[D&D 5e] Un-Civil Disorder on the Border IC

[Vikingkingq]

It is late summer sliding into autumn as you arrive in the town of Yellowgrass, and the chill breeze cuts nicely through the blazing sun and the choking dust of the road. It isn't a big town, but Yellowgrass does sit on the Great Northern Road so it gets a fair share of trade from merchants and the like, and you'd heard that there might be work for individuals of your...unique skill set there.

Up ahead at the crossroads which doubles as the town's market square, there is a low stone well where travelers can slake their thirst. You pause for a few minutes to savor the crisp coolness of the water and as you do, your eye is drawn to a large wooden message board that's been erected next to the well. Alongside faded advertisements for upcoming harvest festivals, lost livestock, and the like, there is a fresh announcement. Written in a bold hand on fresh vellum, you read:

SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE!

His Lordship Lucan MacBethan, Laird of Passfurd and Castellan of the Last Tower seeks men of ability and experience in arms for employment in protecting his lawful rights and property and the persons of his servants as they undertake their sworn duties in these disorderly times.

To men who prove their worth and loyalty in his service, his Lordship will provide some ten gold crowns per septimanae as well as hospitality under his roof.

Those seeking to serve under the banner of Clan MacBethan should seek out Captain Rebus McIntyre in the common room of the Wheat Sheaf so that they may make their mark on the duty roster.

Signed,
Captain Rebus McIntyre,
agent and proxy for his Lordship

.

The Wheat Sheaf, a modest inn that boasts a jaundiced thatch roof and a large covered porch area, stands at one of the corners of the crossroads not ten yards from where you stand.

Stepping through the swinging doors, you blink as your eyes adjust to the relative gloom. The tavern's common room is dominated by large trestle tables arranged parallel to the bar. Being barely noon in the middle of the week, there's mostly just some old men playing dominoes, sipping at their first pint to make it last. However, there's also a few tables scattered along the edge of the common room, and at one of the tables you find a rumpled, unshaven man wearing a somewhat faded blue and black surcoat over a chainmail shirt, perusing a set of well-worn papers, puffing idly on a cigar end, which he occasionally taps out into his upturned helmet on the desk.

As you approach him, the man looks up at you somewhat askance and says, "can I help you?"

[SNIPER4HIRE7]

Solaire casts his eyes about the inn taking in the decor, his eyes turn to the strangers who have been his companions on his journey so far a motley crew in his opinion, but he wasn't one to judge others too harshly. He steels himself with a deep breath and nervously steps up to the counter is this the Wheat Sheaf? i..i heard that Lordship Lucan MacBethan is hiring adventurers he meekly asks his voice barely above a whisper as he fiddle's with the holy symbol around his neck in a manner that seems to calm him. After he finishes speaking he takes a step back his eyes gazing at the floor

[Harthar]

The journey had been a long one for the group but they had finally arrived at their destination, Yellowgrass; they had met roughly a month ago and since then tentative bonds of companionship had been forged, though the bowman still did not trust any of them enough for them to be called friends. That would come with more time and experience; building those bonds through their deeds and actions, most likely through instances of great peril.

Harthar and the group had come to Yellowgrass merely hours before, timing their arrival with what seemed like the hottest part of the day. Having stayed off the roads to avoid any unwanted attention and banditry that was no prevalent in these regions, they had emerged from the treeline and cut across a field of corn that was almost ready for harvest. The cover was sufficient to avoid any stairs or raised eyebrows as they managed to meet up with the road and assume the guise of simple travelers for the last stretch into the town. Shortly after entering the town and following the Great Northern Road they hit a small stone wall. There they paused briefly to drink from the cool waters, refill their no doubt empty water skins, and wash some of the dirt from their faces that they had accumulated from their travels.

