A Journey through the Witherlands

[galenbd]

Angharad shakes her head at the dwarf, "I never met him before I came up to see you. I was just pointing out the benefits to having an outsider have possession of your token."

"I have my own sense of honor. I didn't trade it away before and I don't plan to give it to him. I won't give it you now, but I do plan to parley in good faith. However, since it's so important to you, perhaps you'd like to handle this sooner rather than later."

She opens her hand to the tiefling, "Perhaps you'd like to accompany us to the armory and make sure I get a good deal. I wouldn't want to undervalue it after all."

[Starbin]

Therros / Charack

Therros flexed his fingers, getting a feel for the game. Walking over, he reached into the pile of knives, randomly selecting one - interestingly enough, he drew the balanced throwing knife again. Then gave it a spin and let fate pick its next victim ... this time it pointed to Bruhma. Nodding to the drunk orc, he grabbed the knife and took his place at the other side of the table. With a single breath, he hurled the blade towards the far wall. As soon as it left his hand, he grinned, knowing he had thrown it true.

Spoiler: Therros Mini-game, Rnd 2

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Knife - (1d12)[10], Target - (1d2)[1]
Eyes open: Throw - (1d20+6)[24] + knife/range bonus or penalty (0) = Total 24
If necessary: Damage - (1d4-1)[0]
For opposing throws, if necessary: Will saves - (2d20)[1][15](16)

[gr8artist]

As Audriel speaks, the two Thorans seem to get confused."Types?" Keighan asks with a hint of confusion, "Do you mean 'people,' miss?" He chuckles nervously and strolls away to begin gathering students.
His teacher, however, seems even less sure of this course of action. "Yes, right this way, Lady Audriel. We have a small apothecary set up in this building. There are a few toxins laying about, and a positively foul odor from some of the previous experiments, but I think the area will suit your... purposes... adequately." She leads the way past some tables and private chambers, to a large wall with several very old doors. She unlocks one of them and lights a candle to bring inside. The area is small, even by subterranean standards, with enough room for two tables and a pair of chairs. There are several pots and bottles containing an assortment of substances, and one rather large cylinder of well-crafted glass containing some dark, smokey form rolling and churning slowly.
"This chamber will suffice, no?"

Jolin and his companion arise from the table, each in a very different mood. The gruff dwarf is the first to speak, "Ye know who I am, but I dinnae' know you. I'll need tae know a bit more 'bout ya if'n I'm gonna be handin' ov'r tha' city's arms 'n armors to some half-whelped lass from tha' city o' twigs 'n berrehs." He then begins making way toward the gullet, where most of his devotion reside. "Talk as ye' walk, lassie. 'Round 'ere we like ta' stay pr'ductive."
The tiefling steps up beside Angharad and introduces himself. "Z'hel Fraust, though I admit my name is a tad misleading." He holds out his hand, though you realize his skin is calcified and cracked, and his touch distractingly warm. "Apparently my ancestors favored a bit of irony. Regardless, rest assured that I'll help you get the full value of that favor you hold."
"Move yer arses, ladies, we dinnae' got all damn day!" Apparently Jolin is in a hurry, or just displeased at the situation in general.
"Perhaps we'll have more time to talk once we're on the surface," Z'hel prompts, before falling back and following closely. "Oh, and is that your war-beast over there? The great canine looking longfully this way?"

Bruhma flinched quickly as the flying blade buried itself in the wall near his neck. His eyes were wide for a moment, before he burst out laughing, spitting a good bit of alcohol all over the floor.
"Dash' wunna' da' bes'shots I 'ver seen, Charack. Roojey, ju' shee dis?" He plucked the knife from the wall and tossed it into the box merrily. "Now'sit my turn..."
Bruhma pulled a well-crafted knife from the box and gave it a sloppy spin. It came to rest pointed at Therros, and it then only took them a few moments to get into position. Bruhma took another swig of alcohol, and then threw the knife as well as one might expect a lumbering drunkard to do so. It stuck Therros in the thigh, but the wound didn't seem too severe.
"I'ma shorry 'bout 'dat mate. Shhhikka, I dun' stuck ya' good. Mebbe I need ta' lay off da' joose."
Ruje muttered something as he waited for his turn. His face seemed filled with contempt, though whether it was for Therros, Bruhma, the game, or something else, Therros was not certain. When ready, he reached in and pulled a shiny blade from the box. He set it down and spun it, and snarled maliciously as it landed on Bruhma.
"Step on up, bruddah', lemme' show you how dis game is won."
"Ya'ain gotta' show me, ROOGEY, I dun beat ju at dis more times'n I c'n count." Bruhma seems to be in a good enough mood, though the look of disgust on Ruje's face triples when Bruhma addresses him mockingly.
As Bruhma steps into position, Ruje turns briefly before letting fly a wicked, careless toss, almost directly at Bruhma's abdomen. The blade sticks and Bruhma winces painfully before laughing loudly.
"Oww, watchit ja' litta' bussa. Ju' can' throw na' betta' than me sista. Hah!" He pulls the bloody knife from his abdomen and tosses it into the box. "Make it yer turn now, donnit?" He turns a questioning gaze toward Therros as he sits and plucks the wolf peg from among the pile. He places it in his second spot and then looks at Therros' scorekeeping track. "Hey, Charack... how come ju' don' pick yer peg yet?" He chuckles loudly as he pulls out the beetle-headed peg. "A charack fo' litta' Charack... 's perfect, haha."

[galenbd]

Angharad shakes Z'hel Fraust's hand and replies, "I'm Angharad lately from Seryn. It's nice to meet you."

