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Company of Chaos - All Around Golarion
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<blockquote data-quote="Lwaxy" data-source="post: 5844561" data-attributes="member: 53286"><p><strong>Tower of the Last Baron/Hollow's last Hope</strong></p><p></p><p>"What are you composing?" Bjön sat the small basket of winter apples next to the fire he was sharing with the bard and sat down next to the human with his lute, looking a bit tired. He had helped shoveling snow around the temple all day, and helped with an injured trapper who had been brought in earlier. The dwarf took an apple and relaxed on the bench. </p><p></p><p>"I'm trying to compose a teleport song. I can only teleport to certain places if they have a specific song written for them, and I need to compose that song while I am there. I admit it is far superior in many ways to what wizards do, but my bard school has made sure we all know the advantages, too." Teltz smiled at the surprise in the paladin's face. "I can only go to places I, personally, have written songs about, even if they are just short ones. I need to capture the feeling of a place, and I will know just when a song is right. So no sharing with other bards, and no simply going where I was before. On the bright side, once written, I need no spell components and not even an instrument, my voice is enough, and as opposed to a wizard, I can carry any number of people listening with me, and chose who, too." </p><p></p><p>"Now that's neat. How often can you do that? Have you done it before? Why didn't you tell me?" </p><p></p><p>"In theory," the bard smiled and sat down his instrument, "I can do it at any time. However, it takes time. It does not always work because to some places I just have no good connection. There is also the possibility that, once done with the song, my other spells will not work for a while afterwards, depending on how long it took me to get it just right. Of course, I also need to be right at the place I want to teleport to when writing the magic. This place seemed good, not very frequented usually, in a place where it might make sense to return to given that it looks like we'll be all over the world for a while and, most importantly, I have the time and inspiration right now.</p><p></p><p>I've not done it often before," the bard continued, taking an apple as well. "Mainly because the places you write about seem to take a piece of you and make you want to return. Or maybe it is more like they anchor a part of you. Most bards feel that way, those who don't sometimes get lost during a teleport. I did it at the inn in Tamran, because I had to wait so long and my connection to that place was strong. We might need to go back there eventually." </p><p></p><p>Bjön nodded. "Good idea. Kassen, too?"</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, a place just outside the town. I was using it to go back when I visited an old family member about who's home I also have a song about. Never even told Samin about it." He took a deep breath. "It is an ability that tends to make people pressure you to write songs about places they like when they travel with you. And they do not understand I cannot make songs all the time about all sorts of places, especially those I'm not connected to."</p><p></p><p>"No doubt. How often can you teleport?" Bjön took another apple. </p><p></p><p>"Once, at best twice a day. I haven't tried more than twice, anyway, and usually I let a day pass because I am really very exhausted afterwards."</p><p></p><p>"When do you expect to be done with this one?" the dwarf inquired while changing into his night gowns. Most other guests of the temple were already sleeping. </p><p></p><p>"I'm almost done. An hour or so more – if the music will not bother you." </p><p></p><p>The dwarf smiled widely. "Your music never bothers me unless it is too loud or about women of ill repute cheating their customers."</p><p></p><p>Chuckling, the human picked up his lute again. A while later, just when he was finally done, he noticed Lerrim making his way through the sleepers over to their fire. "You know Bumbo?" he asked as he sat down to warm himself up. His face was grim. </p><p></p><p>"Yeah of course, that imbecile nephew of the baron working at the kennels." Teltz put his things away and got ready for the night. "What about him?"</p><p></p><p>"Well, he's no imbecile, and I doubt he is the nephew of the baron. That son of a bitch is a spy." </p><p></p><p>Teltz stopped in his movements. "How do you figure?" </p><p></p><p>"Saw him sneaking about town, listening in on people who think he doesn't get what he's talking about. I used that tactic before. Then tonight, I followed him back to the kennel and he went into the lair of the largest bitch with pups and didn't come back out. So I talk to the dog and she says he is going down a tunnel every few nights and when he comes back he smells all liquor and food and like the baron."