The bowman glanced at a peasant who was filling a small bucket with water, the fellow had been staring at him for sometime now and he was beginning to get nervous. Harthar when standing erect was just over six feet tall, his long dirty blonde hair loosely falling about well built, tanned shoulders was indeed a specimen of human form to be stared at. His hair's length, although curly, cascaded downward to end just below his shoulder blades, though it did nothing to obscure the icy blue-grey orbs that met the stare of the stranger from within sockets of golden brown skin; they were almost caverns of ice, such was their depth. His hard, rough, and angular jaw was set in a semi-permanent expression of emotionless, which was both pleasant to look at but also complimented his already frighteningly powerful visage. An aura of confidence and power surrounds this warrior of the bow. "Best move along..." he said quietly, his tone holding the same confidence and power that his visage inspired.

Turning from the man he noticed the rest of his party had moved on and so he followed, finding the urban setting not to his liking but containing his discomfort easily, for now. As he moved away from the well in pursuit of his fellows he noticed the same announcement that they no doubt would have. Pausing for a moment to read it in its entirety before continuing onward, jogging for a few moments to catch up; he know knew to where they were headed and it was not very far at all.

He was the last to pass through the swinging doors of the Wheat Sheaf Inn, entering its common room. Moving to the side after entering he took a moment to scan the room of its occupants and was not surprised when his eyes rested upon a gruff looking man who may at one point in time have been a reasonably good looking man at arms. Following the rest of his companions, though not rushing by any means, he arrived at the table with the rest just in time to hear the priest amongst them speak his first words. Not wishing to interrupt or take any of the attention away from the priest, Harthar moved casually to one side, setting his backpack against the same wall he ended up leaning against. He was, he believed, to be one of the more charismatic members of their group, though he made no effort to announce it; for now he was content to be viewed as a simple minion until such time as the need arose to present a different front. Whilst he was silent and immobile, his eyes were far from it; they continued to scan the room and its occupants, though he paid most of his attention to the seated man-at-arms.

[Exsens]

"Gruff," grunted the wood elf. The distinct sound of ivory on ivory would on any given interval float in the air, and his ear will twitch, and eyes will blink in that order. "Not annoying...imposing," mumbling to himself, "very distinct, doesn't blend well," stated he with moist lips. The refreshing taste of water was still fresh on his lips, and he sucked on them oh so playfully.

The strange elf that accompanied this group of adventures has been a bag of trouble and discomfort in the last month. Committing thievery at every turn and agitating those in his company. He on many occasions has stowed away items from strangers, foes and even allies. Leaving many shops and inns with miscellaneous things to valuable items, and swiping them before leaving and rarely ever getting caught. Many mornings he has been seen with others belongings, such as trinkets, papers, and products of hygiene. Using and storing it as if it was his own; kindly returning it when caught, but only to take it again the next morning.

Robin stops relatively close to the edge of the table. He stands on the side of the upturned helmet only for a few moments, slouching more so then normal. As he peers down inside the helm; examining it's inner linings, as he takes a deep wiff of the tobacco and ash. Lifting it off the table.

"not very imposing..." commented Robin noila.

[Dragonal01]

Coleson was never just a traditional theif, He was always the face, the distraction, the one who covered up for his fellow pilferer's, He was an orphan and always bigger, stronger and usually more charming than his fellows, from a young age he learned to lie, to distract, he used to keep the matron at the orphange occupied so his friends could steal cookies, and this eventually became his line of work, however he learnt how to handle a blade, as insurance for when the plans don't go as intended.

This past month of travelling Coleson had been busy working with Robin to procure several items. and as he follows his companions into the bar he looks around to see any people of interest (people with something worth stealing), whilst he's doing this Solaire speaks to the barman sheepishly. Hearing his companion he steps towards the bar, patting the Cleric on the shoulder and says. "I believe what my compaion here is trying to say, is that my friends and I are a consortium of freelancers, we have heard that the good Lord Lucan MacBethan is seeking our brand of assistance, and that if we wished to show interest in his offer, we should seek out one Captain Rebus McIntyre, in this fine establishment, so would you be so kind as to direct us to him?" Colesan says, ending with a winning smile. "Also a pint of Mead if you please." flicking over a silver piece.