Uncertain as to how introduce herself to the dwarf who is may be holding a grudge for simply possessing a token of his.

She follows him outside, silent and uncertain. When he asks about the wolf, she looks at him surprised. "He is not mine. He is Coli. He travels with me. I didn't expect you to be aware of animals. Not many people would notice. "

[Starbin]

Therros / Charack

Therros' eyes narrowed slightly as he Ruje seemed to get progressively pi$$ed at the way the game was going. He pondered for a moment, wondering what his tact should be. He didn't really care about cheating, but it was the manner in which this seemed to be going that disturbed Therros. Only a fool thought there was actually honor among thieves ... but you had to pick and choose when and where to cheat. This also seemed to be about more than just the game ... if Ruje was trying to make a play for stepping up the ladder of roguish success, Therros wasn't sure if that boded good or bac for him.

In the end, Bruhma's attitude swayed the boggart - where Ruje seemed to have a chip on his shoulder and take offense to everything, Bruhma was more the likeable meat-head. Besides, Bruhma had invited him into the group ... and he'd bet crowns to coppers Ruje was one of the ones that didn't agree.

Reaching down into the set of knives, he pulled out the same blade Ruje had just flung, noting it was not a great choice the game - while well-crafted, the silver made it unwieldy and awkward. "Ya know, this close t'winnin', I don't wantcha thinkin' I'll take the easy route. Let's take this off-balance bugger ..." Smiling, he spun the knife, letting his fingers aid the blade before giving Ruje a grin as it pointed directly at him. "Lookie, lookie, Tusker cookie! Hope my next throw's better'n yers!" Stepping to his spot, he paused, then grinned again. "Better make it even more sportin' ... where's that rag?" Taking the cloth, Therros looked knowingly at Ruje, balancing the knife for a moment, then swiftly tied the blindfold on. Rearing back, he paused for effect, then let the blade fly ...

Spoiler: Therros Mini-game, Rnd 3

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Okay, so first off, picking the same knife Ruje used. Second, let's roll perception to see if Therros recognizes the poison: Perception - (1d20+4)[22]. Next, rolling sleight of hand to subtlely pick Ruje: SoH - (1d20+8)[18]. Finally, one more sleight, to wipe the blade off before throwing it (so that Ruje doesn't see it). SoH 2 - (1d20+8)[11]

Here's the throw
Concealment (26-100 potentially hits): (1d100)[46]
Blind folded: Throw - (1d20+6)[20] + knife/range bonus or penalty (-1) = Total 19
Final 'screw ya' roll: (1d4)[2]

If necessary: Damage - (1d4-2)[-1]
For opposing throws, if necessary: Will saves - (2d20)[19][18](37)

EDIT: Holy cow ... with that many rolls, I was bound to fail and it looks like I didn't hit him!

[AngryCyc]

Audriel agrees and quickly sets to work preparing everything needed.

[gr8artist]

As Angharad and her companions walk, Z'hel continues speaking. "A pleasure to meet you, miss Lately," Z'hel says politely. "I am a ranger, you see, and I frequent the surface more than nearly any member of Thoros, save Grandmaster Balcan. I've dealt with many a wolf and worg, and I've developed a knack for noticing their movements."
"Quit yer yammerin', cinderstones. We're tryin' tae c'duct bus'ness here. Now, lassy, what're ya' thinkin' ye want fer this ole piece a' steel? We got arms, arm'rs, supplies, tools... Let's get this ov'rwit' a'ready."
Z'hel rolls his eyes as he falls silent. The group is nearing the store-room now, and Jolin opens the door with the turning of a massive wheel. Inside lies the greatest assortment of finely crafted steel that Angharad's ever seen.


Ruje eyes Therros with curiosity as he sees him wipe the blade. When Therros pulls down the blindfold and lets fly a wild toss, Ruje recoils immediately. The shot missed by a good margin, and Ruje drops his head dejectedly.
"Ha ha, well done lad. 'S been longa' than I c'n rememba' sinsh summone tossa dagga' wit' de blin'fold an' dinna hit tha' bloke at the oth'r end." Bruhma is bellowing a deep, raucous laughter, wiping away a single joyful tear. "I guess 'dis mean I'm losin' one o' me prize knifes... Oh well, leas' she goin' to a good han' an' shteady eye."
Ruje rejoins the table, grabs the beetle peg and angrily jams it into the 10th hole, far enough onto the table that Therros can't reach it without climbing on. "Go on then, Shikkabud, pick yer bloody weapon an' we can all go home."
"What? An' miss the celebratin'? New lad jush kick yer kishash at knifes, an' ya' don' think he d'serve a welcomin' party? Drink up, Charack, and toast ta c'ntinya'd health 'n bounty!" Bruhma thrusts a flagon into the air, spilling a little lichor on the table. He seems to be a little clumsy, though his speech is clearing up.


Keighan returns to Audriel's chamber with several other students. He fills the ghul'mar role himself, but he's brought along a young tiefling, a bug-eyed boggart named Violet, an orc with missing tusks, a dwarven lad in training armor, a gnome with oily-black hair, and the young elven girl from before, Lori. Several of the students are confused about what's going on, and a few become apprehensive when their elven teacher explains what you're trying to do.
The dwarf and the orc compete with each other to see who's the most brave, but the boggart lad gets nervous fast. Strangely, Lori is the most hesitant to participate.
"You want to take samples from us, to see how you might develop protection for other members of our race?"
Her teacher nods and begins to explain, though Lori cuts her off.
"Not happenin'. Find another elf." She doesn't storm out, though, but seems to linger out of curiosity. The rest of the students, however, are gradually calmed into sitting still while Angharad collects the blood and tissue samples she'll need.

