Legacy of the Silver Dragon - Off to See the Goblins

[Voda Vosa]

Muzdim nods on various parts of Antares' ramblings, but he raises both eyebrows. "The Bell? You think this dark wizard is using the bell to plant the seed of discord among the populace? If that's the case, the man's a genius, I give him that. But what should we do about it now? You propose we go back to town?"

 

[Binder Fred]

Antares opens his mouth- then leaves it open, considering this new idea...

"No, probably not, master Stonehand... Though it does in truth worry my heart, that he likely did not stop at this one implement -- if that was indeed his intent... But Teacher Dysare knows of the curst bell, and will inform the community of the magically inclined... So likely all will be well?" He breathes in and straightens a little, "And we do have a mission of our own, of some urgency in its own right, do we not?"

His emerald eyes do not seem that sure though, seeking hints of confirmation or disagreement within the face of his companions -- even the dwarven priest. (Yes, these are dire times indeed!)

 

[Voda Vosa]

"Ayes, aye, we need to focus, and I need to heed my own advice. Lets press forward and hope for the best." the dwarf says, shaking off the cobwebs of doubt from his mind.

 

[gambler1650]

OOC: Let me know what your plan is regarding the trip. If you still plan to go into the logging camp itself or not. I'll try to get an update in before the weekend.

 

[Binder Fred]

As Stellan and lady Merrinburg seem to lean this way as well, Antares too feels secure enough to nod in agreement with the priest of secrets, although... "Perhaps we should - and could - send a message back along with a returning logger? Tell wise Teacher Dysare of our deductions?" he suggests as they restart on their way towards the camp.

 

[Voda Vosa]

"That might serve both purposes, aye, let us do that." the dwarf agrees.

OOC: I believe the plan is to enter the logging camp and send word to town.

 

[Binder Fred]

Once that's settled, it is... somehow freeing to have naught but the road ahead to worry about, now that decision has been taken and obligations carried out. Murder and weaving plots still threaten behind - certainly - goblinoid unrest (and perhaps violence) loom ahead - almost assuredly - and yet, for the next few days there can only be the simple physical struggle of bodies advancing ever forward, towards a common goal...

Yes, liberating.

And never mind the (growing?) discomfort in the region of his impacting soles.


OOC: Agreed.

 

[gambler1650]

Trees thin out further as the party moves along the trail, obviously Ascadar's logging efforts having occurred more recently. Closer to Ascadar, through areas you've already passed, small trees have begun to grow again - perhaps to eventually be harvested when they grow large enough. But here there are stumps of old trees everywhere among the brush that has sprung up to take advantage of the clearer sky overhead, uncluttered by majestic branches covered with leaves. Beatrix seems a touch more cheered as the group moves into this area - while not urban by any means, it does provide less nature for her to deal with.

The goblin on the other hand dislikes the open sky more and more at each step, even with the steps taken to make him more comfortable. More voices can now be heard ahead, and the rough structures of the camp come into view - small huts with tented roofs containing holes to allow smoke to go through, and a well that provides enough water to get the men through the day. Some of the men appear to be glancing over as the party moves up the trail towards the camp.

 

[Binder Fred]

"Ah, here we are, in truth," smiles a perhaps slightly overeager elven mage (his untrained soles have begun to hurt by now). "I... do not know how things work here, but perhaps we should address ourselves to the largish hut over there? From the smell on the wind, I imagine it is likely some simple kitchen, serving simple foods to simple men?"

That should get them the answers they seek, should it not?

<If so:
"Ah - Pray forgive us, oh good sir <or madam?> of stirring pots and cutting knives sharp, but whom should we, in truth, speak to of food and perhaps a tent over our party's head this night? For we have just come from fair Ascadar on a mission of some urgency, and aim to pass through on the morrow?"


OOC: I'm assuming it's getting towards the end of the afternoon or therebout, Gambler? If not, Antares'll ask if anybody would be willing to carry a message back to Ascadar instead, against small tokens of gratitude?

 

[gambler1650]

Eyes glance up from the loggers as they rest from the long day of work, some with bowls of soup that add a savory smell to the clearing. They flick away and then come back as the presence of such an odd appearing group - particularly perhaps the goblin - in their midst. Some get to their feet, and the party soon has a group of a half dozen or so looking at them. They don't appear to be in any hurry to make a comment, except for the person to whom Antares addresses himself, a youngish but well muscled man with dark, tousled hair. He has a friendly enough face, and even a smile on his face as he casually asks "And that... thing.." he juts his jaw towards the goblin, "is a member of your party? Why exactly?"