</p><p></p><p>Teltz whistled. "Now that's interesting. Good thing Bjön didn't let on about being a paladin."</p><p></p><p>"I was thinking," the thief continued. "If there is a tunnel that goes right into the dragon's lair, so to say, why not use it to kill the baron and rid the area of Chelish influence? The Andoran army is gathering for war, or at least a siege, once spring is around, but if we get the issue solved before we could all be on our happy ways. Not that he would like the idea." Lerrim pointed at the snoring paladin. </p><p></p><p>"Yeah, that would be a favorable approach," the bard agreed. He thought of his inkling that he might soon need a teleport song to this place. "But we'll need Bjön to fight off the guards."</p><p></p><p>"You can do sleep spells, can't you?" Lerrim wondered. </p><p></p><p>"Yeah but... see I just did something magical not making it likely my spells will all work as they should in the next few days, so we might have to wait a while."</p><p></p><p>"Alright, but a few days at most, ok? I have a feeling that arrests will begin soon." He didn't have to point out that strangers were usually the first ones arrested. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Traveling by boat around the wide arch of the rivers Arthrosh, Andoshen and Foam to Falcon's Hollow had been without incident. The trader who owned the boat they had hired stopped at the town anyway to deliver some of the more rare supplies to the Lumber consortium families. This time though, he was in a hurry to be away as soon as he had dropped his wares and advised them to run as well. </p><p></p><p>There was no doubt the town was in peril. Perched at the edge of civilized lands, the small town of Falcon’s Hollow had always had to rely on itself to solve its problems. Meanwhile, the uncaring lumber barons squeezed the common folk for every last copper, deaf to their pleas. Now the hacking coughs of the sick could be heard throughout town. The plague had come to Falcon’s Hollow and the town’s leaders couldn’t be bothered to stop it.</p><p></p><p>Majek, Zaza, Edawon and Krell were walking through the town the same morning of their arrival – having left the sick and disguised kobold at the Jak’a’Napes inn – the weirdest name for an inn in their opinion. From what they gathered, with the cold and wet weather, a mysterious plague had sprung up which defied all attempts to cure it. The only cleric around here could not heal diseases, and the woman in charge of herbal remedies seemed at her wits end. There had been casualties already, and Krell commented on how dumb that consortium could be not to want the town – and thus themselves and the business – healthy. The answer was probably, so they realized as they checked out the place in slowly falling snow, that there could only so much lumber be won still, and they probably already planned relocating their business, and thus leaving the town to doom anyway. Save those who followed them, of course. </p><p></p><p>"We should talk to that herbal lady," Edawon suggested. "Maybe there is something we can do, healing components we can bring in, anything." He pointed at a shop close to them. Dried out creeping ivy and full window boxes covered the font of the rugged-looking, two-story shop bearing the faded sign “Roots and Remedies.” A line of twenty-some somber townsfolk, some with pale, wheezing children, others seeming to be precipitously near tears, stretched from the open door. </p><p></p><p>"Well, that would take a while," Zaza protested. "And I'm not standing close to infected people, thank you." </p><p></p><p>Majek shrugged and started pushing through the line while dragging Zaza and Edawon behind him, trusting that Krell would follow. He didn't quite like to wait and talk, it was time for some action. Ignoring the protests of the waiting people, he burst into the shop. </p><p></p><p>The smell of burnt earth and spicy incense choked the air of the cramped, mud-tracked shop. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, along with dangling pots, presses, alchemical apparatuses, and glassware of more arcane purposes. Pouches of rare plants, jars of colored glass, and all manner of dried, preserved, and jellied animal parts filled high shelves and tables doing double duty as displays and workspaces. In the shop’s rear, a rail-thin woman with severe looking spectacles and hair pulled back tightly busied herself between an overpacked rack of herbs, a table covered in stray powders and measuring equipment, and a pot loudly bubbling over with thick gray froth. Over the din of her work and without looking up, the woman impatiently shouted “And what’s your problem?”