Nail
First Post
Continuing Session #3: "Uggg….Doc, I don’t feel so good…."
(Session of RL March 16th, 2003)
With the giant rats chased away and Robert Faegan stabilized, the party discussed plans. Both Riva and Thaile could already feel the encroaching effects of the “flith fever”, and they knew it would take them at least a few days to recover. Riva’s amazing fortitude not withstanding, the party would have to stay in town, at least for a while.
They took Mr. Faegan into town to his house, and had Riva and Thaile stay there as well, to recuperate. Rowan tended them, while Garret went to do the party errands: the Captain must be told the news of the rats, and Mrs. Faegan (Eaglesford’s most capable healer) needed to be fetched from Gregson the Younger’s farm. Teiran, after being assured his fellow party members were safe and out of danger, left for his study.
Garret, riding his trusty wardog Bavic, caught up with Mrs. Faegan just as she had reached the wounded child of the Gregson’s. Garret told her the news of her husband’s injuries and the rat’s attack. She received the news as calmly as she could. She was especially thankful when Garret told her that her husband was stable, and in good hands. Mrs. Faegan used a simple prayer to fully heal the child, gave the child’s parents instructions for their son’s care, then hurried off with Garret toward town.
By the time they had returned to town, the mill had been cleared of rodent carcasses by some helpful village folk. Two young men stood near the mill’s front, spears and shields in hand. They told Garret that no more rats had been seen, and that the Captain and his men had already left to visit the abandoned Smitson farm. Garret hurried along to join Mrs. Faegan at her house, where the rest of the party lay.
Mrs. Faegan examined their wounds and checked their health. “Their wounds we can heal fairly easily”, she said, “but this fever they’re developing…it will take almost a week to shake off it’s effects, if we’re lucky.”
“Do ya have any magical potions, t’ help us with th’ fever?” Riva asked.
“I do. But not enough for all of you, I’m afraid. I myself can’t make them…and they’re very expensive. I have one magical potion that can remove any disease, and another that can cure wounds. …..I’m afraid that’s all. …And I’d rather save the cure disease one for any emergency.”
“A good idea,” interjected Garret, “but, perhaps we could buy the wound-healing potion from you?”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Faegan, as she finished tending to her husband.
Later, the party discussed their options, and went over what treasure they had accumulated from the battles with the restless dead. Not much, but more than any of them had before they had started: several gems and rings, two gold bracelets, a silver necklace, and a well-made throwing axe. After some hesitation, Garret proposed they use the money to buy more healing potions, perhaps from “another source” he might know.
“Yer aunt, eh?” said Riva, “That crazy old witch can make magical potions?”
“She calls them ‘infusions’”, responded Garret, curtly, “and yes, she can make them. A fact you should be thankful for.”
The party agreed to give Garret a few gems and a bracelet to exchange for what ‘infusions’ his aunt might provide. Garret set off alone toward his house. Friends would not be welcome on this errand. Even Bavic, his riding dog, was left behind at the Faegan household. He usually stayed as far away as possible from the house he shared with his “aunt”. The gossip around the hamlet was that his aunt was the reason the young halfling had first entered the service of the church. Training to be a paladin of Morwyn took time. A lot of time. Time spent in the castle of the Lord of Eaglesford, and not at home, being yelled at by a crazy-woman.
Once Garret reached the house, he first went upstairs, to be sure the lock on his bedroom door was still closed and intact. Satisfied, he descended the stairs, and heard the scrabble of old halfling feet approaching.
“What're you here for!?” screeched the old halfling woman. Her hair was in grey scraggly tuffs about her head, held in place, as always, by bits of animal skins.
Her smell almost over-powered Garret, as he coughed out a reply, “My companions and I would like to purchase some of your magical infusions. What do you have?” Garret had found out long ago not to mince words with his aunt.
“So…you’re out adventuring, are you?” The old woman giggled and waved her arms about. “Oh, what fair young thing did you rescue? Did you kill anything? Anything try to tear your eye-balls out?” The old halfling turned her back to Garret and slouched off down the hall toward her workshop. Garret followed, silently.
The two entered the old witch’s workshop. Bunches of plants and various animal parts hung from the ceiling. A small iron pot bubbled over the fire. Abruptly the old woman whirled. “I suppose you didn’t keep their left hands, as I asked you to, did ye?”
“No, aunt. I did not……”
“The left ones now, you remember! The left ones!!!” she yelled, spittle flying.
“Yes, aunt. The left ones…..”
“And not the right. Don’t bring me any right hands, now……” She nodded her head, and a satisfied smile crept across her face.
“You have some infusions?....” asked Garret, trying to lead the conversation back to less gristly topic.
“Yes, yes. I have four prepared. Three are draughts that will close your wounds, should you get hurt on your ‘adventures’”, the old woman tried to stifle a laugh. “Adventures!” She cackled and smiled broadly.
Garret stayed quiet, looking at her expectantly. The old woman composed herself and went on, “An’ there’s one draught that’ll give you magical protections! Protect you from what monsters you might be facing. You'll need that, I warrant.”
“I’ll take them all. Here are 2 gems and a bracelet of gold, for trade.”
The old woman took the treasures, looked them over closely, and then nodded her head, “Yes, yes. These will do. Here you are then,” she handed Garret four tiny pottery vials. Three had blue-dyed wax stoppers, one had yellow. On their sides were painted small black runes, which Garret couldn’t decipher.
As Garret turned to leave, the old woman shouted after him, “Bring me the left hands, you hear? Only the left ones!!”
