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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Altalazar" data-source="post: 2639742" data-attributes="member: 939">Book II    Cordozo – Chapter Ten – A Vision in the Dark    As part of my new moonlight profession, I decided to get to know these three better.  I invited them all to stay at my domicile in the city (a nice one, as befits my station).  Only the Pelorian, Brother Marcus, accepted, and only because he, as an acolyte of his god, was seeking to learn more about the world outside the cloistered halls of his temple.  The barbarian, E, refused as well, though he did stay in the good inn this night.  His inner voice taunted him to stay in the other inn, in hopes of catching his thief, but apparently his desire for a good night’s rest won out.  The diminutive one, Morwen, was nowhere to be found.      That night, I took the opportunity within the safe walls of my home to probe the Pelorian further as he slept.  Much to my surprise, I found much more than even he expected.  A vision came to him.  A landscape far to the north.  A temple.  A Pelorian priest pulled from it by a mob and beaten.  Then the landscape rushed by, leading back to the city, showing the way there.  As the vision faded from his mind, there was a loud thumping in the land of the outer voice.  Someone was at the door.    I quickly checked through the peephole and saw a Pelorian standing there, one with hair grayer than my Pelorian’s.  I opened the door and was met with a Brother Lector, who asked for Brother Marcus.  Quickly, they shared visions, though Brother Lector’s lacked Brother Marcus’s detail.  Apparently this meant the vision was for him to explore.  Brother Lector said as much, indicating that the head of his order, Father Ray, had “suggested” that Brother Marcus explore it.  That settled it for me.  Time to go shopping.  The Pelorian offered to pay me to go with him, which was touching, but I said I’d go on contingency, as before.  I suggested to him we wait until morning.  It was a long journey and we needed to rest and then properly equip ourselves.      Cordozo – Chapter Eleven – Shop so we don’t drop (in combat)    I quickly determined that I had no equipment (save my donated crossbow and 20 bolts) suitable for what is often known derogatorily as adventuring.  So I set out to buy rations, more bolts, a bedroll, a backpack, and whatever else the other’s suggested to me.      The diminutive one did agree to go on this venture, as did the barbarian (“Ok, me go.”)  Though it did take some time to locate the diminutive one – she finally did show up at the temple of Pelor.      One thing we quickly determined we did need was a wand of curing the lighter wounds (which we could afford).  The diminutive one did not want to make such a large investment at this time, at least not for one fully charged.  I could see no logic in this.  We could easily afford it with our collective fee from our last venture.  Apparently she had other ideas for her own investments.  But this still left we other three with plenty of gold to invest in such magical insurance.  Rather than argue endlessly on this point, I put up most of my own gold toward this purchase and, along with the barbarian and the Pelorian, we purchased said item, taking fifty gold coins and an IOU from the diminutive one to me for the effort.  As I had my rations and my bedroll, along with a few extra bolts, I failed to see any other use for my coin, anyway.  Though later it turned out that I probably should have bought a horse.  But that was also solved when the Pelorian bought both myself and the barbarian a mount and saddle and then borrowed one from his temple for himself.      Thus equipped, we prepared to journey north.    Cordozo - Chapter Twelve – If Treefall’s in the woods, can we find it?      With a little research, we determined that the probable name of the village at our destination was Treefall, ten days journey to the north.  Nine days later, we were camped, sitting around the warm fire, telling stories and enjoying the fresh air.  The barbarian was just enjoying the fresh air, some distance from the fire, taking cover behind some strange trees with needles instead of leaves.  Just as the tales were turning bawdy, I heard the sound of something approaching from the darkness.      I could make out only a small, grayish blob.  Before I could react, an arrow shot past my head and straight into the fuzzy beast’s hide.  An arrow well-used by the diminutive one.  The furry beast then charged the Pelorian, taking a rather large bite out of him.  I took the opportunity to fire my first crossbow bolt.  If I waited until morning, and then hired half the village to help me look, I might have a small chance of finding where it actually landed.      Upon closer inspection, the furry little beast looked almost… cute.  As was voiced by the Pelorian.  I was forced to agree.  “Yes, it is cute.  Let’s kill it.”  To be fair, it did take a bite out of one of our own.  Deed soon followed word, and it lay at our feet.  We dragged the body far away and then set up watches for the night.  I took the last watch, as usual, and heard a stirring in the woods from the direction of the body.   I woke the others.  When we approached it, we found instead a naked, handsome young man with an arrow sticking out of his side.  Now, to be truthful, I’d never seen a true lycanthrope, but I’d heard of it often enough, usually as part of an excuse or defense offered by my more creative (or insane) clients.  I’d always have to patiently explain to them that if they claim lycanthropy, they’ll have more to worry about than a court.  Angry mobs can be even more efficient than a well-bribed judge with a charmed prosecutor.      But we held our tongues on that point.  The young man turned out to be a lad named Arawn, who’s father owned “Joseph’s Inn” in Treefall, which turned out to be a very short walk to the north.  He also had a sister named Beth and his mother’s name was Valerie.  I kept thinking of how we were to break the news to his family.  When we reached the inn, I wondered if perhaps they already knew.  The inn itself had signs proclaiming that no one would be allowed to enter past dusk.  When asked, Joseph replied it was “bandits.”  “Furry bandits?” I asked.  To that, he did not reply.     The diminutive one and I vowed to seek information from the local populace after sharing breakfast with Arawin’s family at the inn.  As we ate, we heard a shady figure in the back mutter something about “no good adventurers” before sulking out of the inn, purposefully knocking Arawin down in the process.  The diminutive one, for her part, commented to him that it was a nasty thing to do.  “Nobody asked you” was the youth’s only reply before exiting the inn.  The barbarian sought him out to teach him some manners, but returned soon after, a sullen look on his face.  We did learn that his name was Cole Jenkins, Derris’ son, whomever Derris was.  I decided it was time to find out.</blockquote>

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