[Starbin]

Therros / Charack

Events had worked out better than he could have expected. Ruje not only lost, but now knew that Therros' probably had an incling of what had actually transpired. But in wiping the poison free, he had both prevented Ruje from accusing him later, and also let him know that the boggart was not intending to rat him out ... at least not yet. The young orc was still bitter and frustrated, but this was hopefully a lesson that not all was as it seemed.

He smirked as Ruje slammed his peg up high, nodding in approval. "Thanks ... now everyone'll know da winna! But yeah, no need ta get waspish, Ru-jay ... let me grab a sticka and we kin git t'drinkin'" Looking at the array of blades, he smiled and pulled the magic dagger out. "Figure this lil' beauty might be worth a use later. Mind if'n I take it?""

Once he had a blade, Therros slipped the knife away and raised a toast. "Thanks fer playin' fair with th'newborn. Guess yer both alright ... fer tuskers!" With a chuckle, he drank his liquor.

Spoiler: OOC

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Not sure if Bruhma really wants to part with the magic blade ... if he makes something up to keep it (or looks really uncomfortable), then Therros will take the MW cold iron instead. Otherwise, magic dagger it is! Regardless, not bad for taking a couple of shots ...

[galenbd]

The store room is impressive. Seryn being less militant than Thoros, Angharad has never seen such a supply of weaponry. She wanders around commenting on the craftmanship of the weapons and armor she sees. Eventually, she starts focusing on armor and shields more than weapons, looking for Leaf Armor and a Darkwood Shield.

[AngryCyc]

"Lori is it? Not exactly. I want to take samples of as many different races a a possible so I can start looking for patterns in who is more resistant to the miasma and who is not. It may be that elven blood can naturally be enhanced to protect other elves. Or, it might be that elven blood can help us figure out a way to save, for instance, my kind: aasimar. We just don't know anything right now other than that people, good innocent people, everywhere, are hurting and dying. If there's anything that I can do to save ANY people, I'm going to try to do it. I could really use your help with this, not for you, not for me, not even for elven-kind in general. I need your help for the entire world. If you don't feel comfortable with it, I won't force you. But from what I saw from you just a few short hours ago you are a brave end determidd girl, and I'm willing to bet you treasure the value in doing good for others solely for the sake of spreading happiness as far as it can reach. This is another chance for you to be brave, and to protect those who can not protect themselves. Will you do this, for everyone who would be defenseless against the miasma?" Audriel says, trying to appeal the girls bravery and sense of honor.

Spoiler: Diplomacy roll

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(1d20+9)[22]

"For everyone willing to help: let us begin. I am going to try my best to make this as painless as I can, but it might sting a little, like a small pinch in your skin. Be brave and know that your moment of pain will help others fend of much worse trauma." With that she begins taking the required samples, taking extra care to cast Guidance on her hands before she works so as to lessen the chance of injury to those she works on.

Spoiler: Heal

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(1d20+2)[10] and if that one fails to meet the DC, taking 10 ok a second attempt for 12

Finally, Audriel takes the samples and begins splitting all of them into control groups, using her alchemical reagents to set a solution to hold each sample and labeling them individually, allowing her multiple vials of solution that may be exposed to varying levels of miasma later, to be compared to the none-miasmic samples.

After her work is finished she thanks everyone deeply for their support.

[gr8artist]

Lori meets Audriel's well-reasoned plea with steadfast determination, though she offers no explanation and simply dismisses the argument off-handedly. The other students each give their sample, and a few make futile attempts to change her mind, but the end result is the same. Fortunately, the elven teacher offers samples from herself, and your work can continue without too much trouble. The students filter out after giving their samples, and the teacher doesn't linger much longer once she's assured of the students' safety. You get a few complaints from the kids, wincing at the pain, and the teacher does not seem impressed by your medical care.
As the other kids leave, Lori remains behind. She walks up quietly, holding one of the bottles idly.
"I'm sorry, Audriel. I wish... I wish that I could help. Others have tried what you're attempting, and all have failed. Perhaps you can succeed where they did not, I don't know. As for me... there's nothing about my body," she walks to the door and places her palm upon its frame. A thick stream of blood runs down the jagged stone surface, and she pulls her lacerated hand away and wraps a patterned cloth around it. "... there's nothing about me, that can help you."
She walks away, though she gives you one last piece of advice before falling out of sight, "Get some sleep. We'll need to stay on top of our game."


Angharad finds the armor and shield she's looking for, though both bear the crest of Seryn, a tree with braided roots and branches. The pieces are surrounded by other exotic armors from other colonies, like Horvos and Ro'kas. Apparently Thoros keeps a collection of arms and armors not made by their own hand, though the pieces are rarely worn and often neglected here in the store room depths.
Master Jolin is thoroughly pleased that you're interested in the armor and shield, and eager to trade both pieces for his favor. Z'hel eyes the armor suspiciously, though he doesn't question their worth or your motives for the trade. He seems to think the trade is fair, though not an exchange he'd make himself.
After the exchange is made, Jolin hurries you from the store-room, eager to seal the vault and return to his strategies. Z'hel seems torn for a few moments, but decides to assist Jolin in preparations. Before he and the dwarf step away, he steps toward Angharad and takes a slight bow. "M'lady, I shall find you again tomorrow, as final preparations are being made. Your insight into Seryn terrain and wildlife shall be most appreciated." He smiles and leaves in a good mood.
As the two of them leave, Coli strolls up, apparently having following you. Reunited with your companion, you find the desire to sleep pressing on you, after a long and grueling evening.


