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It is a beautiful morning, with not a cloud in the sky and the sun shining clear on the waters of the River Foam. Even the fey-haunted Darkmoon Wood seems a little less gloomy on a day like this, with birds warbling in the trees and the forest floor bursting with the bright colours of summer flowers.
In the dirt streets of Falcon's Hollow, however, barely a soul stirs. Save for the lone watchmen patrolling the streets and a few sullen woodsmen trudging their way over to the Lumber Warehouse, the town is filled with a hollow, empty silence. There are no fresh smells of baking bread, no rowdy vendor noises from the usually bustling Low Market, no cheery shouts from the labourers down at the Cutyard.
Perched at the edge of civilized lands, the small town of Falcon’s Hollow has always had to rely on itself to solve its problems. Meanwhile, the uncaring lumber barons squeeze the common folk for every last copper, deaf to their pleas. Now the hacking coughs of the sick are heard throughout town. The plague has come to Falcon’s Hollow and the town’s leaders can’t be bothered to stop it.
It is morning, just after the seventh hour, and all is not well.
Zarik:
Spoiler
You step out of the shadows of Darkmoon Wood, a brace of pheasants slung over your shoulder and your trusty bow in your hand. You've always been an early riser and on this particular morning, your diligence has paid off. With the Low Market closed due to the spreading illness and the wares of the High Market unavailable to those who cannot cough up the coins for them, food has especially been hard to come by. The pheasants that you've caught will assure you (and your neighbours, should you choose to share your bounty with them) a square meal for the next day or so.
As you pass the town palisades and make your way back to the house you've come to think of as home, you notice a small knot of muttering discontents gathered at the posting pole. Curious as to what news could have drawn people out with all the sickness going around, you make your way over and after carefully elbowing your way to the front of the group, you discover the following sign tacked to the pole.
"In order to contain the illness known as BLACKSCOUR TAINT, Sheriff Baleson and the town constabulary will be banning all use of the spring called BROOKMAN'S WELL. Townsfolk are advised to draw their water from another source."
The sign is signed by both the Sheriff as well as Magistrate Vamros Harg. Brookman's well is the only water source within easy walking distance. Blackscour taint, as you know, is caused by people drinking water contaminated with the blackscour fungus. Only that you've never heard of the blackscour fungus growing around these parts.
Thorbald:
Spoiler
You awaken to the silence of an empty house. It has been ten years since your father disappeared, and while you've gotten used to living alone, his absence still gnaws at your belly - just a little. Rising from your bed, you prepare yourself a simple breakfast and get dressed before heading to your smithy. Business has been poor in the days since the coughing illness broke out, but that is no excuse to close shop and hide in your room.
You get the furnace fire started and bring down your bellows from the shelf. You are just wondering where your two fool apprentices have gotten to when the elder of the two, a dark-haired youth named Pevrin, wanders dazedly in, his face pale. Instinctively, before Pevrin has even spoken a word, you know what he is about to tell you - it is plain from the boy's stricken expression.
"Riff's come down with the sickness, Mister Thorbald. He's in a real bad way. His ma said to tell you he'd not be coming in today... she wouldn't even let me in to see him." Swallowing nervously, your apprentice looks at you, his eyes filled with fear. "It's spreading, isn't it, sir? Are we all gonna die? What if Riff had it but he didn't know it, and he passed it to you'n me?"
Saris:
Spoiler
You awaken in your room at Jak'a'Napes, the local inn - indeed, the only inn that Falcon's Hollow has to offer. Although the room is small and unadorned, the bed, at least, was free of bugs and the pillow was soft enough. Moving quietly so that you won't disturb the sleep of your companion from the caravan in the other bed, you wash your face at the basin provided before getting dressed. Morning ablutions done, you sit quietly at your bed and send up prayers to the Dawnflower, giving thanks for the day ahead and asking for strength to face whatever trials might come your way, including that of illness.
Once done, you slip downstairs into the inn's eating area, hoping for some breakfast. You don't recognise many of the faces in the half-filled room - the others from the caravan are presumably still sleeping off their weariness. Or perhaps they have slipped away in the night - certainly, a large number of the merchants were loath to quarter at a town plagued by some coughing disease. As you study the menu on the wall, a rotund red-faced human whom you recognise as the innkeeper, stomps into the room. He does not seem happy.