[SNIPER4HIRE7]

Solaire nods his head a little in thanks for coleson's intervention as he continues to fiddle with the symbol around his neck he coughs to clear his throat one ale for me as well please he says as he reaches into his pockets and extracts a silver coin. don't panic keep calm remember what father Geoffrey said, Pelor watches over us

[gallagher]

As Farkle steps in, he almost gets stepped on.

Hey, I'm walking here! he shouts. When nobody seems to notice him even after yelling, he says even louder I'M HERE TO TRY AND HELP HIS LORDSHIP, CAN ANYBODY HELP ME?

Farkle continues to get looked over

[Vikingkingq]

(At the Bar, A Minute Prior)

The bartender, a balding gentlemen in his mid-40s with a barrel chest and the beginnings of a beer belly to match, walks down the bar when Brother Solaire steps up to ask his question. "Aye, this is the Wheat Sheaf, best tavern for twenty miles if I do say so meself. Then again, it is the only tavern for twenty miles!" He cracks up a bit at what is clearly his one and only joke. "Sorry, Brother, where was I? Lord Lucan...oh yes, that's the fellow the good Captain over there said he was working for. Over in the corner table there."

"I believe what my compaion here is trying to say, is that my friends and I are a consortium of freelancers, we have heard that the good Lord Lucan MacBethan is seeking our brand of assistance, and that if we wished to show interest in his offer, we should seek out one Captain Rebus McIntyre, in this fine establishment, so would you be so kind as to direct us to him?" Colesan says, ending with a winning smile. "Also a pint of Mead if you please." flicking over a silver piece.

When Coleson mentions Rebus, he says "Are ye, now? Well then, ye'll want to see the good Captain over there, like I was telling the priest here. Always good to see a man of the cloth who doesn't turn his nose up at good, sun-kissed wheat beer, best in twenty miles." He catches the coin deftly, and continues on with his patter, smiling in return. "'Fraid we don't sell mead, sir, not much bee-keeping 'round these parts. How 'bout a lovely pint of wheat beer, though? We also have a good stout."

He pours two pints and slides the golden brew over the counter with an encouraging nod, scooping up Solaire's coins as he does so.


At Captain Rebus' Table, A Minute Later

"Oi, give that back," the captain snaps, and reaches out to grab his helmet back, distracted by Farkle's shouting. He gives the group a slightly puzzled look, and asks. "Well, who's in charge here? And for gods' sake, someone control that child," he adds, nodding at Farkle.

Excens:

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Opposed Dex check.

Rebus rolls (1d20+1)[21]

[Harthar]

Icy grey-blue orbs watched the encounter as the helmet was snatched back. Not a good start by any means, especially when this fellow would be bestowing upon the group a small amount of trust in allowing them into his Lord's property. Not to mention Farkle's boisterous activity. "Farkle, sit and have a drink, its been a long journey and its obviously made you irritable." growled the human, his eyes gracing the halfling, conveying in both tone and emotion that the sorcerer should do as he was told.

With an audible grunt the bowman pushed off from the wall, lent down and shifted his backpack next to a seat at the table which he pulled out with his free hand. "Is this seat taken, Captain?" He spoke respectfully, his tone still quiet, though it carried quiet easily. "I guess you could say that we haven't got a leader of sorts just yet, haven't really had a need for one on the road." If allowed he would take the seat which was across from the man. "I do for now though, or until the rest say otherwise... or our employer confirms the appointment." He smiled slightly, his rough unshaven jaw spoiling the effect his smile usually had, though that was obviously responded to more by the opposite sex.

"The name is Harthar. The rest can introduce themselves once our business is concluded here, whichever way it might go. You are hiring, and we are seeking gainful employment; tell us more about what you need, our skill set is diverse." He sat back, catching the attention of a waitress and signalling for her to come over. He glanced back at the other man, "A drink perhaps?" He did not wait for the mans answer before turning back to the newly arrived woman, "Hello ma'am, if you would be so kind as to bring us a jug of that good stout I overheard the barkeep speaking of, we'd be most appreciated." He gave her his winning smile, only slightly sullied by the roughness of his appearance, though it might have given him a roguish quality that was not unseen in such places. With the smile a coin was fished from his trouser pocket and placed in her hand. He watched her for a moment as she moved away and then turned his gaze back to the man across from him.

