Northlands Campaign

"Affirmative, Corporal.  Ask at the desk for a bunk assignment.  Sorry, kitchen in the barracks is down for the night, but you can get a hot meal at the tavern.  Ah," he says as the Private returns with someone you presume as a healer and another member of the guard, "come, I could use a snack and pint myself."  He speaks quietly to the Private, who nods, and then he beckons you to follow him in the direction of the tavern.

You jump over the side of the wagon and head for cover.  As you are clearing the road, you hear "huh, wha, oh get back here you!  A dare say I am beginning to dislike birds," as footfalls pick up pace.  You spot a denser thicket and slide under like a runner sliding into home plate (okay, so your character doesn't understand that, but you get the drift) as the voice and footfalls continue to close.  Mere moments after you come to a stop, you look out from under the scrub bushes and foot plant directly in front of you before vanishing as the sounds slowly begin to recede.  Seems like your hiding spot worked.

The squirrel starts, then cocks its head to one side, it then chitters "that one be only two-leg this one sees in several suns."  You understand 'that one' refers to you.

As you walk into the tavern, the Sergeant waves at the bartender and calls, "my usual, and a plate and mug for the Corporal here, we'll be at the back corner table."  While not overly crowded, you have to weave around a few tables behind the Sergeant, arriving at a table occupied by male dwarf and female halfling in watch uniforms.  Seeing the two of you approach, they move to make room for you at the table.  "Private Ironstone," he motions to the dwarf, "and Corporal Oakenstump," indicating the halfling.  They each nod and raise their mug in greeting.

Bart runs back to the wagon, unlocks the brake and slaps the ox to make the ox take off with the wagon leaving the remaining kidnapper stranded or at least make him have to chase this run away wagon. Animal handling: 22

With a bellow and a snort, the ox takes of plodding down the road.  From a distance off to the side of the road you hear a muffled yell, although you cannot make out exactly the words, you think you catch something about "son of a motherless goat."  You catch movement through the scrub, it seems the fellow is angling to intercept the wagon.

Judging by the general garb, a lot of the patrons are local farmers.  You see a few others in watch uniforms as well.  The remaining few look like merchants or caravan workers.  All seem to be generally open and friendly.  You no sooner finish looking around than the server comes up with a loaded tray, as she sets a plate loaded with food in front of you with a mug of ale, and a glass of wine and a sweetroll in front of the Sergeant, then spins and is gone.  "Dig in," the Sergeant says to you, "it may look plain, but there's a local herbalist that finds the most amazing flavors to spice things up.  Hope you enjoy!"  as he takes a large bite out of his own sweetroll.

You hear a knock on the barn door, then the bar being moved.  The door opens to Bethann and the morning sun, "Good morning, good folks.  Arn is already at work in the fields, but I heard voices as I was going to tend the animals.  I trust you all slept well?"

Your three companions listen intently as you recount your experiences.  Once you conclude, the Sergeant say "Jolly good thing you managed to get free, and glad you made it here in one piece.  We will get those unfortunates healed up, and assuming everything checks out, they will likely be heading to the mines for a while.  We have heard nothing of the like from any other travelers, and seen nothing of their like either."  The others shake their heads confirming the information.  "But, once those two you brought in are back on their feet, we will definitely see what kind of information we can extract to try and unravel this."

A look of sadness comes over her face, "each has their own preference, both have been performed here.  We have a small cemetery atop the hill to the East.  Burial or pyre there would be fine with the likes of us.  Winds will carry the smoke away from us there if you do build a pyre."

The three of them look over the list and map, shaking their heads, the halfling hands the papers back to you, "the map is crude, but can only represent the moors and shows a path leading deep into them.  I've been along the edge of the moors and have not seen any tracks leading that way.  Either these draws are intended to mislead folks, or they have done one heckuva job disguising where that track starts.  Granted, we don't send patrols into the swamp any longer, but we do patrol the fringe regularly.  If this is accurate, the track would start somewhere a bit to the east of us here.  Wish I could offer more help."  The others nod in agreement with her assessment.

You continue onward heading in a generally northeasterly direction seeing few signs of habitation over the next few hours.  By early afternoon you come upon cultivated fields and see signs of a town maybe two hours further along.  Moorsedge is in sight.