"Pah! Closing off Brookman's well- what was he thinking? Where the bloody hell are we all supposed to get our water from now? Suck it from the stinking river? Cayden's blessed codpiece. Plague or not, if we don't-" Catching sight of you, he immediately beams, his anger vanishing abruptly as the innkeeper in him takes over. "Why, hello. Do have a seat, sir. What can I get for you?"
Lavin:
Spoiler
You awaken in your room at Jak'a'Napes, the local inn - indeed, the only inn that Falcon's Hollow has to offer. Rolling out of bed, you yawn and stretch your stiff limbs. Although the innkeeper was happy enough to offer you a room of your own once he saw that you could pay, you suspect that this 'privilege' has more to do with the unwillingness of the other patrons to room with a gnoll rather than any considerations for your privacy. Still, the bed was warm, though the rest of the room was cramped and cold. You were glad for it when you arrived late last night, after the days of hard travelling through Darkmoon Vale.
Donning your armour, you ready yourself for the day ahead. Hopefully, the day ahead will include some delicious food. You can smell something cinnamon-flavoured cooking downstairs and your mouth is already watering.
As you amble into the eating area downstairs, some of the other patrons deliberately shift their chairs and turn away from you. Taking no notice of such rudeness, you wonder whom you could order some food from when you spot the innkeeper entering the room in a temper, shouting something about some well being closed off and something about a plague. Upon spotting one of the other patrons, he seems to calm down enough to offer his services. Perhaps you could order some food from him?
Feel free to refer to Saris' post in order to make your own.
Saris rubs his eyes as he looks at the inkeeper; ever since he was gifted his divine magic, by the Dawnflower, he'd wake up at the crack of dawn, like clockwork. Come to think of it Mashal did the same, when they traveled together. Of course, he was a morning person. Saris isn't.
"Uh, sure. Bread and Bacon, please." He takes a seat, and rubbed at his temples a bit. "Wait, what was that you said about a plague? I saw a couple people coughing, coming in last night, but I didn't think anything of it."
"I'll get your breakfast served up for you right away, sir." The innkeeper turns and shouts something unintelligible at someone in the kitchen before facing you once more. He invites you to have a seat at an empty table nearby, leaning forward with a conspiratorial air as you take your place.
"You haven't heard? No wonder you seemed all right with staying. Most travellers haven't been eager to quarter here, what with the illness going round. Not sure what it is, really. Some kinda coughing thing. We figured it was just the usual hay fever or something at first come on fierce, but when old man Gasker upped and passed away last week, Pharasma have mercy on his soul-" He makes the spiral sign of the Lady of Graves over his heart before continuing. "Folks have been running scared ever since. There's more and more people with chest pains who're coughing their poor guts out, but nothing seems quite to work..."
The innkeeper trails off, eyeing you carefully as it dawns upon him only now that perhaps he ought not to have told you all this, lest he scare off yet another paying customer.
__________________
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MINE:
Spoiler
RotRL: Burnt Offerings IC and OOC and Dice
Hollow's Last Hope IC and OOC and Dice
Adjusting his grip on the brace of pheasant he turns away from the sign with a sniff and starts back home. Guess it's a good sign they finally have somebody working on this. Just hope it's not too little too late.
Arriving at home he sets about the task of cleaning the pheasant. As he settles into the familiar and comfortable routine his mind quickly begins to wander while his hands work. So somebody finally got around to figuring out what's causing all this trouble. Not my business though, if they wanted my help they would have asked. But it's strange that blackscour fungus is suddenly popping up here. But hey, nobody asked me right? I should just be thinking about if I should sell this pheasant or store it for later. Wonder if anybody knows why it's suddenly popped up here of all places, and more importantly what they can do about it. Well, I haven't been asked about it, so I'll stay quiet for now.