Garret hurried back to his friends.
Session #3, to be continued!
(Session of RL March 16th, 2003)
With the giant rats chased away and Robert Faegan stabilized, the party discussed plans. Both Riva and Thaile could already feel the encroaching effects of the “flith fever”, and they knew it would take them at least a few days to recover. Riva’s amazing fortitude not withstanding, the party would have to stay in town, at least for a while.
They took Mr. Faegan into town to his house, and had Riva and Thaile stay there as well, to recuperate. Rowan tended them, while Garret went to do the party errands: the Captain must be told the news of the rats, and Mrs. Faegan (Eaglesford’s most capable healer) needed to be fetched from Gregson the Younger’s farm. Teiran, after being assured his fellow party members were safe and out of danger, left for his study.
Garret, riding his trusty wardog Bavic, caught up with Mrs. Faegan just as she had reached the wounded child of the Gregson’s. Garret told her the news of her husband’s injuries and the rat’s attack. She received the news as calmly as she could. She was especially thankful when Garret told her that her husband was stable, and in good hands. Mrs. Faegan used a simple prayer to fully heal the child, gave the child’s parents instructions for their son’s care, then hurried off with Garret toward town.
By the time they had returned to town, the mill had been cleared of rodent carcasses by some helpful village folk. Two young men stood near the mill’s front, spears and shields in hand. They told Garret that no more rats had been seen, and that the Captain and his men had already left to visit the abandoned Smitson farm. Garret hurried along to join Mrs. Faegan at her house, where the rest of the party lay.
Mrs. Faegan examined their wounds and checked their health. “Their wounds we can heal fairly easily”, she said, “but this fever they’re developing…it will take almost a week to shake off it’s effects, if we’re lucky.”
“Do ya have any magical potions, t’ help us with th’ fever?” Riva asked.
“I do. But not enough for all of you, I’m afraid. I myself can’t make them…and they’re very expensive. I have one magical potion that can remove any disease, and another that can cure wounds. …..I’m afraid that’s all. …And I’d rather save the cure disease one for any emergency.”
“A good idea,” interjected Garret, “but, perhaps we could buy the wound-healing potion from you?”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Faegan, as she finished tending to her husband.
Later, the party discussed their options, and went over what treasure they had accumulated from the battles with the restless dead. Not much, but more than any of them had before they had started: several gems and rings, two gold bracelets, a silver necklace, and a well-made throwing axe. After some hesitation, Garret proposed they use the money to buy more healing potions, perhaps from “another source” he might know.
“Yer aunt, eh?” said Riva, “That crazy old witch can make magical potions?”
“She calls them ‘infusions’”, responded Garret, curtly, “and yes, she can make them. A fact you should be thankful for.”
The party agreed to give Garret a few gems and a bracelet to exchange for what ‘infusions’ his aunt might provide. Garret set off alone toward his house. Friends would not be welcome on this errand. Even Bavic, his riding dog, was left behind at the Faegan household. He usually stayed as far away as possible from the house he shared with his “aunt”. The gossip around the hamlet was that his aunt was the reason the young halfling had first entered the service of the church. Training to be a paladin of Morwyn took time. A lot of time. Time spent in the castle of the Lord of Eaglesford, and not at home, being yelled at by a crazy-woman.
Once Garret reached the house, he first went upstairs, to be sure the lock on his bedroom door was still closed and intact. Satisfied, he descended the stairs, and heard the scrabble of old halfling feet approaching.
“What're you here for!?” screeched the old halfling woman. Her hair was in grey scraggly tuffs about her head, held in place, as always, by bits of animal skins.
Her smell almost over-powered Garret, as he coughed out a reply, “My companions and I would like to purchase some of your magical infusions. What do you have?” Garret had found out long ago not to mince words with his aunt.
“So…you’re out adventuring, are you?” The old woman giggled and waved her arms about. “Oh, what fair young thing did you rescue? Did you kill anything? Anything try to tear your eye-balls out?” The old halfling turned her back to Garret and slouched off down the hall toward her workshop. Garret followed, silently.
The two entered the old witch’s workshop. Bunches of plants and various animal parts hung from the ceiling. A small iron pot bubbled over the fire. Abruptly the old woman whirled. “I suppose you didn’t keep their left hands, as I asked you to, did ye?”
“No, aunt. I did not……”
“The left ones now, you remember! The left ones!!!” she yelled, spittle flying.
“Yes, aunt. The left ones…..”
“And not the right. Don’t bring me any right hands, now……” She nodded her head, and a satisfied smile crept across her face.
“You have some infusions?....” asked Garret, trying to lead the conversation back to less gristly topic.
“Yes, yes. I have four prepared. Three are draughts that will close your wounds, should you get hurt on your ‘adventures’”, the old woman tried to stifle a laugh. “Adventures!” She cackled and smiled broadly.
Garret stayed quiet, looking at her expectantly. The old woman composed herself and went on, “An’ there’s one draught that’ll give you magical protections! Protect you from what monsters you might be facing. You'll need that, I warrant.”
“I’ll take them all. Here are 2 gems and a bracelet of gold, for trade.”
The old woman took the treasures, looked them over closely, and then nodded her head, “Yes, yes. These will do. Here you are then,” she handed Garret four tiny pottery vials. Three had blue-dyed wax stoppers, one had yellow. On their sides were painted small black runes, which Garret couldn’t decipher.
As Garret turned to leave, the old woman shouted after him, “Bring me the left hands, you hear? Only the left ones!!”
Garret hurried back to his friends.
Session #3, to be continued!
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