Therros and Bruhma share several laughs, and Ruje occasionally joins in with a sarcastic or displeased chuckle. The rag-tag group of scoundrels soon leave Bruhma's home, and begin meeting and greeting other members of the secretive organization, sharing at each new home a new greeting, story, or exotic alcohol. Most of the new names and faces pass in a lichor-induced blur, but the name Saballa sticks out, as does the image of a feisty gnome woman with a sparkling blue dragon tattooed over half her face. The tattoo was inset with sapphire studs, and the sparkling image was framed by her dark gray hair. Bruhma seemed to want to spend a longer time than normal at Saballa's house, but Ruje prompted him after about an hour, trying to get the night's activity over with. Reluctantly, the three of you leave Saballa's house, but not before the pale-skinned gnome places her hand on your shoulder and offers a final word of advice.
"Careful out there, Charack. Just a'cause we share a common goal, dinnae' mean everyone's pleased wit' the way things are workin' out 'round here." Saballa shoots a glare at Ruje from the doorway of her house. "Ruje is strong-willed an' he's been risin' the ranks faster'n anyone I seen yet. Though, ta' hear Bruhma talk, yer tha' new leadin' lad, an' everybody's expected ta' just kiss yer boots 'n bask in yer greatness."
She laughs, but as she does so, there is a brooding seriousness in her eyes. "Just be careful ta know whose toes ya can and cannae' step over as ya' make yer way through our little Devotion."
When you catch up to Ruje, you realize that he's practically carrying Bruhma on one shoulder. "I'll take boss-man home, Charack, you find yerself a nice hole ta' burruh' into tonight. We can meet everyone again t'morrah, when we're all sober." He takes a step away, then turns to address you one last time. "Ya' played well, I'll admit. And I reckon I outta' thank you for not tellin' Bruhma I's riggin' tha' game." He then turns away without actually thanking you, leaving you alone in the Forge, staggering drunk and without any directions to the nearest bunk or barracks.

[galenbd]

Uncertain by the young warrior, Angharad turns away from their work and heads back out into the city proper. Battle weary, she wanders through asking directions of those she meets to a clean hostel or inn. Coli trundled along side worrying those she meets.

[Starbin]

Therros

Therros did his best to memorize the people he met, both faces and names, but the night was a bit of a blur. He sobered up considerably when they ended the evening at Saballa's house, listening intently to her warnings. It was both disturbing to know that Ruje was probably as ambitious as the boggart feared, and comforting to know his own assessment had been correct - it appeared even in the land of devotion, people were still people. He shook her hand, smiling himself. "Don't worry, mother, I'm not one ta believe my own hype. I's just lookin' fer a crew to run with ... and all these other devotions are a little too straight-laced fer my talents."

When the trio finally left, ready to head back, Ruje took the boss and left with his not-thank you lingering in the air. For a moment, Therros considered following them, but he knew that he was not in top form, and Ruje was porbably much more sober than he was letting on. Once the orcs were out of sight, he slipped back to Saballa's for a moment, knocking quietly. If she answered, he asked for directions (and a map, if she had one), then gave her a final warning. "I don't know bout hostile take-overs and all that, but the night kin be dangerous to two drunks ... can ya make sure Ruje gets Bruhma home okay? They went that way ..." He figured that was enough of an insurance policy ... it let Saballa know that Ruje had Bruhma, and if anything happened, it would come back to the orc.

[AngryCyc]

Audriel finishes up her work and goes to sleep for the night.

[gr8artist]

Audriel ignores the ominous tone in the elven child's warning, but finishes her preparations for the night. Control samples set aside, and exposure samples sitting in vials of bottled miasma, she's finally ready to sleep for the night. It doesn't take long for her to find a bunk, as there are several sleeping quarters near her area. Soon, she falls asleep.

Saballa answers the door to Therros' knock, smiling coyly. She thanks him for the warning about Ruje, but dismisses his fears quickly.
"Bruhma's a soddin' big bloke and I seen him wrung a Sulka's neck wit' his bare hands. Ruje's too crafty ta try anythin' that reckless. 'Sides, me thinks it's you he's got the green-eye fer, what wit' you winnin' the edge he's been covetin' for months now, and makin' him look like a rudding sod in the process. Nah, Bruhma'll be fine. You should prolly stay in me guest room tonight. It's dirty, even by un'nerground standads, but it'll serve ya well enough."
She then takes a short walk down her hallway, opening a door into a dusty, unlit room. There is a fur bed, an old wooden dresser, and a small chest made of bronze and stone. The name "Ixos" is deeply carved into the chest, and there're a few childhood keepsakes, like training swords and small sculptures, sitting on shelves and on the dresser.
"It were me son's room, 'fore the Garl took him. Bloody cussa' wanted ta be a ranger, yeah?" She humphs in frustration with her arms crossed. "Make yerself comfortable, and I'll fix ya some soup in the mornin."
With that, she leaves, leaving the boggart alone in the small, dirty room. Sleep comes quickly, due to the lichor in his system, and the events of the day.

It doesn't take any effort to find a place for Angharad to sleep. Every section in Thoros has bunks or barracks for the Devoted who train there, and all are welcome to outsiders. Finding a place that was open to her companion, however, narrowed down the list of suitable houses, and before long she found herself in the Oldbarrows, near the gardens. A few other animals were sleeping in beds of moss or dried grass, and some were inside the rooms with their masters. There is a room near the tuber patch that's open, and curators nearby assure her that she's welcome to stay there.
Finally, after settling down for the night, she and Coli are able to get some sleep.