Some time later, having finished about every little chore, distraction, and excuse to keep busy he can think of, Zarik finds himself again reaching for his gear to head into town. Well, I really do need to pick up some more Antitoxin, and maybe a few other things anyways. And if Laurel happens to be in the mood to answer some questions then that's her choice. But if not then no big loss. With his usual equipment in place he makes a bee line for Roots and Remedies.
__________________
"So I, sort of threw myself out of the passenger seat of a moving car. Don't look at me like that. I'm telling you it made sense at the time." -Harry Dresden Fool Moon
As Lavin waited for the innkeeper to finish with the elven patron he was now serving- no need to be rude, after all- he couldn't help but overhear more mention of some sort of plague. His desire for politeness overridden by his desire to help people, he walked over as quickly as he could without drawing any more attention than he would anyway and said, "I'm sorry to unterrupt, but I couldn't help hearing something about a plague? Do either of you know anything I could do to help? And is there some place the sick are kept? Is-"
Lavin would have pose further questions on the subject, but after a rather conspicuous and very audible reminder from his stomach why he had come downstairs, he also mumble sheepishly, "Um... Also is there any way I could get some breakfast?"
Upon arrival at Laurel's store, you behold a rugged-looking two-storey shop, swathed in creeping ivy and full window boxes. Above the front door is a faded sign that reads "ROOTS AND REMEDIES", while a hastily scrawled sign on the door itself reads "OPEN FOR BUSINESS - ADMITTANCE AT YOUR OWN RISK".
Even more striking than the sheer amount of greenery covering the place, however, is the line of twenty-something sombre townsfolk stemming from the front of the shop. Some are frazzled-looking adults with pale, wheezing children in tow. Others seem to be precipitously near tears. Here and there, a few are coughing surreptitiously into handkerchiefs, doing their best to disguise the blood-stained rags scrunched in their fists.
From the look of things, it's going to take you at least two hours (if not more) of waiting in line with all these sick people, before you can get as much as a toe inside Roots and Remedies.
Lavin:
Spoiler
The innkeeper looks up at your approach and when your stomach growls, he can't help but grin broadly, despite himself.
"I'll get you the same as this one then. I take it you like your meat?" Without waiting for you to respond, he shouts more instructions towards the kitchen, then nods at you, indicating that you should take a seat too.
"Yeah, this whole plague thing. Crazy, ain't it? News just this morning was that the Sheriff's gone and banned the whole town from taking water at Brookman's well. Apparently some smarty pants told him that there was blackscour fungus growing at the well and making everyone sick. Blackscour fungus? Pah! Load of codswallop, if you ask me. Blackscour fungus ain't supposed to be even growing in these parts."
The innkeeper steeples his hands and gives you a frank appraising look that although calculating, is not unkind. "No offence to you and your kind, master, but unless you've got some talent with healing diseases, I doubt there's much you can do. None of the priests here have the magic skill to remove this coughing sickness, not that the bloody lot of them have gotten off their bums to do piss-all since things got worse. Gavel Kreed's likely got 'em under his thumb, blast that rotting swine."
__________________
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MINE:
Spoiler
RotRL: Burnt Offerings IC and OOC and Dice
Hollow's Last Hope IC and OOC and Dice
Saris is a bit unnerved by the appearance of the Gnoll. The last time he'd seen a Gnoll was when he traveled to the Everlight Oasis, and the ones that he'd seen were more interested in wanton destruction than healing. "Perhaps I can help. I've got some healing talents, and I might be able to help heal them. And if not, maybe I could at least determine what is causing this plague; if I can tell that it's not the fungus, maybe I can talk the Sheriff into removing the ban that he's put on the well."
Spoiler
If this is before I've prayed for my daily allotment of spells, when I get the chance to pray for my spells, I'm going to prepare as my two first level spells "diagnose disease" and "Deathwatch", and replace "light" from my standard set of orisons with "detect poison"
Last edited by KobaldMinion#32 : 01-15-2013 at 06:55 PM.
The innkeeper gives a bitter laugh, but lowers his voice anyway such that only both of you can hear. "Kreed? Kreed's the head of the Lumber Consortium. Man practically rules the town, and s'more than my head's worth to tell you the round tale of what that son of a donkey's arse has done to all of us here. He's got something to do with it, all right - he's sitting on his fat lump up in his swanky manor, doing nothing!" Shaking his head, he sighs again, louder this time, and looks morosely at Saris.