</p><p></p><p>"Uhm... we actually wanted to help with this disease?" Zaza posed it like a question to be on the save side. "We've arrived this morning and thought we might have something you need to make the right medicine."</p><p></p><p>"You?" The woman looked over her glasses, studying them. "Unless you happen to have some strange ingredients for a potion my grandmother wrote down, you are of no help to curing blackscour taint."</p><p></p><p>"So that's what it is called," Edawon nodded. "Never heard of it."</p><p></p><p>“It’s a sickness, almost like any other, but you get the mold growing in you. It starts eating away in your chest and belly and is damned determined to stay. Your body near turns itself inside out trying to hack the stuff up, but all that does is cuts your guts up… bad. Blackscour itself is just a fungus that’s not good for anything. Hard, bitter, and sharp, it likes the water and gets you sick if you drink it down. Never heard of it growing around these parts, though, until now.” The woman went back to stirring the pot. "Not many non-humans around these parts. You'll be certain to get attention."</p><p></p><p>"You said your grandmother had a cure?" The half-orc brought the topic back to the matter at hand. </p><p></p><p>“My grandmother’s book has a brew in it that says its good for this kind of thing. Some rare roots and concentrations, most of which I have here, but there’s three I don’t. Elderwood moss, which I’ve never heard of, but granny says the stuff only grows on the oldest tree in a forest. A specially pickled root called rat’s tail, and ironbloom mushrooms, stunty little things that only grow in dark places thick with metal, a favorite among dwarves, or so I hear.”</p><p></p><p>Zaza scratched her head, while Majek and Krell shook theirs. Only Edawon nodded. "I know of Elderwood moss and the mushrooms," he said. "Never heard of the root but I could most likely find it. Do you know where they are supposed to grow around here?"</p><p></p><p>“Well, for the Elderwood mold, there’s gotta be an oldest tree in the vale. Damned if I know where it is, though. The rat’s tail and mushrooms are even longer shots. Way north, toward the mountains, people say there used to live a bunch of dwarves. They’re not there anymore, but I’d bet their forges are. If you can find ironbloom anywhere around here, that’d be your best bet. As for the rat’s tail, who knows? Actually, Ulizmila, the witch that lives deep in the woods might. She’s a crafty, mean thing that knows all sorts of strangeness. She might even have one. I don’t know what she might want for it if she is still alive, but I doubt it’d come cheap. My grandmother traded her sight to the old crone for a few pages of what she knew, and that was years and years back, and I don’t know a soul who got any nicer as they got older.” The woman was now stirring more vigorously, as if the topic angered or depressed her. Most likely, she was believing that no one would try and find anything, even with Edawon's offer.</p><p></p><p>"Any ranger or trapper or other woodsperson I could get in contact with to get started?" the halfling asked. </p><p></p><p>Wiping the sweat of her brow and looking pointedly at the door, in front of which people had started to protest loudly, Laurel the herbalist thought for a moment. "Milon Rhodam, I guess. He should be in the eastern lumber camp at the moment, trying to get as many trees down as possible before the snow gets too much, as always."</p><p></p><p>"Thanks, I'll see what I can do." Edawon waved the others out of the shop and they made their way back to their inn. </p><p></p><p>"You see what you can do?" Zaza snorted. "All alone?"</p><p></p><p>"Not quite, I'm taking him." He pointed at the half-orc. "Someone has to stay with Kronk, and neither of you has some survival experience. Majek can at least fight, better than the two of you anyway." </p><p></p><p>Zaza was about to protest, but Krell nodded and, considering she felt cold already, the halfling had no desire to stay out and about any longer than necessary, so she just nodded. So that afternoon, dressed in their warmest clothes, her half-brother and the ranger left to arrive at the lumber camp before the night. </p><p></p><p>The trek took a while, but asides from two wolves trying to eat them and quickly being discouraged by Majek's whirling ace, nothing happened. When they arrived, it was getting dark. The Lumber Consortium Camp cut an ugly scar of stumps into a dense stand of proud darkwood trees. Five sturdy-looking log buildings - seemingly a bunkhouse, meal hall, office, barn, and smithy - stood with numerous wide carts and sleds amid the sawdust covered clearing.