[SNIPER4HIRE7]

Solaire looks around for the seat furthest from the captain seeing it empty he takes his seat silently. he raises his glass and takes a small mouthful as the bitter taste hits fills tongue he suppresses the urge to grimace, looking at the captain he speaks in a voice that can barely be heard above the uproar of the inn Um captain s..sir Farkle isn't a..a child upon finishing the sentence Solaire casts his eyes about the room desperatly about the trying to avoid eye contact with the captain, Maybe i should have kept quiet what if i angered him or insulted his intelligence

[Exsens]

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Opposed Dex: +3
Exsens roll (1d20+3)[13]

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Sleight of hand: +6
(1d20+6)[23]

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Bluff: +2
(1d20+2)[13]

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Stealth
(1d20+6)[13]

Dex Contest: Fail
It seem the captain had grasp his fingers on the helmet almost instantly as Robin had attempted to whisk away with it. Preventing him from proceeding any further with the smell. The white of the elves eyes were full bloom as the elf darted them towards Rebus claiming possession of the said item and it's immediate retrieval. Carefully and gently the elf lifted one hand off the side of the helm, readjusting the other hand below. He placed the tip of his middle finger on the captain's knuckles before sliding down them, onto the helm and into the ash before grabbing less then a teaspoon with his point, middle and thumb. Lifting it before the captain's eyes as delude this was the subject of his interest.

Bluff:13
"Do you need this?" Stated he.
"I understand if you do, it's very valuable..." a sentence filled with irony and sarcasm, yet at surface value from the elf's tone of voice it yield pure interest.

Sleight of hand:23
With the captain's attention wavering between the temperamental halfling, Solaire's corrections and the Harthar's confidence, he wiggle the helm from the captain's fingers and placed it on the table slowly and carefully. Readjusting, only to mimic it's previous position before his fingering had removed it from it's place. Dirtying the tips of each finger with the ashes he had obtained before speaking.

Stealth:13
Sitting down beside Solaire, attempting to remove his presence for the moment. As the air of tension was rising between the strangers. "Gruff..." the sounds of dominioes in the air was still in the air and still imposing.

[gallagher]

Sitting down, Farkle does his best to look more cheery, despite the fact he was just called a child.

I was once a child, but that was long ago. Name's Farkle, or The Remarkable Farkle McBride. But if I am going to be thought of as a child here maybe someone else should order my drink for me... Farkle ends that last statement with a big grin

[Vikingkingq]

Captain Rebus allows the elf to take as much tobacco ash as he likes, tapping the helmet empty on the side of the table before jamming it back over his head and pointedly ignoring Robin in favor of Harthar.

"Right, Mr. Harthar. As the sign says, His Lordship is looking for soldiers to bolster his current forces. There's been some...disorder in the valley over the last couple of months, bad business with some hotheaded peasants." He accepts the beer and takes a slow pull, gathering his words. "Some of the lord's bailiffs were brutally assaulted when making their rounds, alone you understand, so we need them guarded. Law and order needs to be maintained, and I don't have enough hands to cover the whole of the valley. We've been up and down three counties hiring men, and I was just about to head back home, but I've room for men with...unique skill sets," Rebus says, his eyes going from the obviously martially-trained Harthar and Coleson to encompass the cleric, then the elf and halfling.

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Wisdom/Insight checks, in OOC thread please.

"You would be working under me as guardsmen and deputized Under-sheriffs, as I'm Sheriff as well as Guard Captain for my sins," he says, indicating a badge on his sleeve. "Your duties would be to accompany the bailiffs once per week as they go village by village enforcing the law, and to make a daily patrol of the lands around the castle. Pay is ten gold per week, and there's room and board available up t'castle."

