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Company of Chaos - All Around Golarion
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<blockquote data-quote="Lwaxy" data-source="post: 5840897" data-attributes="member: 53286"><p>Through the icy clear afternoon, the small trek proceeded towards the shimmering gateway the two gatemages had opened. Mook, still wary of the whole idea, looked again to her wizard friend for reassurance. He smiled at her and petted his hawk familiar, but in truth he felt as worried. </p><p></p><p>The traders they were traveling with were on their way to a place called Arthfell Forest. None of them had heard of it before, except Kronk, who claimed it was a bit of a spooky place, from what he had been told. There was no way to pass the mountains without major issues this time of year, so the traders had employed 2 gatemages who, with an enormous amount of energy, were able to open a gate from the plains outside the town they had found them in to anywhere else they had been before. Somewhat like a teleport, but different, Mook had been told. She cared less about this detail than about another. They all had to keep physical contact to one another and, through the first person in line, to one of the gatemages. As none of them could determine where they would come out, this was vital. Keeping in touch meant they would come out on a large clearing on a well traveled road. Losing contact would mean they could appear anywhere several miles away from where everyone else was. This sort of traveling was not yet well researched and supposedly people had gone lost several times before. </p><p></p><p>One of the gatemages led the tied together wagons with several families in them. The other led the pack animals, caravan guards and guests like themselves. They were grabbing their front walker's belts, hands or backpacks, if they were not right out tied together like Zaza and Edawon and Mook and Zayel were. Most held their riding or pack animals. It was too bad not everyone fit into the wagons, Mook thought. But the wagons were filled with wares and trader families. So Mook was tied to her friend while her wolf and a donkey were tied to her. Zayel had his hawk on his shoulder, bound with a strap of leather so the familiar would not fly away in a panic. As there had not been enough ropes, Zayel held on to the belt of Majek, who led two horses and was tied to Krell. Krell in turn held on to Edawon's backpack. Kronk was riding on one of the horses Majek led, as the kobold had caught an annoying cold and was weak with fever. Strange, it was, that priests and healers could come up with all sorts of cures, but even the gods seem to be unable to find a cure for the common cold. </p><p></p><p>On the other side of the gate, it was less cold but a lot wetter, which would probably not help Kronk at all, Mook thought. But they would have a much faster time traveling to Falcon's Hollow from that forest, so she had been told. And most likely they would find an inn to stop at and wait for the monk to feel better. </p><p></p><p>The line with the wagon was through, and their own line was now beginning to move. Mook tried to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach and tried to remember all the ingredients for a sweat tea to help the kobold. She hoped her remedies would even work with lizards. </p><p></p><p>Zayel kept suppressing a cough. The close proximity to his familiar was a problem but he could let the hawk fly again as soon as they would be through. Only a few people and animals before them. Majek stepped through, without hesitation as it seemed, and the wizard and the oracle followed suit. Just when they were over the edge, in some sort of shimmering corridor only seeming to be a few feet wide, the boy sneezed. The hawk's feathers were flying, and automatically putting his hands to his nose he lost the grip on the half-orc's belt. When they were through the gate, they found themselves standing in a small, barely snow covered trail leading up over a small hill in a dense forested area. The three-quarter-elf sneezed again. </p><p></p><p>"Oh no!" Mook exclaimed, her voice full of panic. "Now we got lost!"</p><p></p><p>Zayel had a bit of trouble freeing his hawk, who immediately flew up over the trees to check out the area. "Eh," he said, sounding hard pressed for air. "Maybbe dey a jus over de hill?" He sneezed again. There was no trace of the portal anymore. </p><p></p><p>They had no such luck, of course. But they were not totally unlucky either, as a well build, bright colored inn with a large red sign proclaiming it THE TRAVELERS STOP INN and, judging from the horses looking out of a stable or tied to a hitching post and all the farm wagons in the front, quite some patronage, greeted them on the other side. Above the inn's sign, stretching across the front of the building was a banner with artistic lettering stating “The Traveling Exhibition of Doctor Phineus Krane, Professor of Antiquities and Master of Shroud Artistry.” A number of colorful tents have been set up at the rear of the inn yard, apparently for this exhibition. As evening was nearing, several workers could be seen securing the tents and wares for the night. Some late visitors were on their way home or into the inn. </p><p></p><p>"At least we will not have to sleep out in the open," Zayel, now not sounding as clogged anymore, sighed. "Look, I'm very sorry, I should have founbd a rope to tie myself to the others..."