</p><p></p><p>Asking around for Milon Rhoddam got them directed to a blunt, quiet man, who everyone agreed was one of the most experienced wanderers and woodsmen in the region. His nephew had taken ill with blackscour taint and so he gladly sketched the two of them a rough map of the forest, marking the location of where he believed Ulizmila’s hut, the oldest tree in the forest, and the dwarf ruins stood. He also invited them to his small hut for the night, and while they had to sleep on the ground, it was way better than being out in the cold. </p><p></p><p></p><p>-------------------------</p><p></p><p>Almost up to date with the progress again! <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lwaxy, post: 5844561, member: 53286"] [b]Tower of the Last Baron/Hollow's last Hope[/b] "What are you composing?" Bjön sat the small basket of winter apples next to the fire he was sharing with the bard and sat down next to the human with his lute, looking a bit tired. He had helped shoveling snow around the temple all day, and helped with an injured trapper who had been brought in earlier. The dwarf took an apple and relaxed on the bench. "I'm trying to compose a teleport song. I can only teleport to certain places if they have a specific song written for them, and I need to compose that song while I am there. I admit it is far superior in many ways to what wizards do, but my bard school has made sure we all know the advantages, too." Teltz smiled at the surprise in the paladin's face. "I can only go to places I, personally, have written songs about, even if they are just short ones. I need to capture the feeling of a place, and I will know just when a song is right. So no sharing with other bards, and no simply going where I was before. On the bright side, once written, I need no spell components and not even an instrument, my voice is enough, and as opposed to a wizard, I can carry any number of people listening with me, and chose who, too." "Now that's neat. How often can you do that? Have you done it before? Why didn't you tell me?" "In theory," the bard smiled and sat down his instrument, "I can do it at any time. However, it takes time. It does not always work because to some places I just have no good connection. There is also the possibility that, once done with the song, my other spells will not work for a while afterwards, depending on how long it took me to get it just right. Of course, I also need to be right at the place I want to teleport to when writing the magic. This place seemed good, not very frequented usually, in a place where it might make sense to return to given that it looks like we'll be all over the world for a while and, most importantly, I have the time and inspiration right now. I've not done it often before," the bard continued, taking an apple as well. "Mainly because the places you write about seem to take a piece of you and make you want to return. Or maybe it is more like they anchor a part of you. Most bards feel that way, those who don't sometimes get lost during a teleport. I did it at the inn in Tamran, because I had to wait so long and my connection to that place was strong. We might need to go back there eventually." Bjön nodded. "Good idea. Kassen, too?" "Yeah, a place just outside the town. I was using it to go back when I visited an old family member about who's home I also have a song about. Never even told Samin about it." He took a deep breath. "It is an ability that tends to make people pressure you to write songs about places they like when they travel with you. And they do not understand I cannot make songs all the time about all sorts of places, especially those I'm not connected to." "No doubt. How often can you teleport?" Bjön took another apple. "Once, at best twice a day. I haven't tried more than twice, anyway, and usually I let a day pass because I am really very exhausted afterwards." "When do you expect to be done with this one?" the dwarf inquired while changing into his night gowns. Most other guests of the temple were already sleeping. "I'm almost done. An hour or so more – if the music will not bother you." The dwarf smiled widely. "Your music never bothers me unless it is too loud or about women of ill repute cheating their customers." Chuckling, the human picked up his lute again. A while later, just when he was finally done, he noticed Lerrim making his way through the sleepers over to their fire. "You know Bumbo?" he asked as he sat down to warm himself up. His face was grim. "Yeah of course, that imbecile nephew of the baron working at the kennels." Teltz put his things away and got ready for the night. "What about him?" "Well, he's no imbecile, and I doubt he is the nephew of the baron. That son of a bitch is a spy." Teltz stopped in his movements. "How do you figure?" "Saw him sneaking about town, listening in on people who think he doesn't get what he's talking about. I used that tactic before. Then tonight, I followed him back to the kennel and he went into the lair of the largest bitch with pups and didn't come back out. So I talk to the dog and she says he is going down a tunnel every few nights and when he comes back he smells