If anyone accepts or the group accepts, he'll shake each by the hand and asks them to either sign or make their mark in a log book he pulls out from the mess of papers.

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Int/Local or Societal Lore check, in OOC.

Farkle:

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"Sorry," Rebus says with a start after hearing Farkle's decidedly un-childlike tenor. "Didn't see you were an halfling there, lad. Don't meet many of your kind in the valley, as a rule. You do know how to use that sword on your back, yes?"

[gallagher]

O' course I know how to use it. You swing it at the guy you want to hit, and he drops dead.

[Vikingkingq]

O' course I know how to use it. You swing it at the guy you want to hit, and he drops dead.

Rebus nods. "Right then, sign here."

[gallagher]

O' course I'll sign. I could use the gold and a daily meal!

[Harthar]

"Just Harthar will do, sir." He spoke matter-of-factly, before remaining silent for the rest of the sheriff's words. Once the older man was finished speaking, the offer now given to the group, Harthar sat back again in the chair, and brought the mug of stout to his lips, taking his first sip and savoring the taste for a few moments before swallowing. He was not the most intelligent man, he knew that and had come to terms with it over the course of his life. However he believed that when he took the time to contemplate the words of others, to really think them over, he would come up with the best solution. Thus, he allowed some of the others to speak up and either accept or decline the offer of work before making his own pledge. Oh, he was going to accept, that was not in question; he needed to gold and he wanted to help these people. He also wanted to forward his own skills and the perfect way to do that was doing exactly what the sheriff had explained was what they were being hired for.

What Harthar was contemplated was questions and concerns; ways that would forward his own agenda as well as that of the groups. At the end of the day he was looking out for himself most of all, he owed these people nothing, just as they owed him nothing and would be looking out for themselves also. He took all the time he needed to drink almost half of the mug before he spoke up.

"Pay of ten gold per week, room and board included? How about some proper equipment? Or perhaps the time and materials of your Lord's smiths, fletcher and tailor?" a questioning brow was raised to accompany that charismatic smile. "I for one could use some more arrows and a piece of armour or two..."

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OOC: Sorry, was going to roll for a charisma check, but didn't know if I actually needed to so I deleted it. >_<

Oh, found a way to get it back. Yay!
(1d20+3)[6]

[Exsens]

"Not very attractive," proclaimed Robin while carefully swiping the spoils of his last interaction into a white handkerchief from the table. He then put the ashes away in his bag before continuing to speak.

"Equipment and services would be good," agreed Noila. "But 5 pieces of gold for every peasant suppressed, would be good too." Boldly stated he as he scratched away at the back of his head while pondering about several thoughts of the venture ahead, upholding law and acquiring funds for the Lord. 'Seemed like trouble, felt like trouble' thought he in repetition and as he continued to dig his nails into the base of his hair.

"You agree?" stated the elf.

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Charisma Check
(1d20-1)[1]

[SNIPER4HIRE7]

Solaire looks to see what his companions are doing, the captains words ring alarm bells in his mind um...guys could we talk before we ar sign anything p..please after this Solaire gets up and walks to a quiet corner of the bar

[Vikingkingq]

As the halfling and the priest scribble their names down in his ledger, the Captain continues his conversation with the others.

"Pay of ten gold per week, room and board included? How about some proper equipment? Or perhaps the time and materials of your Lord's smiths, fletcher and tailor?" a questioning brow was raised to accompany that charismatic smile. "I for one could use some more arrows and a piece of armour or two..."

"Equipment and services would be good," agreed Noila. "But 5 pieces of gold for every peasant suppressed, would be good too."

"We have an armory you can draw from as needed - nothing fancy, but we do have armor and we can certainly run to ammunition, although I don't expect much in the way of shooting to be taking place," Rebus says, taking another swallow of the wheat beer.

When Robin mentions suppressing the peasants, the captains eyes narrow dangerously. "You're not meant to be suppressing anyone, elf. You're meant to be upholding the law and keeping the peace; if someone raises a hand against the peace, you're do stop them as peacefully as you can. And if you work for me, you work by my rules, do we understand each other?"