</p><p></p><p>"It's fine, we seem to be not so lost after all. We may be able to find the others, and asides, if needed, we have enough coin to make it to Falcon's Hollow on our own." Mook strode purposefully towards the inn, and Zayel shrugged and followed. </p><p></p><p>Business was brisk as the long shadows of evening slanted through the taproom’s open windows. A bald, red-faced man wearing an apron worked behind the bar and several young girls carried platters of food and drinks to various tables. Most of the crowd seemed to be local farmers and traveling merchants, although clustered around one table sat a rough-looking group of mercenaries, one of whom was a short, black-cloaked figure who might be a goblin. They huddled over their drinks in quiet </p><p>conversation, occasionally raising a head to eye the crowd. At a table nearby, a bespectacled scholarly looking fellow discussed a piece of decorated linen spread across the tabletop with a small group of onlookers. The owner of the exhibition, they guessed. </p><p></p><p>The two of them ducked through the people to claim a small table close to the mercenaries and the group discussing the shroud. It was pleasantly warm in here, and so they dropped their cloaks and ordered some hot, spiced ale from a serving maid.</p><p></p><p>They were just about to order their second round when the one they thought to be a goblin jumped off his chair to go outside and bumped into their table. Zayel's ale spilled over and hit the creature. It protested in a squeaky voice, and his friends got up all at once, except a fat guy who looked like a bored wizard. "Hey, you spilled your drink on our friend," the tallest of them stated the obvious. "Don't think because he's a goblin you can treat him like that." </p><p></p><p>Zayel looked confused, but Mook knew troublemakers when she saw them. She was about to reply, maybe use a spell, when two of the other customers stepped into the way of the mercenaries. "Goblins are generally vermin, and this was an accident," one of them, a broad shouldered farmer, said. "Leave if you don't like it." </p><p></p><p>A moment later, all hell broke lose. Zayel ducked under the table while Mook stepped back to the wall. Zayel had read about bar fights happening at random but until now he had always thought this to be an exaggeration. Mook had planned to keep her back safe, but bumped into the exhibition owner, who in turn knocked over a candle, and a moment later something started burning on the table. With an enraged shriek, water was splashed over it, but Mook paid little attention. She was focused on what she now realized was an ugly slim elf woman nearing her with a stein as weapon. Of course, the staff Mook had been using lately was popped up against their table, and not counting her dagger, she had little to work with. Her wolf, of course, was waiting outside as she had no intention of worrying the farmers. In her need to defend herself, she grabbed the nearest chair and barely blocked the stein from crushing down on her shoulder. </p><p></p><p>A loud, commanding voice could be heard over the pandemonium, demanding for everyone to drop their weapons and stop damaging the inn. Hesitantly, the locals and finally the mercenaries obeyed and returned, grumbling, to the not yet broken parts of their tables. A tall human was shoving the leader of the mercenaries into the corner, berating him about having been warned before and to leave town immediately lest they want to spend the night in jail. </p><p></p><p>As the mercenaries left, the goblin hissed and spat at Zayel who was still hiding under the table. Mook relaxed and put her chair back where she had taken it from. "Thank you for restoring order so quickly," she told the tall human. "I take it you are the law around here?"</p><p></p><p>The man, obviously having planned to be more unfriendly, nodded in slight confusion about the compliment. "That I am. Cage Blunndee, sheriff of the area."</p><p></p><p>"We were separated from our traveling companions," Mook went on, planning to use the momentum of the conversation. "A trade caravan that used some portal magic to get us here. Shifty spell, if you ask me, as we got lost, obviously. Would you happen to know of a large clearing with a major road going through it?"</p><p></p><p>"Craggart's Meet," the bartender, busy gathering up broken glasses, replied immediately. "It is quite some distance to the east, though. You would need a few days to get there on foot."</p><p></p><p>"Just great," Zayel grumbled as he got up and dusted himself off. "We have a wolf and a donkey but I guess that would not make us that much faster."</p><p></p><p>"My shroud," the exhibition owner could now be heard at his table. "It is damaged, glad I could rescue most of it. Those mercenaries should pay for it."