[galenbd]

Unsettled from her dream, Angharad rises without her usual ritualization. She gets a stick of charred wood from the brazier and scribes the glyph she saw in her dream down onto the floorboard near her bedroll. She scribes it again several times, exploring the shape to make sure what she has drawn is true to her fading memory.

Then she settles down for her morning mediation and exercise. She starts with slow stretching, getting a feel for her body. Having participated in the battle yesterday, she forgoes her normal melee weapons practice. Instead she focuses on slow strong stance work, refreshing in her mind the efficiency needed to keep her defenses functional.

Taking out rags and her waterskin, she treats herself to bird bath washing off the days exertions. Once clean, she takes out her skin dye. She scribes pictures on her forearms reminiscent of her dream, ending by drawing the glyph on her hand.

She heads out the barracks and finds a quiet corner to pray, rededicating herself to the service of the land.

Once complete, she starts looking around for the caravan starting off.

[Starbin]

Therros

Therros slowly rose, struggling to open his eyes. Something ... something had happened. There was a ... and it burned ... his ... his hand!

Leaping to his feet, Therros stood panting as he gazed at his hand, the memory of the pain still fresh. Flipping it back and forth, he looked for anything out of the ordinary before he started to rub it vigorously. Then he paused, the hackles rising on the back of his neck, before he suddenly began to glance wildly around the room, one hand holding the dagger he had slept with as he looked for the someone ... something ... that must have attacked him in his sleep!

After a few moments, his breathing returned to normal as he convinced himself it was just a bad dream. Even if his hand felt like it had been bitten by a drakka spider, there were no marks on it, and he was alone ... probably just a case of too much hooch and soju last night. With an embarrassed snort, he checked his gear, straightened his clothes and went out to thank Saballa for her hospitality.

Then it was time to head out and get an invite to the caravan.

[AngryCyc]

Audriel gets up and goes about getting ready for her day as normal, packing away everything she'd need to get back on the road again...

Everything neatly made ready, she seeks out the caravan to begin waiting for them to make way.

[Soliloquy]

"Now keep your eyes on my hands ladies and gentlemen, because you will find this next part quite difficult to explain! No need to crowd out the quills for this magician, no sir, because I could do this in an antimagic field!" The ladies and gentlemen were just children, but there was no point in being impolite to his audience, and even though the quills children probably couldn't tell a fireball from a piece of flash paper, 'Note to self: Procure flash paper. Maybe my own deck of cards too.' Although it proved that he hadn't fixed the deck, there was something undignified about having to borrow his cards from children. He was fairly certain that he had been performing for them long enough that they had begun to ignore his practiced banter. That was probably a good sign that it was time to move on on its own. He tried not to think about how he was performing for children, trying to believe that he might as well train with them before he tried his hands at fooling adults. He liked the children better, if he was being honest with himself, and most of his tricks weren't that difficult. He was doing a new one, because he was leaving the next day, and it wasn't that difficult anyway. "I need a volunteer from the audience, any one of you, choose among yourselves if you will! You then? Marvelous! Pick a card, any one of these work fine, just fine." He fanned out nine cards. "Show it to your friends, I'm not looking, so don't try to show it to me there. Everyone has seen it? Marvelous! Now just put it back with the rest of these and..." He put the cards in a stack in his left hand and slapped them with his right. "Now then... is THIS your card?" He pulled off the top card and showed it to the crowd triumphantly. "No!" came the chorus from the children (I put in dialogue for them because it's basically a cutscene, and their lines aren't important or anything). His face slackened. "Wha-what?" he spluttered. "Are you sure? You haven't forgotten what the card was have you? I should have looked at it after all!" he said despairingly. "That's what I get for trusting in the memories of children like yourselves! How about this?" he pleaded, "I know that this is your card, and as good little children, you believe what adults say, don't you?" In truth, he was barely qualified to be called an adult, but to children, he thought he would look the part. "No!" the kids yelled again. "Oh what did I do to deserve such an ungrateful audience, it must have been that time that the farm girl and I- wait a moment!" He put the card he had shown them down next to him. "I did it wrong!" The children, only half-seriously, jeered and protested. He took the second card and put it at the bottom of his deck, now with only eight cards in it. He pulled the top card, originally the third off and showed it to the children. "This is your card!" The children only laughed at him. "What? Don't tell me this isn't your card either! You brat's are trying to fool me aren't you! You think you can get the better of me at a game like this? I've one fortunes with my card skills before!" He deflated and added "And lost even larger ones. I'll try it again." He put the second card on top of the first, and put the next card at the bottom of the deck again. "This is the card!" Soon a third and fourth card joined the first two as the pattern continued almost word for word. "Now this is just too much! I can accept that I am not perfect at this, but you kids can't fool me so easily! Whatever your card was, it must have been one of these, if not all of them! But I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I had to use someone else's deck for this, so the cards must be shy. Oh you laugh, but cards will sometimes hide when they're embarrassed. This time when you look at them, make sure not to be fooled by their trickery! Now let's go through them again. Is this your card? No? No matter, there are three more, and that was the last one." He put the card where the stack of four was at first. "Is this your card? No? Then it must be one of these!" He put the second card on the first and showed the other two. "No!" the children yelled. "What, don't tell me you still haven't found it?! Well that tears it!" As he said so, he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his arms. "Kid! Hold these cards between your index finger and middle finger. No, like this. A little tighter. That's it. Now then, one of you kids are going to have to beat it out of these cards. They've been hiding their friend, but they'll cave under pressure. Just slap the cards once, and they'll turn it over." The second child raised his hand up and slapped the cards out of the first one's hand. "Is that your card?" he said, pointing to the only card still clutched between the first one's fingers. The children turned it over, only to find that it was indeed the card. "Children, I will give you a piece of advice before I go. Never trust a man who wears skulls, a duck, or a magician who says he failed. Because a magician never fails. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get up early tomorrow," he said with a wink, "I need to befriend some of the other mercenaries, so that they'll protect me once they realize I can't actually fight to save my life." He turned in early, and the next morning, although not as early as he had planned, set out to the caravan, hoping to make some powerful connections.