"Unless you can cure disease, sir, you'll not be of much help. In fact, nobody is. The priests haven't been able to do a thing neither. And I've never seen no one able to talk Sheriff Baleson around when he's got his mind set on something. 'Specially when he's got wee mad Vamros on his side this time."
"Still, if it's him you're wanting to talk to, you'll find the Sheriff at the watch-station by the Hollow Tribunal. That's just northward up the road, short walk. Can't miss it."
At this point, a serving girl arrives with some barley bread and sizzling bacon on plates for both of you.
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MINE:
Spoiler
RotRL: Burnt Offerings IC and OOC and Dice
Hollow's Last Hope IC and OOC and Dice
Ravenously hungry, Lavin devoured his meal in a matter of moments. Afterwards, he felt ashamed of how improper his manners were when eating, though he supposed he had never been able to restrain himself much at all when it came to food. He quickly used a handkerchief which he had with him to wipe the remnants of his meal from his face, then turned his attention to the elf near whom he was seated.
"I take it that you're also interested in attempting to help deal with the plague that has come upon this town? I was planning on visiting several of the people the innkeeper mentioned, if you'd care to join me once you finish your meal." Lavin couldn't help but cringe slightly at his last few words when he thought of how quickly he had devoured his own meal.
Saris couldn't help but be puzzled by the gnoll's mannerisms. While his eating habits were true to the animalistic nature he had come to expect from the lumbering beastial creatures, but his personal grooming habits and manner of speech were not what he expected. Still, he wasn't the perfect picture of traditional elven grace himself: dark brown hair, cut short and messy, rough and grained skin, dark utilitarian clothing. Hell, if it weren't for his ears, he could easily be confused for human.
He took a bite of bread, following it with a bite of bacon. "Actually, I was just passing through. I had no knowledge of any plague here, up until now. But if there is anything I can do, I'd like to see it done. I suppose it's part of my new job description as it were." He offhandedly pointed to the clasp of his cloak. It'd be easy to overlook, if you weren't to pay too much attention to it, but carved into the face of it, was the image of the Dawnflower. He finished up his plate of breakfast rather quickly, though not as quick as the gnoll. "Perhaps it would be best to talk to the Sheriff first. From what the innkeeper said, he seems stubborn, but it sounds like he's at least got some sort of handle on what's going around; more than that Kreed fellow anyway."
Thorbald broke down in a coughing, hacking fit. His body shuddering with every violent convulsion he made before spitting some vile, black icor into the fire in the furnace.
"Whaddaya mean 'what if,'" he grouses, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and hoping he didn't manage to get any in his beard, "I gots it too, but you don't see me laying a'bed and moaning about it, do you? What good will that do? And a'sides, what exactly did you expect us to do about it, eh? Neither one of us is a healer, and if that woman... what's her name? Don't matter. If she had anything useful, then half the town wouldn't be sick now, would it. Ain't nothin' to do but what for this 'throat tickle' of ours to blow over."
Saris nods to the gnoll, then stands up, and heads to the stairs. About halfway up, he turns back around. "This might be a while; I have to uh, talk to the guy in charge of the caravan, in case this takes longer than the caravan will be staying. Just getting everything settled in case. If you've got anything you need to take care of..." he trailed off, and turned back up the stairs.
In truth, he didn't need to talk to the leader of the caravan; his travel with the caravan had simply been a matter of convenience, and there had been nothing official about it. But he was still a bit embarrassed about saying that what he actually had to do was pray to Sarenrae. Part of it was that he never really followed any deities in the past; back then, he felt that the only people who followed a deity were those who couldn't fend for themselves. But also, people have certain images and expectations in their heads when they think of priests and clerics. Saris didn't meet those, so it seemed safer just not to draw attention to the fact. Once he got to his room, he turned to his window, to face the sun, and knelt down, to quietly pray.
Spoiler
I know many DMs don't bother with bluff checks between PCs, but just in case: (1d20+2)[19]
Zarik sighs as he leans against a building across the street watching the line.