</p><p></p><p>"I'm glad if we never see them again," the sheriff grumbled. </p><p></p><p>"What's it you are exhibiting?" Curiosity overcoming his annoyance the wizard went over to the table. </p><p></p><p>"Ah!" The man bowed and introduced himself, pleased at the interest. "I'm Professor Krane, Phineus Krane. I don't think you have heard of me?" He shook his head in an imitation of the supposed elf's gesture. "Of course not. The subject of my exhibits here at the Travelers Stop is a form of artistry called shrouding. By using certain reagents and magical properties, this art allows the image of a corpse or mummy to be captured orthographically... that is to say, with height, width, and depth... on the linen shroud in question. It was once a common technique among the burial practices of certain ancient cultures but has largely been lost today. The shroud in question that was almost destroyed carries the image of the Chelish King Haliad III. It is over four hundred years old and the centerpiece of my exhibition. Glad I warded it against most damage. Only brought it in here to show it to the young lass... oh she is gone now." The man's face showed slight disappointment as he ruffled his greying hair. </p><p></p><p>"Isn't this a bad place to hold an exhibition, especially this time of year?" Mook wondered while Zayel studied the shroud. "Or are you only passing through?"</p><p></p><p>"Oh, I'm here with a purpose." The scholar's eyes lit up. " Five years ago, a druid named Willowroot located and recovered five artifacts that once belonged to a forgotten king named Narven. With them I can create a shroud of their former master. The items will, of course, be returned and I will create a second shroud for him to keep, finally giving the burial honor to King Narven that has been denied </p><p>him for 200 years."</p><p></p><p>"Wow," Mook said. "And you know where this druid is? Somewhere around here?"</p><p></p><p>"Well, that is the thing. He is supposed to live around here but the scouts I hired have found any trace of the man yet. And I was hoping to be out of here before more snow falls."</p><p></p><p>"What are those items you are looking for? Maybe we can help? I have a hawk who could scout from above, and Mook here has a wolf companion and knows about forests." Zayel was definitely intrigued with all this. </p><p></p><p>Mook frowned at her friend, but she was fascinated by the matter as well. "We could certainly try. That is, if you would take us east with you – assuming that is where you are going next – so we have a better protection from weather and foe."</p><p></p><p>"Deal!" The professor now had an almost childish look of glee. “The five items are the breastplate of sacred fire, the wand of earth’s ire, the codex of the firmament, the vial of pure water, and the spirit-staff of Narven. I have here a map to the druid’s grove – although where in the forest it is, we don't know yet - and sketches of each of the five items."</p><p></p><p>"Perfect! I can't wait to get started." This was finally a mission right up Zayel's scholary alley. "Right first thing tomorrow, no?" He looked over at Mook, who nodded. </p><p></p><p>"Good good. I'll even pay for your rooms," the professor said and waived to the innkeep. </p><p></p><p>Zayel and Mook grinned at each other. This was much like the crazy exploits of their youth which, truth to be told, only ended a few weeks back. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>The merchant's caravan stayed on the clearing for the night, and it was only when the owner of the donkey requested its return from Mook that they noticed the gnome and the wizard were gone. The half-orc had been busy replacing an iron or two and help with a wagon while and Zaza and Edawon had made Kronk comfortable in their new tent. Krell was with the guards most of the time, trying to get as much information out of them as possible. They had assumed Mook was, as it had become a habit, patrolling the area with her companion to make sure nothing evil was out there, and Zayel was known to teach a few of the children how to read and write in the evenings.</p><p></p><p>It caused a bit of a stir, but the gate mages were long gone back by then, and from all they knew, the two of them and the animals weren't that far. "This is a well known gathering place," the leader of the guard explained. ""Most likely everyone they meet will direct them here. They might find us by early tomorrow, and at least they looked like they can take care of themselves."</p><p></p><p>While the rest of the party as not so sure about that, they simply nodded and went about their business. Not that there was anything they could do. An older man came to bring soup and medicine for the kobold – who had been quickly accepted after he drove away a group of hungry dogs from some merchant children – and the guards asked Krell if he could help stand watch that night, to which he readily agreed. </p><p></p><p>"This is bad," Zaza mumbled while getting ready to sleep. "First we get separated from Teltz and Bjön, now we lose Mook and Samin."</p><p></p><p>"Zayel," her real brother quickly corrected. "don't forget he is Zayel now." </p><p></p><p>"Yeah, right. In any case, it is not good." There was nothing more to say about that.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>"You did what?" Sitting in front of the fire a whole pig was roasting over where he had been trying to read one of the temple's old books, Bjön stared at Teltz and the gnome who was still hanging out with them in disbelief. "How could you do such a thing?"</p><p></p><p>"Well, let's see. For one, it is a temple to a devil. Asmodeus, devil, you know?" Teltz growled. "You as a paladin should understand that. And with all the talk about this town going to hell – literally, with the baron wanting to join Cheliax – it seemed the natural thing to do."</p><p></p><p>The dwarf put the book aside and took a deep breath. "So, you two decided to torch the temple? Like, burn it down? How much damage did you do? Where you seen?"