[MooseBite]

A cold nose brings Dagur to a rude awakening. A cold nose that's admonished with gentle swats from his wide hands.

"Geroff, Nita."

A terrible dream and a terrible way to greet the waking day- yet not the worst. He considers himself lucky to have any company at all after his exile. The little thing also makes for a good, make-shift alarm clock; he's never gotten used to sleeping under stone, and probably never will. A young bear, energetic and eager, darts to and away from Dagur while nudging him repeatedly.

"I geddit, I geddit."

The orc rises and meticulously gathers his things, collating all of his belongings into neat compartments of his backpack. High time he sees what all this 'caravan' talk is about.

[gr8artist]

The day of departure has arrived, and citizens of Thoros are gathering together in preparation or to say their farewells. All in all, an expeditionary force of nearly 60 soldiers and experts are planning to leave. The masters of each devotion are busy comparing the names in their books to the names of those who step up to disembark.

Saballa greets Therros merrily when he enters the dining room. She seems to be in a good mood, and amused about something. She's made potato flapjacks with lichen glaze, something of a childish dish, sweet and more flavorful than most Thoran gruel.
"Greetin's, Charack. Ruje 'n El o' Goldcastle done gone ta' gather they things fer' tha trip. They done ask if'n you's awake, an' I tole 'em that you sleepin' off tha lichor... I know that won' buy ya no votes o' confidence - not bein' able ta' hold yer lichor - but it's betta' than them knowin' ya' have nightmares all night long. I tell ya, Charack, I ain't heard hollerin' like that since me boy been gone." She pours a flagon of lichor broth for him - all the flavor and none of the fun - and takes a seat as she slides the flapjacks over to him. "I ain't gonna' ask ya' ta talk about it. I figure someone from your neck o' the woods prolly' got reasons to be scared o' his dreams. I know the East can be... dangerous... to us little folk, and Dymis sure ain't no different." Before Therros can respond, she attempt to dismiss his questions, "I'm from Horvos, 'nitially. Came here on a caravan when I was a wee lass, me folks runnin' from all the evil pourin' in from tha' sea. They even give me this tat', some kind o' ward from evil, they say. Anyway, I rec'nized yer accent and yer dress tha' moment I laid eyes on you. Not e'ry day ya see a bloke with clothes and manners specif'cally chosen to NOT stand out, ya' know what I mean?"
She took a long pull from the flagon, and eyed Therros curiously for a moment.
"Anyway, I reckon ya'd better get gone 'fore El 'n Ruje think you done changed yer mind. If there's evah' anythin' ya need, ya know where ta' find me."

Knife the magician arrives in the Maw earlier than most others, and has plenty of time to look around. A Thoran bearing the Quills sigil approaches him in a friendly but suspicious manner, as one might when not sure whether or not they're recognizing an old friend. He attempts questions in a few languages, before finding success with Olcar. "You wouldn't happen to be the magician who kept my son up all night with jokes and bad card tricks, would you?" The man laughs, and as he does so, Knife can't help but notice two rows of pointed teeth that remind him of predatory fish that lived in the sea near his childhood home. Despite being friendly, the man's demeanor can't help but seem at least slightly disturbing or intimidating, a common genetic trait of even the most jovial Tieflings.
"I tell you what, my son was goin' on an' on about cards hidin' other cards, and beatin' them up, and what-all else I don't know. I think it annoyed him, more than anything, that he couldna' figure it out. He's pretty clever, ya' know, and likes to understand what's goin' on 'round him... Takes after his mom, he sure does." The tiefling laughs again, his wide jaw and serrated fangs reminiscent of a bleached-bone bear trap.
"Name's Phen, short for Phenirus Knoll, because my parents had a sick sense of humor. I'm the head translator on this expedition... You?" He speaks the eastern tongue fluently, but with a thick Kerran accent that sounds decidedly Loggan.

Audriel, with her experiments and supplies in hand, arrives in the Maw ready to set out on the expedition. She will need a day of exposure to the miasma, followed by a day of study, before she will have any idea what protections she might be able to infer by looking at the samples. Several members of the Devotion of Bones have decided to see her off, including a great number of students and sample-givers. No one seems particularly attached to her, or offers anything other than the most generic of platitudes. Keighan, however, steps up and offers a sincere statement. "Lady Audriel, I really hope that ya' figure out somethin'. Lad knows y'all will need all the help and protection you can get."
With that, Audriel is free to join the others in preparation for the journey. They offer her a cart to haul her experiments, and give her a note that she might trade for a wagon from the quartermaster, allowing her to continue her work while the journey is underway. She'll have to share the wagon space with some of the medicines that the Devotion is sending for Seryn aid, but they allow that there should still be plenty of room for her.