I should have realized this would happen. Now that they have a name for the probably they probably assume Laurel can cure them. She'll definitely take the coin they offer but I wonder if she actually has a cure. That would be a nice change.
Sighing he finds himself a nice shady spot to sit and observe the line of people keeping his ears open for any news of a possible cure.
Spoiler
Mostly just waiting until the others show up but let's see if Zarik can pick up on any interesting gossip.
Listen check: (1d20+9)[13]
__________________
"So I, sort of threw myself out of the passenger seat of a moving car. Don't look at me like that. I'm telling you it made sense at the time." -Harry Dresden Fool Moon
As the elf left, Lavin stood up himself and went to retrieve his few belongings from his room. That done, he paid the innkeeper what he owed, thanked him for his hospitality, and began praying to Sarenrae as he waited for his new companion to prepare himself.
Spoiler
Not going to roll Sense Motive; Lavin doesn't have any reason not to trust Saris.
The townsfolk in the queue are a sombre, hacking bunch, many of them far too wrapped up in their personal misery and fear of the disease to talk. You do however pick up some snatches of gossip about how Thuldrin Kreed is hiding in his mansion like a coward and about how none of the priests seem able to do anything.
There are also some kind words from one of the mothers in the line about how Lady Cirthana, the local cleric of Iomedae, kindly stayed up all night with her sick daughter. There are those in line, however, who spit on the ground at the mention of the cleric. It seems that Lady Cirthana, for all her efforts, does not possess the ability to cure the disease, and the townsfolk grow increasingly weary of prayers that don't seem to work.
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MINE:
Spoiler
RotRL: Burnt Offerings IC and OOC and Dice
Hollow's Last Hope IC and OOC and Dice
Following his prayer, he heads downstairs, with a nod to the rather odd gnoll. "Alright, with that settled, we can head off." He turned to the inn keeper "Just add my meal to the bill of the room; I have a feeling I'll be staying a little longer than I originally planned." With that, he headed out the door, and up the street, too where the innkeeper said the Sheriff would be.
The Hollow Tribunal is, as the innkeeper said, a few short-minutes walk away. As you both travel through the dirt-packed streets of Falcon's Hollow, however, you are both struck at just how quiet and dispirited the place is.
The Low Market lies abandoned, with hay bales and the odd wooden crate scattered on the ground - clearly, nobody has been here in days. Fear of the disease seems to have scared the stallholders away. The Goose'n'Gander, the general store, remains open, but seems devoid of customers. What few townsfolk you do see give you both a wide berth. The mysterious coughing disease, whatever it is being caused by, seems to have sapped the life out of Falcon's Hollow.
As luck would have it, you both discover the Sheriff standing outside the watch-station conversing with a pretty young woman in armour. Those familiar with religions recognise the symbol of Iomedae gleaming around her neck on a silver chain. Sheriff Baleson is a towering, muscular half-elf who seems as though he might burst out of his chain-mail shirt at any moment. As he spots the two of you approaching, he trails off mid-conversation but holds his ground, his hands resting calmly on the knob of a massive lumber axe.
"Yes? What can I do for the two of you?" His voice is gruff but not unkind.
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MINE:
Spoiler
RotRL: Burnt Offerings IC and OOC and Dice
Hollow's Last Hope IC and OOC and Dice
Saris is kind of shaken with how empty the town feels; he'd come in the night before, and naturally, you wouldn't expect a small logging town to have much of a night life, but this was just eerie. "I just heard about the plague, a little bit ago; I came in with the caravan. I'm not sure if there's anything I am able to do, but I've got some healing talents, so if there is anything I can do, I'd like to try. At the very least, I could try to determine if it's being caused by blackscour fungus, or not.
After spending a while listening to the line of people grumble Zarik sighs and stands heading for the line. No point in waiting around here. I still need those Antitoxin's and if I can get some answers while I'm at it then all the better. Just hope she doesn't try to get me to pay for it.
__________________
"So I, sort of threw myself out of the passenger seat of a moving car. Don't look at me like that. I'm telling you it made sense at the time." -Harry Dresden Fool Moon
Feeling that Saris covered all of the main points of the pair's intents, and chose to wait quietly for the moment, attempting to look as inconspicuous as a Gnoll of his girth could.