</p><p></p><p>"Yes, a lot, and no, of course not," the thief snorted. "I might've been caught by an old dwarf but only because she was a sorceress and I didn't expect her. I was fully prepared for this." </p><p></p><p>"So was I," the bard dropped in. </p><p></p><p>"Great. Didn't we agree we want to stay out of trouble?" Ever since they had been told by some locals how the baron, one self important human named Vendikon, had decided to side with Cheliax after they had courted him for a while, they had been talking about laying low and only trying to warn the Andoran army once the snow was gone and they could press on. Right now, it was impossible for the Chelaxians to invade, anyway. </p><p></p><p>"We can't sit still anymore," Teltz explained. "Some agents from Cheliax arrived, and their army is only stuck in the snow or they would be here already."</p><p></p><p>"This snow will not lessen for weeks, I'm afraid," the paladin pointed out. </p><p></p><p>"The baron's men are already harassing the townsfolk," Teltz continued. "You can't talk freely, or sing all the songs you want." Teltz had, from the moment he had assessed the situation, only used love songs or some other harmless entertainment. </p><p></p><p>"The locals say they sneaked someone out to warn their government," Lerrim added. "So it stands to reason that as soon as the snow is gone, there will be a siege or outright battle. And we'd be in the middle unless we do something now. Plus, I know Cheliax and I hate devils."</p><p></p><p>Bjön pondered this for a moment. "Burning their temple down won't do much but make the patrols harass more people. Maybe arrest a few just because."</p><p></p><p>"It is a sign," Teltz disagreed. "And there are more citizens and visitors against this sort of betrayal than are on the baron's side. It might strengthen their morals."</p><p></p><p>"Please keep out of trouble," Bjön asked, almost pleadingly. "I agree we might want to do something, but we need to talk about what exactly in more private quarters..." he pointed to the other refugees of winter around them, who, although not in earshot, might still gather something. "And we need to think everything through carefully, alright?"</p><p></p><p>"Sure," Teltz replied. "OK," the gnome agreed less quickly. </p><p></p><p>As the two of them left, the paladin allowed a small grin to show on his face as he picked up the book again. Going against devil worshipers was definitely his agenda, too, but he had not expected the two of them to show so much activism. He would have to be careful to steer them towards the actions he envisioned. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>It had been easy enough to locate the grove with the help of Will, the hawk. It had been a bit more difficult to get there thanks to a narrow trail, and so it was already midmorning despite them, having left the inn early, when they arrived. At the location marked on Doctor Krane’s map, a clearing opened in the wood ahead. A crude stone altar constructed as a dolmen, a stone slab supported at either end by smaller stones, sat in the center of the clearing. Flanking it were two rough stone monoliths, lines of writing rudely chiseled into their surfaces. The altar and entire floor of the clearing was covered in a growth of thick, brown vines. </p><p></p><p>There was writing on the upper half of both of the monoliths. Zayel used a fly spell to fly up to where the writing was. Luckily, it was in Sylvan so he could read it without help. The inscriptions on the outside of the stones contain two riddles. The first riddle said “Two miles toward the sun’s first fire, the earth’s embrace will still its ire.” The second riddle stated “A league to the south in sacred mother’s home, the royal water is returned to its own.”</p><p></p><p>The inner faces of the monoliths held three rhyming hints. The first declared “Southeast four miles the image flies, atop forest giant in azure skies.” The second said “Lofty stone reaching higher, holds in its grasp the sacred fire.” Finally, the third stated “Six miles and some at forest’s heart, where name and namesake no longer part.”</p><p></p><p>It was easy for the flying wizard to notice the breastplate with the permanent image of a moving flame on it right atop one of the monoliths in a barely disguised concavity. He took it without worrying for traps. </p><p></p><p>"What's it with the riddles?" Zayel wondered as he came down again and relayed the information. </p><p></p><p>"I guess he wanted someone to find the items," Mook shrugged. "Could be part of a game to train apprentices."</p><p></p><p>"Maybe so, but the riddle about this breast plate was kinda pointless, as it was clearly visible once you read it all."</p><p></p><p>"Oh, maybe that served as a hint that those other rhymes are, in fact, leading to the artifacts." Mook shrugged. "You won't believe the dumb things gnome masters do to train their students."</p><p></p><p>"You think this druid was a gnome?" Zayel grinned. </p><p></p><p>"Nah, probably not, or there would have been some sort of a trap," the oracle chuckled. </p><p></p><p>"Will thinks he knows where the "giant" from the riddle is," the wizard said. "Giant tree to the south east."</p><p></p><p>Mook nodded and started down a deer trail into that direction. "Maybe if we hurry we can be back at the inn by noon."