Chilling Adventures in the North

(Yeah, this sword is where the Shrine of the Flaming Sword gets its name.)

After casting detect magic, Bàn sees a red aura around the sword, the aura of Evocation magic.

     Bàn, unsure of the import of this passing of the sword, steps back a step and merely observes...

Ricky sighs. "That's... Generous. Not sure it's earned though. Here you go, Ban. You take it, for sticking up for me back there. All I need is these fists, anyway." 

     “I’m not really the sword type,” Bàn says, stepping another step back while declining the generous offer.  “Isn’t this kind of a town thing?  I’m and outsider… just passing through…”

"Qinfaren? Bjorn? Any interest in a sword?"

Bjorn shrugs, "I do have my scimitars, so I'm no stranger to using a sword. Although, lately I have been focusing on using my longbow. I think we should at least take it with us at any rate."

"Its a very nice sword," Qinfaren says, "but swords aren't something I ever learned to use."

He looks down at Ricky.

"There may come a time when we face something your fists might not be able to contend with," Qinfaren says and nods over at Bjorn. "On our way to the Ten-Towns, we had a run in with an unfriendly wererat. Magic and silver were the only things that knocked some sense into her."

Qinfaren starts heading down the path they started on again before stopping and looking back at Ricky.

"Your fists aren't magic, are they?" Qinfaren asks. "I'd like to see that if they are."

As he starts out again, Qinfaren reaches into the gray cloth bag at his waist and pulls out a round furry ball. He rolls it in his hand for a few moments before tossing it on to the ground.

2  

Qinfaren laughs as the fur ball turns into a giant rat.  He says hi to the creature and directs it to trot along beside the road, keeping an eye out for trouble.

Ricky stares at his weak, non-magiv fists with derision before heading off to their next adventure, sword on his back - practically whispering his inadequacies in his ear

After taking the sword from Olivessa, she bids you farewell. However, she chooses to stay to watch you go. Leaving Good Mead behind, the cold bitter wind starts to blow around the group once more. Fortunately, the trip to Dougan's Hole, past Redwaters, is not too long and is relatively quiet.

The trip takes four hours in total, before arriving in Dougan's Hole. The rival of Good Mead, the town is known for being unwelcoming and the relationships that they keep in the families. These relationships has lead to a dwindling population and physical deformities. As the group enters Dougan's Hole, they are met with stares and the occasional tut of the tongue. 

     Owl tends to fly ahead of the group and scout the area but as they arrive at Dougan's Hole they are sitting on Bàn's shoulder resting.  Bàn returns each "tut" with a smile and a nod of the head, not familiar with the greeting but returning it in his own manner.  

     "Should we find rooms for the night then?" Bàn asks the others as he keeps his eyes open for a tavern or an inn.

Qinfaren frowns at the locals and their disapproval of the 'newcomers'. 

"Firbolg are shy of outsiders too," Qinfaren says, "but we're never rude like this."

He nods at Bàn's suggestion and helps look for an inn.

It doesn't take long to search Dougan's Hole, and the group quickly realises that there is no inn or tavern in the small town. However, the group does spot a ring of megaliths just outside of town on the southwestern side. Nineteen of the crudely fashioned menhirs are arranged in a rough triangular shape with one stone standing in the middle.

Ricky shrugs. "These folks are always like this. Doesn't surprise me they don't have an inn. They barely count as part of Ten Towns. Best just camp and make do."

     “Camping not as comfortable as a bed but it’ll do,” Bàn agrees…

When they find the menhir triangle, Qinfaren paces the edges of it, the giant rat winding it's way between stones, keeping pace with Qinfaren.

He looks for any markings, or pattern to see if he can make sense of it.

(1  +3 if Nature, +1 if Arcana, +6 if Perception best)

"Has anyone seen one of these before?" Qinfaren asks as he examines the large triangle. "I've seen something similar for telling time, but that's a big circle."

Bjorn approaches the ring examing them for himself, "I am not sure what their purpose could be."

He begins tapping on some of the menhirs, "Perhaps it is an ancient holy place? It seems almost spiritual, peaceful even. It seems to contrast with the hostilities in the town. It reminds me of some of the stories that my tribe tell of certain gods. Gods that just wanted people between the tribes and the rest of the world."

Qinfaren looks and fails to identify any purpose of the stones.

"But, yes, let's find somewhere to set up camp. Although, wasn't it this town that was having trouble with some wolves? That might add to their rude behaviour."

Qinfaren runs his hands across the menhirs and smiles.

"What if we camped here next to this place?" Qinfaren suggests.

He then shakes his head at the mention of the wolves.

"I wonder if any of the Ten-Towns doesn't have something threatening them."

"It's not their fault they got wolf problems. We had our own just coming to Good Mead. And we are still neighbors. I'll go try to talk to them" Ricky kicks a stone and goes to find a villager.

     Bàn watches Ricky wander off back towards town for a bit then shrugs.  "Well, if we have to wait here for him to return I guess we set up camp here," he suggests and then starts examining the stones himself and trying to recall if he knew anything about them. 

Investigation: 22

History: 11

Arcana: 5

     After studying the rocks for a while, Bàn also suggests that "If we are camping here we should check for wolf tracks and make sure we're not on a route they like to take..." and then proceeds to do just that.

Nature: 20

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