Dagur and Nita arrive early in the preparations, and several of the Thoran soldiers give Dagur a wide berth. Nothing new there... the outcast hadn't been a member of the city long enough to qualify as a citizen, and was frequently regarded as a prisoner or Garl sympathizer. Only the other members in his Devotion, Soil, bothered to get to know him or become acquainted with the brown bear youngling that accompanied him everywhere. Two ofther members of the Devotion of Soil were present, and the three of them were in charge of managing and preparing rations and food supplies for the others. Fortunately, the rangers in the Devotion of Steel had some basic knowledge of foraging and were capable hunters, so there shouldn't be too much trouble gaining rations along the journey. Not that they'd need them, of course, but every ration found was one more ration that'd make it safely to the front lines, where food might be scarce.
Brellena, an excitable young gnome, sat perched atop a wagon wheel so as to gain a better view, and was the first to call out Dagur's name.
"Daggah! Oba' hea! I savah' you a see-eat!" Despite being older than most members of the expedition, Brellena refused to act her age and insisted that she 'had a child's soul'... Most thought the eccentric gnome with her twisted, gummy hair was mentally unstable, but extensive reviews had proved that she was something of a savant when it came to making food grow, and that she wasn't actually handicapped in any way. There were a few that hypothesized that the miasma might make her worse, and a few that thought it might make her better, but most simply kept their distance and treated her with suspicion. It might explain her fondness for Dagur, another outcast in her own Devotion, though the gnome's sing-song voice grated on both Dagur's and Nita's nerves.

Angharad, freshly cleaned and painted, arrives later than most, after her morning preparations. Coli strolls merrily by her side, and several Thorans comment on her, her wolf, and her appearance. Nothing of note happens until a young woman steps up. She's tall for a dwarf, and more slender than others of her kind, likely as the result of a mixed blood parent or somesuch.
"M'lady Ang'rad, I thank ye fer yer service in tha' tunnels. Me husban', Essic, gonna' be alright, an' he say it's all thanks ta you and a few o' the others that he made it out alive. I wan' ya ta have this. 'Tain't much but a lucky charm me da' give me when I got devoted. It don' seem ta do me no good, but I'd like ya' ta have it, so's to rem'ber us by, yeah? Essic 'n Brucha, 'ere in Thoros." The dwarven woman hands over a small bronze bracelet adorned with dwarven runes and a strange crest.
As the dwarven woman is talking, Angharad can see several of her companions from before, milling around and gathering up supplies.

[galenbd]

More dwarves!

Angharad turns to the dwarven woman looking at her as she accepts the gift. "I'm so glad to meet you...Brucha. I'm sorry I didn't get to stay in the infirmary long enough to see everyone that was injured. I'm glad to hear he is doing well. "

She turns the dwarven bracelet over in her hands and asks, "Can you tell what each of these runes mean?"

[Starbin]

Therros

As puttered around the room, feeding Therros merrily, the grumpy boggart frowned, imagining a number of unpleasant things about his host. He nodded sullenly as she spoke, pausing when she mentioned hearing his restless evening. Afterwards, he ate a bit more slower, taking a few calming breathes before he stabbed her out of embarrassment and distrust. Once he was done, he put away his dishes, and nodded to the small woman. Bowing his head, he forced a smile. "Thanks fer the bed and grub ... I owes ya one. Guess I'd best slag over to the others and get in the 'van. Which way's fastest from here?"

He didn't say much more to the woman, wanting to get on his way as quickly as possible. Outside, he checked his pockets and such to make sure she didn't fleece him, then made for the meeting spot with his two cohorts. He'd deal with the jokes later ... right now he needed to clear his head. What was the deal with his dream? And why did it have him on edge? Sure, he naturally disliked cheery people, but Saballa had taken him in when he was lost, drunk and alone ... he shoulda been shaggin' her, not thinkin' up ways to hurt her ...

This place was definitely strange.

[Soliloquy]

"I know how you feel. My name's Knife. I'm glad to hear we have a translator. I'm pretty sure at least half of the kids couldn't understand a word I was saying." He checks to see who else is there, and takes stock of all newcomers. He is looking for people who look strong, in combat or magic.

[AngryCyc]

Audriel quietly loads her belongings, taking extra care to protect her experiment and secure it properly in the wagon. She does not pay much attention to those around her, not even noticing if anyone 'new' to her is around.

[MooseBite]

The gnome's eccentric sing-song tone claws over his ear drums, like a wild cat raking bark. He forces a half sincere, tusky smile; he picks up Nita, the bear cub wriggling, and takes a seat. She's friendly enough and allies are something he has in short supply. While he's not charismatic to be sure, Dagur still has some sense of wisdom about him. The lone wolf doesn't last long in the wild.

"Yer parents say y'could come on this trip?" he growls in jest,"Don't tell me I'ma have t'hold yer hand the whole time to keep y'outta' trouble."

He snorts, laughing at his own joke. His partner, the chubby little cub, doesn't find it nearly as amusing and nips his fingers for how terrible it is.

[gr8artist]

Brucha looks down, shamefully, and rubs the back of her head. "I'm afraid not, Angharad. It took me damn long tae learn tha' local languages themselves, and I never had much need to dredge up old scrip' like that." She then points out the larger dwarven crest in the middle. "This 'ere's me clan sigil, Thovalson, but I dinnae know 'bout the other scratches. Me da' give it to me as an heirloom, but I reckon' me husban' Essec 'n me ain't gonna' have nah children, what wit' him bein' an elf 'n all. Maybe ya meet a dwarf what kin' tell ya' bout it, eh?"
With that, Brucha leaves Angharad to her preparations. The Thorans are forming into groups based on their Devotion, while a collection of outsiders and collected foreigners are gathering together as another group. Coli seems to be eyeing a young bear cub in a Soil wagon fiercely, as if apprehensive about its presence.