</p><p></p><p>The trees of the forest were older and grew much taller in this area. Carried softly on the breeze is a strange thumping noise. A massive hollow tree trunk towered above the surrounding woodland, once truly a forest giant. Upon one of its remaining upper limbs dangled a bone scroll case, swaying in the wind and thumping against its hollow side. This time, Zayel ordered the hawk to pick it loose and bring it down. "So, that makes two of them," he grinned. "And Will says he has found a pool of water probably related to the "royal water" riddle."</p><p></p><p>"This is easy enough," Mook agreed, "while still a bit of a challenge. I like those type of games. Maybe the druid is even expecting us?"</p><p></p><p>"Shouldn't you know?" teased the elf. "You are the oracle." Laughing, they marched on.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lwaxy, post: 5840897, member: 53286"] Through the icy clear afternoon, the small trek proceeded towards the shimmering gateway the two gatemages had opened. Mook, still wary of the whole idea, looked again to her wizard friend for reassurance. He smiled at her and petted his hawk familiar, but in truth he felt as worried. The traders they were traveling with were on their way to a place called Arthfell Forest. None of them had heard of it before, except Kronk, who claimed it was a bit of a spooky place, from what he had been told. There was no way to pass the mountains without major issues this time of year, so the traders had employed 2 gatemages who, with an enormous amount of energy, were able to open a gate from the plains outside the town they had found them in to anywhere else they had been before. Somewhat like a teleport, but different, Mook had been told. She cared less about this detail than about another. They all had to keep physical contact to one another and, through the first person in line, to one of the gatemages. As none of them could determine where they would come out, this was vital. Keeping in touch meant they would come out on a large clearing on a well traveled road. Losing contact would mean they could appear anywhere several miles away from where everyone else was. This sort of traveling was not yet well researched and supposedly people had gone lost several times before. One of the gatemages led the tied together wagons with several families in them. The other led the pack animals, caravan guards and guests like themselves. They were grabbing their front walker's belts, hands or backpacks, if they were not right out tied together like Zaza and Edawon and Mook and Zayel were. Most held their riding or pack animals. It was too bad not everyone fit into the wagons, Mook thought. But the wagons were filled with wares and trader families. So Mook was tied to her friend while her wolf and a donkey were tied to her. Zayel had his hawk on his shoulder, bound with a strap of leather so the familiar would not fly away in a panic. As there had not been enough ropes, Zayel held on to the belt of Majek, who led two horses and was tied to Krell. Krell in turn held on to Edawon's backpack. Kronk was riding on one of the horses Majek led, as the kobold had caught an annoying cold and was weak with fever. Strange, it was, that priests and healers could come up with all sorts of cures, but even the gods seem to be unable to find a cure for the common cold. On the other side of the gate, it was less cold but a lot wetter, which would probably not help Kronk at all, Mook thought. But they would have a much faster time traveling to Falcon's Hollow from that forest, so she had been told. And most likely they would find an inn to stop at and wait for the monk to feel better. The line with the wagon was through, and their own line was now beginning to move. Mook tried to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach and tried to remember all the ingredients for a sweat tea to help the kobold. She hoped her remedies would even work with lizards. Zayel kept suppressing a cough. The close proximity to his familiar was a problem but he could let the hawk fly again as soon as they would be through. Only a few people and animals before them. Majek stepped through, without hesitation as it seemed, and the wizard and the oracle followed suit. Just when they were over the edge, in some sort of shimmering corridor only seeming to be a few feet wide, the boy sneezed. The hawk's feathers were flying, and automatically putting his hands to his nose he lost the grip on the half-orc's belt. When they were through the gate, they found themselves standing in a small, barely snow covered trail leading up over a small hill in a dense forested area. The three-quarter-elf sneezed again. "Oh no!" Mook exclaimed, her voice full of panic. "Now we got lost!" Zayel had a bit of trouble freeing his hawk, who immediately flew up over the trees to check out the area. "Eh," he said, sounding hard pressed for air. "Maybbe dey a jus over de hill?" He sneezed again. There was no trace of the portal anymore. They had no such luck, of course. But they were not totally unlucky either, as a well build, bright colored inn with a large red sign proclaiming it THE TRAVELERS STOP INN and, judging from the horses looking out of a stable or tied to a hitching post and all the farm wagons in the front, quite some patronage, greeted them on the other side. Above the inn's sign, stretching across the front of the building was a banner with artistic lettering stating “The Traveling Exhibition of Doctor Phineus Krane, Professor of Antiquities and Master of Shroud Artistry.” A number of colorful tents have been set up at the rear of the inn yard, apparently for this exhibition. As evening was nearing, several