[Harthar]

Harthar lent forward and nodded, taking the quill from the last one to have used it and then signing his name. "We have an agreement, Sir." He pushed the jug of stout closer to the Captain and then finished his own mug, grunted at the taste that he hated so much. He never usually drank, tried to stay away from the stuff, considering its effects and how they hindered him using his bow. "The rest is yours, I hate the stuff." A grin and he picked his backpack up and returned to leaning against the wall. That was where he waited until everyone else had signed or declined and they were ready to move on.

[Vikingkingq]

(After the party has asked any questions and signed up)

Standing up from the table, Captain Rebus buckles on a scarred breastplate that's been lying on a bench. "Right then, we'll be off in an hour, so get yourselves ready and meet me by the well outside."

He gathers up the papers and the ledgers and strides out the door.

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You have enough time to buy traveling supplies in addition to your starting equipment if you want them.
Also, if you want to talk to the old men playing dominoes or the barman, a Charisma check may get you answers to any questions you might have about Passfurd. Ask and answer in OOC.

About an hour later, the party assembles back at the well, where a horse and wagon piled with supplies are waiting, attended by a teenager in the livery of Clan MacBethan. Captain McIntyre rides up on a grey draft horse and nods at his assembled men. "This is young Rory, from t'castle. You can walk or ride as you choose, but it's seven day's long march to Passfurd town. So let's be off."

[Harthar]

Harthar picked up his backpack and put it on, watching as the Captain exited the Inn. He glanced at his fellow companions, "I am going to ask a few questions around here and then proceed to the market, your free to join me if you'd like... if not I'll meet you at the well with the Captain." Having finished he moved first to the waitress as she happened to be close to the table they had been sitting at.

"Excuse me miss, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I happen to be on my way to a place known as Passfurd; have you heard of it?" He waited for her yes or no before asking the real questions, "Can you tell me anything about it and the situation that has befallen it and those who rule it? He would proceed to question her if any interesting answers were available. When he was finished with her he would give her two silver coins for her time and then move onward to the bar.

Attracting the barman's attention he would ask the same questions; first about whether the man had heard of Passfurd and then what the situation was. Depending on how helpful the man was depended on whether he received the tip of 2 silver or not. Once the barman was questioned he would move on, out of the common room and toward the market, there to purchase some more items, and riding horse, and whilst he did that he would question the merchants and store owners, asking the same questions; though these fellows he would not tip nearly as much.

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Another 4-5sp gone from tipping if he receives answers justifying it.

All of his questioning and shopping would take him forty-five minutes to an hour before he arrived back at the well and rejoined his companions and his new employer. He would not say a word as they were briefed about the long ride ahead. He simply waited for them to set off and began to follow.

[Dragonal01]

Coleson, after briefly introducing himself & signing the papers, follows after Harthar asking questions, but this time addressed at the inn's patrons.
"Ahh, excuse me my fine fellow, I wonder if I could trouble you for some information? Do you know of the town of Passfurd? If so could you please tell about the area, as I'll soon be travelling there, and it's always nice to know where to go & where to avoid etcetera."
If the patron offer good information Coleson shall by him a beer and have a drink with them, before he too goes to the market to buy a horse.
Roll

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CHA check: (1d20+3)[5]
or Diplomacy check if you find it applicable (1d20+6)[24]

[SNIPER4HIRE7]

Solaire wandered the town purchasing ingredients for healing potions. Solaire as he wanders feels he has made a mistake in some way but its to late to refuse the contract now he feels, as he wanders the town he passes coleson, keep your guard up something feels off he warns before hastily walking off stuffing sweet smelling herbs into a pouch at his belt

[Exsens]

The elf felt a an odd sensation as rebus finished his statement. He felt the fancy taste of contradictions and pride gleam all over the captain's face. 'What caused this' he thought to himself as he replied, "Imposing peace...." He paused while making his mark on the parchment handed to him, agreeing to his terms. "right?"

