Feint Whispers Chapter #5: The Excavation

[jasamcarl]

Mist still hangs heavy in the dawn sky over the hilltop where the Order of the Risen Star resides. The rest of the caravan crew had departed with the pack animals to head by to Duvik's Pass. Now it is the turn of the Fists, who are packed with their horses and wagon infront of the main Cathedral building. Jericho has recovered from the touch of stirge and undeath alike. A congregation of monks dressed in black robes stands to wish them farewell, lead by the still grieving Brother Gerrard. Last hangs near his feet.

Word came to the order the day before that fighting had broken out in the surrounding mountains and valleys between Palidans of the Order of Lothar and local orcish tribes. Vague rumors of heretical cults who support the coming Usurper have also come in through refugees and representatives of razed villages seeking assistance from the clerics. The situation is hectic and the supplies delivered from Duvik are being prepared for distribution to the locals. Activity is everywhere on the hilltop this morning.

The Abbot speaks, "We are pleased to have had you as our guests. Your presence over the past several days has been a solace, but now you must go, as I am sure Whiteclove will soon have need of you, and the road ways are becoming more and more the province of orc raiders. Brother Bhartus, though we may have few dwarves here, they are among the most stalwart of subjects in virtue; I hope you will return to stiffen them against despair and the corruption that threatens this land. Jericho, your visit has been, as always, interesting; perhaps the next time you visit, you will have enough spare humility to accept Telmor as your patron and Lord.." A frown crosses his face, "I know if there is any part of Durham's spirit left in this place, he would look kindly on your return." He looks down to Norri, then Whitney, then finally Tarowyn, "To find such new friends with so many differing virtues....The All-Father sees nobility in all peoples." His gaze hangs briefly on Whitney at that before he backs away to allow for the wagon and party room to depart.

 

[Tokiwong]

Jericho gets astride his steed, Saladin, "I am quite the humble soul, but Jericho Ibn al Sufaed, bows to no gods, though I respect their place where they stand, my fate is mine, and mine alone.."

Jericho kicks his steed forward, "Ya, ya, yaleleleleleleleleeee!" Jericho rides for Duvik's Pass, hoping to assist with the recent orcish raids, and of course another adventure!

 

[KaintheSeeker]

Whitney blinks at the pointed comment and look, suprised that an abbot of a provincial monestary would know her secrets so well, though she supposes a learned cleargy man would be well read as well. Her hand touches the pouch that she keeps her father's signet in as she bows to him.

"Thank you for your hospitatly, and I am only sorry that we arrived too late to help your lost folk." finishes her bow and picks up Mist and puts her on her shoulders. "Hopefully we can return to visit on more peaceful times."

 

[Krug]

"Thank you Abbot. Dwarves must be reminded the Moradin watches over them, wherever they may be," says Bhartus. "May your days be graced with victory and then peace."

 

[Festy_Dog]

Norri waves quietly, to Last in particular, as they make their way back.

"Cheers all," he says, "Till next time, aye?"

 

[Mirth]

"Again I thank you, brothers, for your kindness and thoughtfulness," Tarowyn says as he mounts his horse. The elf raises his fist once again and rides out to join the group as they depart.

 

[jasamcarl]

The Fists wind their way down the hill back onto the rough trail that hugs the foothills to the south and the lightly forested lowlands to the north. The noon sun comes and goes, striking across large wheatfields that are cut into the woods along the way east. The day is marked by an odd silence, with only the occasional and distant drums from the mountains to break the dearth of noise.

As the Sun falls and dusk comes, the party spots the tail end of a line of wagons trudging ahead. Farm implements and furniture is stacked are packed on horse and wagon, while people flank the cargo along the edges of the dirt road, looking dirty and tired; many are young, their clothing little more than shreds. As the party nears the rearmost wagon, several people turn in a fright, catching a hint of the weapons, especially the figure of Jericho, feint moon and sunlight sparkling against his black armor as he sits astride his warhorse. The figures bow huridly to the Fists. A moment or two later, several older men fall behind the caravan. All quickly say a, "G'day, Lords."

One gray-haired fellow speaks for the others, "Care to join our company for the night's stop? It be bad times, what with the orc and all. Travelers be needing to stick together."

 

[Tokiwong]

One gray-haired fellow speaks for the others, "Care to join our company for the night's stop? It be bad times, what with the orc and all. Travelers be needing to stick together."

Jericho comes to a canter, as the old man speaks, "I don't see any harm in that, the Fists of Duvik, would welcome such company I suppose. We are aware that orc raids have become more commonplace, and any chance to clash steel with orcs is a good day indeed."

Jericho laughs, a hearty bellowing laugh, "Any chance for a hot meal tonight?"

 

[KaintheSeeker]

The Fists wind their way down the hill back onto the rough trail that hugs the foothills to the south and the lightly forested lowlands to the north. The noon sun comes and goes, striking across large wheatfields that are cut into the woods along the way east. The day is marked by an odd silence, with only the occasional and distant drums from the mountains to break the dearth of noise.

As the Sun falls and dusk comes, the party spots the tail end of a line of wagons trudging ahead. Farm implements and furniture is stacked are packed on horse and wagon, while people flank the cargo along the edges of the dirt road, looking dirty and tired; many are young, their clothing little more than shreds. As the party nears the rearmost wagon, several people turn in a fright, catching a hint of the weapons, especially the figure of Jericho, feint moon and sunlight sparkling against his black armor as he sits astride his warhorse. The figures bow huridly to the Fists. A moment or two later, several older men fall behind the caravan. All quickly say a, "G'day, Lords."

One gray-haired fellow speaks for the others, "Care to join our company for the night's stop? It be bad times, what with the orc and all. Travelers be needing to stick together."

"We would be happy to give what aid we can." Whitney says as she trots up on her horse, a gentle smile on her face.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Norri gives a little salute from his spot in the back of the wagon.

"Happy to assist," he notes jovially, should anyone ask his opinion.