workers could be seen securing the tents and wares for the night. Some late visitors were on their way home or into the inn. "At least we will not have to sleep out in the open," Zayel, now not sounding as clogged anymore, sighed. "Look, I'm very sorry, I should have founbd a rope to tie myself to the others..." "It's fine, we seem to be not so lost after all. We may be able to find the others, and asides, if needed, we have enough coin to make it to Falcon's Hollow on our own." Mook strode purposefully towards the inn, and Zayel shrugged and followed. Business was brisk as the long shadows of evening slanted through the taproom’s open windows. A bald, red-faced man wearing an apron worked behind the bar and several young girls carried platters of food and drinks to various tables. Most of the crowd seemed to be local farmers and traveling merchants, although clustered around one table sat a rough-looking group of mercenaries, one of whom was a short, black-cloaked figure who might be a goblin. They huddled over their drinks in quiet conversation, occasionally raising a head to eye the crowd. At a table nearby, a bespectacled scholarly looking fellow discussed a piece of decorated linen spread across the tabletop with a small group of onlookers. The owner of the exhibition, they guessed. The two of them ducked through the people to claim a small table close to the mercenaries and the group discussing the shroud. It was pleasantly warm in here, and so they dropped their cloaks and ordered some hot, spiced ale from a serving maid. They were just about to order their second round when the one they thought to be a goblin jumped off his chair to go outside and bumped into their table. Zayel's ale spilled over and hit the creature. It protested in a squeaky voice, and his friends got up all at once, except a fat guy who looked like a bored wizard. "Hey, you spilled your drink on our friend," the tallest of them stated the obvious. "Don't think because he's a goblin you can treat him like that." Zayel looked confused, but Mook knew troublemakers when she saw them. She was about to reply, maybe use a spell, when two of the other customers stepped into the way of the mercenaries. "Goblins are generally vermin, and this was an accident," one of them, a broad shouldered farmer, said. "Leave if you don't like it." A moment later, all hell broke lose. Zayel ducked under the table while Mook stepped back to the wall. Zayel had read about bar fights happening at random but until now he had always thought this to be an exaggeration. Mook had planned to keep her back safe, but bumped into the exhibition owner, who in turn knocked over a candle, and a moment later something started burning on the table. With an enraged shriek, water was splashed over it, but Mook paid little attention. She was focused on what she now realized was an ugly slim elf woman nearing her with a stein as weapon. Of course, the staff Mook had been using lately was popped up against their table, and not counting her dagger, she had little to work with. Her wolf, of course, was waiting outside as she had no intention of worrying the farmers. In her need to defend herself, she grabbed the nearest chair and barely blocked the stein from crushing down on her shoulder. A loud, commanding voice could be heard over the pandemonium, demanding for everyone to drop their weapons and stop damaging the inn. Hesitantly, the locals and finally the mercenaries obeyed and returned, grumbling, to the not yet broken parts of their tables. A tall human was shoving the leader of the mercenaries into the corner, berating him about having been warned before and to leave town immediately lest they want to spend the night in jail. As the mercenaries left, the goblin hissed and spat at Zayel who was still hiding under the table. Mook relaxed and put her chair back where she had taken it from. "Thank you for restoring order so quickly," she told the tall human. "I take it you are the law around here?" The man, obviously having planned to be more unfriendly, nodded in slight confusion about the compliment. "That I am. Cage Blunndee, sheriff of the area." "We were separated from our traveling companions," Mook went on, planning to use the momentum of the conversation. "A trade caravan that used some portal magic to get us here. Shifty spell, if you ask me, as we got lost, obviously. Would you happen to know of a large clearing with a major road going through it?" "Craggart's Meet," the bartender, busy gathering up broken glasses, replied immediately. "It is quite some distance to the east, though. You would need a few days to get there on foot." "Just great," Zayel grumbled as he got up and dusted himself off. "We have a wolf and a donkey but I guess that would not make us that much faster." "My shroud," the exhibition owner could now be heard at his table. "It is damaged, glad I could rescue most of it. Those mercenaries should pay for it." "I'm glad if we never see them again," the sheriff grumbled. "What's it you are exhibiting?" Curiosity overcoming his annoyance the wizard went over to the table. "Ah!" The man bowed and introduced himself, pleased at the interest. "I'm Professor Krane, Phineus Krane. I don't think you have heard of me?" He shook his head in an imitation of the supposed elf's gesture. "Of course not. The subject of my exhibits here at the Travelers Stop is a form of artistry called shrouding. By using certain reagents and magical