonight." He drains his mug and refills it (and anyone else's that needs a top-off), then sits heavily on the ground and heaves a sigh. "Arvoreen's Arms, old man. What is it about this place that instills such a sense of helplessness in its denizens? There was a haunted house scarin' the whole town that no one seemed willin' t' tackle, a shipwreck the Procans want salvaged but won't do for themselves, a band o' goblins the guard's payin' t' have handled, rather than just takin' care of it, and now the Town Council wants us t'be their Royal Marines. And you sit there tellin' me t' forget a little lost boy?" He shakes his head irritably and takes a long drink. "It's a wonder people don't just shrivel up in their beds here. Did you know there's perfectly fine houses along th' beach just sittin' empty because o' some crabs no one wants t'deal with?" Another head shake, another long drink.
"The Guard's just interested in protecting the mine and their import tariffs - they're not interested in finding kids. And their ranks are too thin to be diving wrecks or chasing out o' town baddies."
"No offense, madam" he adds to Missy, just now noticing her badge.
"Crabber's Cove! There's some old houses - some of the oldest in town. There was a big stink a few years back when some fools brought a sealed coffin back from overseas from which erupted something necromantic and very evil. A bunch of folks over there died before a cleric of St. Cuthbert came in and as far as I know destroyed it. But that end of town hasn't been quite right since. I don't know if the crabs are connected at all - there's supposedly some massive crabs offshore in the cove, there. Something not natural there."
"All I can do is to keep an ear out for rumors of aberrations in the wild. I have friends among the elves of the Dreadwood, and they send word to me if something unnatural escapes that forest and heads in this direction. When news of an aberration reaches me, I try to find good folks like you to stalk and kill 'em."
Qivys
"If I can ask another question of you" he asks in a humble tone. "What can you tell me of the Stag that seems to have taken up residence within me? Or is guiding me... I don't know how best to describe the feeling. Is it a being you are aware of with you link to the land?"