all liquor and food and like the baron." Teltz whistled. "Now that's interesting. Good thing Bjön didn't let on about being a paladin." "I was thinking," the thief continued. "If there is a tunnel that goes right into the dragon's lair, so to say, why not use it to kill the baron and rid the area of Chelish influence? The Andoran army is gathering for war, or at least a siege, once spring is around, but if we get the issue solved before we could all be on our happy ways. Not that he would like the idea." Lerrim pointed at the snoring paladin. "Yeah, that would be a favorable approach," the bard agreed. He thought of his inkling that he might soon need a teleport song to this place. "But we'll need Bjön to fight off the guards." "You can do sleep spells, can't you?" Lerrim wondered. "Yeah but... see I just did something magical not making it likely my spells will all work as they should in the next few days, so we might have to wait a while." "Alright, but a few days at most, ok? I have a feeling that arrests will begin soon." He didn't have to point out that strangers were usually the first ones arrested. Traveling by boat around the wide arch of the rivers Arthrosh, Andoshen and Foam to Falcon's Hollow had been without incident. The trader who owned the boat they had hired stopped at the town anyway to deliver some of the more rare supplies to the Lumber consortium families. This time though, he was in a hurry to be away as soon as he had dropped his wares and advised them to run as well. There was no doubt the town was in peril. Perched at the edge of civilized lands, the small town of Falcon’s Hollow had always had to rely on itself to solve its problems. Meanwhile, the uncaring lumber barons squeezed the common folk for every last copper, deaf to their pleas. Now the hacking coughs of the sick could be heard throughout town. The plague had come to Falcon’s Hollow and the town’s leaders couldn’t be bothered to stop it. Majek, Zaza, Edawon and Krell were walking through the town the same morning of their arrival – having left the sick and disguised kobold at the Jak’a’Napes inn – the weirdest name for an inn in their opinion. From what they gathered, with the cold and wet weather, a mysterious plague had sprung up which defied all attempts to cure it. The only cleric around here could not heal diseases, and the woman in charge of herbal remedies seemed at her wits end. There had been casualties already, and Krell commented on how dumb that consortium could be not to want the town – and thus themselves and the business – healthy. The answer was probably, so they realized as they checked out the place in slowly falling snow, that there could only so much lumber be won still, and they probably already planned relocating their business, and thus leaving the town to doom anyway. Save those who followed them, of course. "We should talk to that herbal lady," Edawon suggested. "Maybe there is something we can do, healing components we can bring in, anything." He pointed at a shop close to them. Dried out creeping ivy and full window boxes covered the font of the rugged-looking, two-story shop bearing the faded sign “Roots and Remedies.” A line of twenty-some somber townsfolk, some with pale, wheezing children, others seeming to be precipitously near tears, stretched from the open door. "Well, that would take a while," Zaza protested. "And I'm not standing close to infected people, thank you." Majek shrugged and started pushing through the line while dragging Zaza and Edawon behind him, trusting that Krell would follow. He didn't quite like to wait and talk, it was time for some action. Ignoring the protests of the waiting people, he burst into the shop. The smell of burnt earth and spicy incense choked the air of the cramped, mud-tracked shop. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, along with dangling pots, presses, alchemical apparatuses, and glassware of more arcane purposes. Pouches of rare plants, jars of colored glass, and all manner of dried, preserved, and jellied animal parts filled high shelves and tables doing double duty as displays and workspaces. In the shop’s rear, a rail-thin woman with severe looking spectacles and hair pulled back tightly busied herself between an overpacked rack of herbs, a table covered in stray powders and measuring equipment, and a pot loudly bubbling over with thick gray froth. Over the din of her work and without looking up, the woman impatiently shouted “And what’s your problem?” "Uhm... we actually wanted to help with this disease?" Zaza posed it like a question to be on the save side. "We've arrived this morning and thought we might have something you need to make the right medicine." "You?" The woman looked over her glasses, studying them. "Unless you happen to have some strange ingredients for a potion my grandmother wrote down, you are of no help