properties, this art allows the image of a corpse or mummy to be captured orthographically... that is to say, with height, width, and depth... on the linen shroud in question. It was once a common technique among the burial practices of certain ancient cultures but has largely been lost today. The shroud in question that was almost destroyed carries the image of the Chelish King Haliad III. It is over four hundred years old and the centerpiece of my exhibition. Glad I warded it against most damage. Only brought it in here to show it to the young lass... oh she is gone now." The man's face showed slight disappointment as he ruffled his greying hair. "Isn't this a bad place to hold an exhibition, especially this time of year?" Mook wondered while Zayel studied the shroud. "Or are you only passing through?" "Oh, I'm here with a purpose." The scholar's eyes lit up. " Five years ago, a druid named Willowroot located and recovered five artifacts that once belonged to a forgotten king named Narven. With them I can create a shroud of their former master. The items will, of course, be returned and I will create a second shroud for him to keep, finally giving the burial honor to King Narven that has been denied him for 200 years." "Wow," Mook said. "And you know where this druid is? Somewhere around here?" "Well, that is the thing. He is supposed to live around here but the scouts I hired have found any trace of the man yet. And I was hoping to be out of here before more snow falls." "What are those items you are looking for? Maybe we can help? I have a hawk who could scout from above, and Mook here has a wolf companion and knows about forests." Zayel was definitely intrigued with all this. Mook frowned at her friend, but she was fascinated by the matter as well. "We could certainly try. That is, if you would take us east with you – assuming that is where you are going next – so we have a better protection from weather and foe." "Deal!" The professor now had an almost childish look of glee. “The five items are the breastplate of sacred fire, the wand of earth’s ire, the codex of the firmament, the vial of pure water, and the spirit-staff of Narven. I have here a map to the druid’s grove – although where in the forest it is, we don't know yet - and sketches of each of the five items." "Perfect! I can't wait to get started." This was finally a mission right up Zayel's scholary alley. "Right first thing tomorrow, no?" He looked over at Mook, who nodded. "Good good. I'll even pay for your rooms," the professor said and waived to the innkeep. Zayel and Mook grinned at each other. This was much like the crazy exploits of their youth which, truth to be told, only ended a few weeks back. The merchant's caravan stayed on the clearing for the night, and it was only when the owner of the donkey requested its return from Mook that they noticed the gnome and the wizard were gone. The half-orc had been busy replacing an iron or two and help with a wagon while and Zaza and Edawon had made Kronk comfortable in their new tent. Krell was with the guards most of the time, trying to get as much information out of them as possible. They had assumed Mook was, as it had become a habit, patrolling the area with her companion to make sure nothing evil was out there, and Zayel was known to teach a few of the children how to read and write in the evenings. It caused a bit of a stir, but the gate mages were long gone back by then, and from all they knew, the two of them and the animals weren't that far. "This is a well known gathering place," the leader of the guard explained. ""Most likely everyone they meet will direct them here. They might find us by early tomorrow, and at least they looked like they can take care of themselves." While the rest of the party as not so sure about that, they simply nodded and went about their business. Not that there was anything they could do. An older man came to bring soup and medicine for the kobold – who had been quickly accepted after he drove away a group of hungry dogs from some merchant children – and the guards asked Krell if he could help stand watch that night, to which he readily agreed. "This is bad," Zaza mumbled while getting ready to sleep. "First we get separated from Teltz and Bjön, now we lose Mook and Samin." "Zayel," her real brother quickly corrected. "don't forget he is Zayel now." "Yeah, right. In any case, it is not good." There was nothing more to say about that. "You did what?" Sitting in front of the fire a whole pig was roasting over where he had been trying to read one of the temple's old books, Bjön stared at Teltz and the gnome who was still hanging out with them in disbelief. "How could you do such a thing?" "Well, let's see. For one, it is a temple to a devil. Asmodeus, devil, you know?" Teltz growled. "You as a paladin should understand that. And with all the talk about this town going to hell – literally, with the baron wanting to join Cheliax – it seemed the natural thing to do." The dwarf put the book aside and took a deep breath. "So, you two decided to torch the temple? Like, burn it down? How much damage did you do? Where you seen?" "Yes, a lot, and no, of course not," the thief snorted. "I might've been caught by an old dwarf but only because she was a sorceress and I didn't expect her. I was fully prepared for this." "So was I," the bard dropped in. "Great. Didn't we agree we want to stay out of trouble?" Ever since they had been told by some locals how the