Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Blarkon Dragonslayer" data-source="post: 3581798" data-attributes="member: 49372">Kanek and the dwarven soldiers decide to push on, since their orders are to push on to Bright Rock with all speed.  So it is that a few hours after meeting the riders, the group parts company with their travelling companions, heading up a narrow defile, which snakes up a mountainside away from the pass.  Various people in the group note pairs of bow-armed sentries here and there, in the rocks above the narrow trail, as they climb. The riders are afoot now, leading their mounts, which Redbeard can tell are exceptional examples of horseflesh. (Mostly war-trained light horses with Elite Array stats)None of the riders seem all that interested in chatting, though they don't seem particularly hostile, either.  Eventually the trail ends, in a small valley, but one watered by a small waterfall and brook, with a good bit of grass.  A large herd of horses can be seen, in the distance.  The camp itself has the look of something semi-permanent, though it also looks like almost all the dwellings are tents, and most of the camp could be knocked down and packed away in a very short time.Roughly speaking, there are probably a hundred men in the camp, with maybe half that many  women, and a scattering of children.  In front of the largest tent, is a rough pole, on which a tattered white banner hangs.  As the wind catches it, the banner unfurls, to reveal a well-stitched crimson eagle.The Crimson Eagle is well-known, at least locally, as the symbol of the Men of Mallon Hill, the banner they fought under, and a tattoo each man wore on his right arm.It is that tent to which the adventurers are led.  Only the leader of the riders is with them when they enter.  He bows low to a figure seated in the shadows. "Old Father, I have brought the interlopers for your judgement."There is a low, dry chuckle from the shadowed figure. "Osric...you are a fine warrior. But your social graces..."  There is a another chuckle, followed by a rough cough.  "But my own manners are lacking...have wine brought for our guests. We have few enough of them in these sorry times. And lanterns...I'd look upon them in the light, with apologies in advance for my own appearance."Two young women, neither of whom looks like a servant, but who willingly enough light lanterns, lighting the tent more fully.  The man speaking is quite old, in his late seventies, at the least. His body shows the ravages of age, though in his prime he was probably quite a strapping sort.  His eyes show a mixture of hardness and amusement, as he gestures to seats around a long, low table. "Be welcome, servants of the Stone Thane. I am Edran, last of the knights of Mallon Hill."</blockquote>

Verification