to curing blackscour taint." "So that's what it is called," Edawon nodded. "Never heard of it." “It’s a sickness, almost like any other, but you get the mold growing in you. It starts eating away in your chest and belly and is damned determined to stay. Your body near turns itself inside out trying to hack the stuff up, but all that does is cuts your guts up… bad. Blackscour itself is just a fungus that’s not good for anything. Hard, bitter, and sharp, it likes the water and gets you sick if you drink it down. Never heard of it growing around these parts, though, until now.” The woman went back to stirring the pot. "Not many non-humans around these parts. You'll be certain to get attention." "You said your grandmother had a cure?" The half-orc brought the topic back to the matter at hand. “My grandmother’s book has a brew in it that says its good for this kind of thing. Some rare roots and concentrations, most of which I have here, but there’s three I don’t. Elderwood moss, which I’ve never heard of, but granny says the stuff only grows on the oldest tree in a forest. A specially pickled root called rat’s tail, and ironbloom mushrooms, stunty little things that only grow in dark places thick with metal, a favorite among dwarves, or so I hear.” Zaza scratched her head, while Majek and Krell shook theirs. Only Edawon nodded. "I know of Elderwood moss and the mushrooms," he said. "Never heard of the root but I could most likely find it. Do you know where they are supposed to grow around here?" “Well, for the Elderwood mold, there’s gotta be an oldest tree in the vale. Damned if I know where it is, though. The rat’s tail and mushrooms are even longer shots. Way north, toward the mountains, people say there used to live a bunch of dwarves. They’re not there anymore, but I’d bet their forges are. If you can find ironbloom anywhere around here, that’d be your best bet. As for the rat’s tail, who knows? Actually, Ulizmila, the witch that lives deep in the woods might. She’s a crafty, mean thing that knows all sorts of strangeness. She might even have one. I don’t know what she might want for it if she is still alive, but I doubt it’d come cheap. My grandmother traded her sight to the old crone for a few pages of what she knew, and that was years and years back, and I don’t know a soul who got any nicer as they got older.” The woman was now stirring more vigorously, as if the topic angered or depressed her. Most likely, she was believing that no one would try and find anything, even with Edawon's offer. "Any ranger or trapper or other woodsperson I could get in contact with to get started?" the halfling asked. Wiping the sweat of her brow and looking pointedly at the door, in front of which people had started to protest loudly, Laurel the herbalist thought for a moment. "Milon Rhodam, I guess. He should be in the eastern lumber camp at the moment, trying to get as many trees down as possible before the snow gets too much, as always." "Thanks, I'll see what I can do." Edawon waved the others out of the shop and they made their way back to their inn. "You see what you can do?" Zaza snorted. "All alone?" "Not quite, I'm taking him." He pointed at the half-orc. "Someone has to stay with Kronk, and neither of you has some survival experience. Majek can at least fight, better than the two of you anyway." Zaza was about to protest, but Krell nodded and, considering she felt cold already, the halfling had no desire to stay out and about any longer than necessary, so she just nodded. So that afternoon, dressed in their warmest clothes, her half-brother and the ranger left to arrive at the lumber camp before the night. The trek took a while, but asides from two wolves trying to eat them and quickly being discouraged by Majek's whirling ace, nothing happened. When they arrived, it was getting dark. The Lumber Consortium Camp cut an ugly scar of stumps into a dense stand of proud darkwood trees. Five sturdy-looking log buildings - seemingly a bunkhouse, meal hall, office, barn, and smithy - stood with numerous wide carts and sleds amid the sawdust covered clearing. Asking around for Milon Rhoddam got them directed to a blunt, quiet man, who everyone agreed was one of the most experienced wanderers and woodsmen in the region. His nephew had taken ill with blackscour taint and so he gladly sketched the two of them a rough map of the forest, marking the location of where he believed Ulizmila’s hut, the oldest tree in the forest, and the dwarf ruins stood. He also invited them to his small hut for the night, and while they had to sleep on the ground, it was way better than being out in the cold. ------------------------- Almost up to date with the progress again! :) [/QUOTE]
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Story Hour
Company of Chaos - All Around Golarion
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