baron, one self important human named Vendikon, had decided to side with Cheliax after they had courted him for a while, they had been talking about laying low and only trying to warn the Andoran army once the snow was gone and they could press on. Right now, it was impossible for the Chelaxians to invade, anyway. "We can't sit still anymore," Teltz explained. "Some agents from Cheliax arrived, and their army is only stuck in the snow or they would be here already." "This snow will not lessen for weeks, I'm afraid," the paladin pointed out. "The baron's men are already harassing the townsfolk," Teltz continued. "You can't talk freely, or sing all the songs you want." Teltz had, from the moment he had assessed the situation, only used love songs or some other harmless entertainment. "The locals say they sneaked someone out to warn their government," Lerrim added. "So it stands to reason that as soon as the snow is gone, there will be a siege or outright battle. And we'd be in the middle unless we do something now. Plus, I know Cheliax and I hate devils." Bjön pondered this for a moment. "Burning their temple down won't do much but make the patrols harass more people. Maybe arrest a few just because." "It is a sign," Teltz disagreed. "And there are more citizens and visitors against this sort of betrayal than are on the baron's side. It might strengthen their morals." "Please keep out of trouble," Bjön asked, almost pleadingly. "I agree we might want to do something, but we need to talk about what exactly in more private quarters..." he pointed to the other refugees of winter around them, who, although not in earshot, might still gather something. "And we need to think everything through carefully, alright?" "Sure," Teltz replied. "OK," the gnome agreed less quickly. As the two of them left, the paladin allowed a small grin to show on his face as he picked up the book again. Going against devil worshipers was definitely his agenda, too, but he had not expected the two of them to show so much activism. He would have to be careful to steer them towards the actions he envisioned. It had been easy enough to locate the grove with the help of Will, the hawk. It had been a bit more difficult to get there thanks to a narrow trail, and so it was already midmorning despite them, having left the inn early, when they arrived. At the location marked on Doctor Krane’s map, a clearing opened in the wood ahead. A crude stone altar constructed as a dolmen, a stone slab supported at either end by smaller stones, sat in the center of the clearing. Flanking it were two rough stone monoliths, lines of writing rudely chiseled into their surfaces. The altar and entire floor of the clearing was covered in a growth of thick, brown vines. There was writing on the upper half of both of the monoliths. Zayel used a fly spell to fly up to where the writing was. Luckily, it was in Sylvan so he could read it without help. The inscriptions on the outside of the stones contain two riddles. The first riddle said “Two miles toward the sun’s first fire, the earth’s embrace will still its ire.” The second riddle stated “A league to the south in sacred mother’s home, the royal water is returned to its own.” The inner faces of the monoliths held three rhyming hints. The first declared “Southeast four miles the image flies, atop forest giant in azure skies.” The second said “Lofty stone reaching higher, holds in its grasp the sacred fire.” Finally, the third stated “Six miles and some at forest’s heart, where name and namesake no longer part.” It was easy for the flying wizard to notice the breastplate with the permanent image of a moving flame on it right atop one of the monoliths in a barely disguised concavity. He took it without worrying for traps. "What's it with the riddles?" Zayel wondered as he came down again and relayed the information. "I guess he wanted someone to find the items," Mook shrugged. "Could be part of a game to train apprentices." "Maybe so, but the riddle about this breast plate was kinda pointless, as it was clearly visible once you read it all." "Oh, maybe that served as a hint that those other rhymes are, in fact, leading to the artifacts." Mook shrugged. "You won't believe the dumb things gnome masters do to train their students." "You think this druid was a gnome?" Zayel grinned. "Nah, probably not, or there would have been some sort of a trap," the oracle chuckled. "Will thinks he knows where the "giant" from the riddle is," the wizard said. "Giant tree to the south east." Mook nodded and started down a deer trail into that direction. "Maybe if we hurry we can be back at the inn by noon." The trees of the forest were older and grew much taller in this area. Carried softly on the breeze is a strange thumping noise. A massive hollow tree trunk towered above the surrounding woodland, once truly a forest giant. Upon one of its remaining upper limbs dangled a bone scroll case, swaying in the wind and thumping against its hollow side. This time, Zayel ordered the hawk to pick it loose and bring it down. "So, that makes two of them," he grinned. "And Will says he has found a pool of water probably related to the "royal water" riddle." "This is easy enough," Mook agreed, "while still a bit of a challenge. I like those type of games. Maybe the druid is even expecting us?" "Shouldn't you know?" teased the elf. "You are the oracle." Laughing, they marched on. [/QUOTE]
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