Later on,

After finishing sending a letter to his contact informing him about Lord's Lucan's current actions, the attacks on bailiffs, and how he was relocating to Passfurd town, the elf was cruising around town with Coleson. He was attempting to pass the time before they had to head out. Hearing the cleric's warning udder, the elf follows behind curiously he whispers, "You seem to have knowing......of the venture ahead." The elf remembered the cleric having a worried eyes at the inn and creating distant before finally deciding to sign with the others. Now this passive warning seemed to the elf that Solaire's lips had something more to say. "You may speak to me, I won't steal your trust." said the eleven thief.

[Vikingkingq]

"Ahh, excuse me my fine fellow, I wonder if I could trouble you for some information? Do you know of the town of Passfurd? If so could you please tell about the area, as I'll soon be travelling there, and it's always nice to know where to go & where to avoid etcetera."

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The old men know generally of Passfurd - it's about seven days to the north, right up against the mountain (right by a mountain pass, hence the name) where the border with the neighboring kingdom is found. Passfurd town's the last stop on the Northern Road, right by the highest ford of the Tumblestones River.

Merchants quite often come through Yellowgrass heading to Passfurd - it's a quite fertile valley, with plenty of wheat, barley, and rye for sale, as well as some regionally well-known beers and distilled liquors that are produced in the town of Passfurd; there's also abundant timber and stone and an iron mine up in the mountains, so the towns of Passfurd is also known as a place to buy sawed timber, dressed stone, wood- and metalworks, although apparently there hasn't been much of the last recently.

In terms of places to stay, there aren't a lot of choices: the town has a coaching inn that caters to travelers, and a more expensive tavern that visiting merchants prefer.

[Vikingkingq]

Six Days Later:

Travel up the North Road is relatively uneventful as the party rolls by a handful of towns much like Yellowgrass. As you head north out of the fertile plains, the land becomes gradually more hilly with clumps of trees, and the false summer tips over into a bright, crisp, autumn.

You travel for forty miles or ten hours a day, breaking for a meal at mid-day and stopping when the sun goes down. The cart is easily pulled off the road, and a simple camp is made, with people fetching firewood and water by rota. The countryside isn't particularly dangerous, but Captain Rebus insists on having a watch at night. Thankfully, between seven people, that means only about an hour and a half, so you all get a decent night's sleep.

As you get closer to Passfurd, the hills become more pronounced, and the trees gradually shift from deciduous to more evergreen and become more numerous. A dark line against the horizon eventually grows into a far off line of mountains heading roughly northeast to southwest.

On the morning of the sixth day of travel, a smudge of smoke on the horizon signals the presence of Passfurd Town. The group packs up the camp and continues the trek, with Captain Rebus leading the way on his draft horse. The trees begin to thicken into forest as you press on, eager to finally get off the road.

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Spot checks for everyone please.

[Exsens]

As the days seem to roll by like the trees in the horizon endlessly. Sun and moon tracked over them with ease and sway as they dragged along the the days and nights. Finding himself his thoughts lost in the sea of the sky as time went by while nibbling on the twine doll tied to his hair, day in and day out.

Like the many mornings before, robin had taken to foot beside the cart. He carried with him 5 daggers in sheaved in holsters through out the back of his belt, rapier to the left, bow and quiver with 20 arrows on his back, and a handkerchief filled with ashes in his breeches pocket. He left the rest of his stuff on the cart, as to not over exert himself.

"Very passive...." commented the wood elf.

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Benfits:
- Spy: Training(+3)
- Wood Elf: Keen Senses(advantage, 1 extra roll)

Spot check:
(1d20+3)[19]
(1d20+3)[5]

[gallagher]

The days going by have made Farkle grow restless. It has been days since he has used his magic. People already look at him differently for being a halfling, best not to show them any more skill than with his sword.

The incoming village, deduced from the smoke in the distance, brings a little light to his eye, however. He could use a little break from the monotony.

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sorry, i rolled in the OoC thread, and its too good that i am hesitant to roll again!