Therros spots Ruje and Elwerin standing among others in their official Devotions. Most members of the organization to which Therros was now privy stuck to standard Devotions so as to not draw attention to themselves. Ruje and Bruhma were grunt-level members of the Devotion of Steel, while Elwerin was a well-liked but often misunderstood of the Bones. Saballa was one of the Iron, and there'd been a young brigand in good standing among the Soil. Therros, as an outsider and uninitiated into anything official, would be expected among the other foreigners. Once the caravan was underway, however, each person would be able to find their own travelling companions.

"Aye, Knife, we'll need as many speakers as we can get, if there's to be any hope of negotiating with the Blackmire Soldiers. I'm fluent in the common dialects, as well as Swampspeak and a bit of Old Tongue." Phen looks around the area for a short moment. "I reckon' I'm makin' everybody nervous, talking to you in Olcar like this. We need to get you familiar with one of the local languages, or you'll be damn useless in an actual battle. I can give you Karsi or Ansin lessons as we travel; it shouldn't be too difficult for ya. Right now, though, I need to coordinate with the other Quills and figure out what all they're each responsible for. If you'll excuse me?" Phen then steps away and joins a few of his compatriots, leaving Knife to find another group to join. There's a small congregation of non-Thorans; perhaps one of them will speak Olcar or Kerran.

Audriel soon finds herself surrounded by foreigners and others yet undevoted. One of the latter is assigned to drive the wagon, and he seems a little nervous about the task, obviously unfamiliar with the concept or execution of wagon operation. The bulky mule he is to rein seems stubborn and problematic, and the journey will likely be very frustrating for everyone involved. A few of the strangers nearby examine Audriel and her supplies and experiments curiously, but only a few ask her intent.

"Da-gah, you funny! I love-ah tha' way you smi-el. All them purty teeth all mean 'n bitedey. Ha ha!" Brellena laughed and turned to mock some soldiers nearby. They didn't seem to mind, but a few of their superiors shot unsettling glances at the higher ranking members of the Devotion of Soil. Dagur and Nita take their seats on the wagon, but Nita almost immediately puts her thick paws over the side and begins nipping playfully toward a collection of foreigners getting ready for the journey. A wolf stands warily among the travellers, eyeing Nita with distrust. The wolf's fur seems to be painted or dyed in some pattern indistinguishable from this position. The wolf's master stands nearby, discussing some trinket with a local dwarf.

---

As the group gathers, the elven lass from the tunnels the day before turns up, a knapsack thrown over her shoulder and a knife on each hip. Lori greets several of the locals and older foreigners before falling into ranks with the hodge-podge group at the back of the caravan. She looks around, making eye contact with everyone individually, as if committing their face to memory. She keeps a wide berth from Coli and Nita, and doesn't linger long near the wagon in which Audriel is sitting. She pauses near Phen, as if listening to his conversation with Knife, but moves away without adding anything to the conversation. A few locals step up to speak to her, but she seems to be dismissing their comments or questions, and shows them something in her pocket that seems to impress them and grant her a position of respect. She smirks as she sees Therros, then shoots a wary glance at Ruje. Elwerin, ever vigilant, catches her meeting his gaze, and he smiles slightly. She inclines her head, as if acknowledging a friendship, and then begins chatting with a nearby ghul'mar child.

[AngryCyc]

Audriel kindly explains, though in the simplest ways possible, the nature of her experimentation to any who are curious. "So really I'm just looking to strengthen what's already there. Clearly some of us are able to resist better, and we can understand how and why, we can perhaps harness that protection and spread it to all!"

Seeing the others who had joined her in the fight earlier and who she still recalls from the caravan in, Audriel smiles and nods in welcome. She's glad to see others that she is already familiar with on the trip and inclines as much to any who come over to her. As for the wagon driver, she gives him a few pointers here and there about how to keep the animal calm, and reassures with a few votes of confidence (as well as some surreptitiously cast Guidance spells to help him maneuver the wagon.)

[Starbin]

Therros

Wandering up, Therros noted where Ruje and Elwerin were. Seeing their affiliation with the Devotion of Steel, he paused only briefly to make eye contact, then wandered onward to the gathering of 'foreigners.' Thinking about the Devotions, he wondered where he would fit best. The easy one would be Steel, but he was not as great a warrior as all that. Bones could be interesting, but would require study ... as would Soil. He had little desire for Winds or Quills ... although perhaps someday he would learn more about the magical arts. That left Iron as his best option, even if annoying Saballa were already in it.

Sighing, he pulled out a small knife (not his new one) and began to whittle on a piece of wood he had found. His fingers were deft, but he had no skill in it. However, he figured he would continue to practice until he could claim a place in the Devotion of Iron. He daydreamed about becoming a locksmith and almost laughed out loud. Instead, he continued to watch events around him, ever alert to what was going on.

When the elven lass arrived, her smirk reminded him that she knew of his 'inclinations' but as he saw the looks she gave to both Ruje and El, he knew she was no stranger to his own nameless Devotion. Smiling to himself, he made a note to ask El about it later. For now, he would simply wait for the caravan to depart.

[galenbd]

Angharad tucks the bracelet into her pouch and starts to look around at the caravan in preparation for the journey. She runs her finger through Coli's ruff to calm him down. That animal must be attached to someone for all these people to accept it's presence.

She looks around for someone who appears to be in charge of getting people's individual possessions loaded.