Iron Master's The Raiders of Galath's Roost [IC]

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Fall 1371

The peaceful land of Mistledale has been greatly troubled of late by raiding drow who strike on moonless nights and then retreat under cover of darkness. Chasing marauding drow over the fields and hedgerows of Mistledale has proved futile so far, but a new development has cropped up. Since arriving in Elven Crossing, after crossing through the great and ancient forest of Cormanthor along the Mistle Trail from Shadowdale, two nights ago, you heard a rumor that the drow are using the abandoned keep of Galath’s Roost, a ruin a few leagues east of Glen, at the very eastern limits of the dale, as a base for their raids.

Troops sent to investigate the site have found a few monsters but no signs of habitation. Nevertheless, raids on the northeastern end of the dale have been heavy, and accompany of militia recently sent to watch the keep through the night was completely wiped out, the soldiers gone without a trace. Pressing on, you continued to Ashabenford, taking rooms at The White Hart, an inn typical of those famous throughout The Dales, luxuriously kept and clean, filled with soft music, chatting, and the sound of patrons sharpening their blades, serving hearty food and good drink with many folks to share it with. The retired warrior turned proprietor, Holfast Harpenshield made it known that he, and some other dalesfolk, are not too sure the drow were to blame for the strange doings at Galath’s Roost.

“Until now, drow raids have been sporadic, and most have taken place not only on moonless nights, but always within half a night’s march o’ the forest.” Harpenshield placed a calloused finger alongside his nose, leaning forward in confidence, green eyes shining. “These new raids seem to occur more often, and on moonlit nights most of all. And mounted, too.” He had leaned back across the counter, with a look of sagacity. “Drow don’t ride.”

“Sparrowhawk Thramne” the innkeeper had advised, “If you truly have returned home, take your friends here and find out the true threat posed by the drow at Galath’s Roost. The Riders have their hands full, and the Council have no further intention of sacrificing so many men again by placing them at the Roost.” To Stor, Liksa, and the dwarf, he added “Mistrans know good folk by the deeds they do. You’ll find enough gratitude if you can help young Thramne.”

That was two nights ago, and you have since ridden east on borrowed horses along the Moonsea Ride, spending the last evening at Glen, a dwarven village nestled along a ravine. Now, a false dawn colors the sky, so early even the birds are yet asleep, and the four of you approach on foot the ruined square keep, perhaps three bow shots in the distance. Fifteen miles separate you from the dwarven village, and your borrowed mounts, who no doubt are more comfortable than you are. The nearly naked forest line ahead cannot conceal the still-dark crumbled remains of a stone castle, and a surrounding dry-moat, now largely taken over by shrubs and sun forest. At best estimate, dawn should arrive in about an hour. The chill autumn air reaches even through the warmest clothing, carrying the scent of dry leaves underfoot and clean earth.

Liksa gulped.They were at the beginning of an adventure. She could hardly wait. "I will definitely help Thramne," she had told the innkeeper, being glad to get away from the kitchen and washing dishes, as she had done to make her way. She patted her pony, which she had called Duxton. Her rump hurt from the travelling.

Sparrowhawk squinted at the ruins. He knew they had been heavily trapped during the Time of Troubles, when Zhentarim forces, including the god Bane, had attempted to subjugate The Dales. The traps were to prevent the old ruins from being used as a base. The old lair, named after the bandit lord Galath, had fallen to Sembian troops hundreds of years before.

"Ghosts". he muttered. He reached into a pocket, and started stringing his bow, its creaking audible in the predawn silence. Creeping quietly forward, he attempted to survey the area.

[OOC: What does he see? Any evidence of activity, guards, sentinels? What type of approach is there to the ruins?]

Stor towering over his companions smiles, "the beginning my new friends," he says in his Illuskan accent. He unslings the bow over his shoulder, pressing it to the ground he bends it and strings it with a smooth motion.

Kelwan stares at the ruined castle while mumbling a short prayer to Gorm, "Gorm protect us." He then unslings his heavy shield, and pulls his sling from his belt, placing a bullet in it, then advances slowly behind the others.

[OOC: As the group approaches, Kelwan will use his Stonecunning to examine the ruins for anything unusual.]

A wide meadow, dotted with individual trees, spreads before the party, giving way to forest again on the right and far left. The overgrown path they have followed for seven miles from the Moonsea Ride leads to the keep's front gate. Ahead, you see a vast pile of splintered and vine-covered rock surrounded by a bramble-choked dry moat. Broken curtain walls, now not much higher than a human can reach, line the inner side of the moat. Several gaps, each as wide as a doorway, are visible from where you stand. A causeway of dirt and rock leads right across the moat to an opening in the curtain wall where a gate might of stood once. The wrecks of stone towers, each only slightly taller than the remaining walls, flank the opening.
Beyond the ruin, to the south, you can see a low hill with several vultures circling overhead. From the distant vantage point the party possesses, no sign of activity can be seen.

[OOC:Neither Stor or Sparrowhawk can detect anything at this distance in the current light.]

"Vultures... looking for food?" says Liksa. She places a stone in her warsling.

Hunched over, bow in left hand, cloak making him resemble a wet boulder, Sparrowhawk nods his head. He indicates with his chin a path skirting the keep along the right which will bring the party along the cover of the forest edge, and around to the low hill. A signal with his right hand towards Liksa conveys his desire to see the former cook scout ahead, with the rest to follow. The Dalesman understands the halfling's ability to meld into the background from his time on the road with her.

Kelwan watches the vultures for a moment, and at Sparrowhawks signal, advances slowly behind the group.

[OOC: As the group approaches, Kelwan will use his Stonecunning to examine the ruins for anything unusual.]

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[OOC: I'm sorry that I forgot, Tenser, but Kelwan does not see anything unusual about the stoneworks at 600 years. When he gets closer, I'll keep this in mind.]