The Sheriff squints at Saris down the length of his nose. "You're a priest, aren't you? Do you have the magic to heal diseases? Because if you can't, then frankly speaking, there's precious little you can do to help us with the sick. No offence to your god or goddess."
At this, the young woman next to him looks distinctly uncomfortable, darting a quick glance at the Sheriff, but saying nothing.
Sheriff Baleson shifts his weight and regards Lavin carefully before giving a faint nod of approval. He then turns to address the both of you, and you get the distinct sense that he is weighing his words very carefully before speaking. "I'll be honest with you gentlemen. I'm not one to let outsiders meddle in town business, but it's a desperate situation and I'm willing to accept any help I can get."
"I can tell you this though. We're not looking for people to tell us what's causing the illness - I have it on good authority from our local herbalist that it is blackscour fungus that's causing all the trouble. Right now, we're just looking for ways to help the sick before they die. Find a cure, if you will, since none of our local clerics seem able to do a thing about healing those afflicted. Do either of you have knowledge of how to cure blackscour taint?"
Although the Sheriff's tone remains calm and even, the young woman next to him looks down at her feet, the colour rising in her cheeks.
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MINE:
Spoiler
RotRL: Burnt Offerings IC and OOC and Dice
Hollow's Last Hope IC and OOC and Dice
As you approach the line and take your place at the tail end of it, the young flaxen-haired man waiting in front of you turns around and grins a wan welcome. You recognise him as Bartley, the young man who works as a shop assistant at the Goose'n'Gander general store.
"Hullo Mister Olmwith. Here for some medicine too?" He rubs the back of his neck apologetically. "Me mam's taken sick. Mister Hildrinsocks let me have the next couple of days off so I can look after her."
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MINE:
Spoiler
RotRL: Burnt Offerings IC and OOC and Dice
Hollow's Last Hope IC and OOC and Dice
You surmise that the woman, judging from her dressing, is probably a cleric of some sort - hence, feeling the sting when he speaks of the clerics being helpless to combat the illness. She seems deeply embarrassed too, possibly because she has no knowledge of how to cure blackscour taint.
__________________
Avatar by the awesome Strawberries.
MINE:
Spoiler
RotRL: Burnt Offerings IC and OOC and Dice
Hollow's Last Hope IC and OOC and Dice
It takes Zarik a moment to realize what Bartley is asking him but he finally shakes his head before speaking in his customary low voice. A habit from to much time spent in the forest.
"No, mostly, I just need to pick up some Antitoxin before I make another trip into the forest. Though I did see the notice about the well so I was hoping I might get some information from Laurel while I'm here."
Looking Bartley over he can't help but wonder if Mister Hildrinsocks actually gave him the time off to make sure the lad didn't pass it on to him. Sighing he shakes his again.
"These are some bad times Bartley but have faith somebody will find a solution for it eventually. The only question is how long it will take."
__________________
"So I, sort of threw myself out of the passenger seat of a moving car. Don't look at me like that. I'm telling you it made sense at the time." -Harry Dresden Fool Moon
Bartley nods eagerly at your words and waves his hand about in excitement - an act that earns him stern looks of disapproval from some of the others in line. You recall that Bartley has a reputation for being less than bright among some of the nastier townsfolk.
"Exactly, Mister Olmwith. But how long will that take?" He glances thoughtfully up at the faded sign that bears the shop's name over the door. "Y'know, Mister Olmwith, it was on the advice of Miss Laurel that the Sheriff decided to close Brookman's well in the first place. But if the Sheriff's closed off Brookman's well to prevent the sickness from spreading... that means you're only gonna fall sick if you've been drinking from Brookman's. You haven't been taking water from there, have you?" The young man gives you a suspicious look - a look that is oddly repeated in the faces of everyone close enough to shamelessly eavesdrop.
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MINE:
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RotRL: Burnt Offerings IC and OOC and Dice
Hollow's Last Hope IC and OOC and Dice
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(PF) Hollow's Last Hope IC thread - party 2
