Swamp Trek III: The Search for Ter-raen

[covaithe]

The store door swings easily open at your touch, setting off a gentle jingle from some dangling metal bits. Inside are half a dozen closely spaced aisles of wooden shelves, each neatly packed with various supplies. To the right of the entrance is a sturdy wooden counter, scattered with traces of flour dust. Behind the counter are a few sparsely laden shelves, holding an assortment of bottles of various sizes. A portly man with thinning white hair stands behind the counter, making change for a customer, a middle-aged woman in a blue dress who eyes you dubiously. "Be with you in half a moment," the shopkeeper calls as you enter.

True to his word, he makes his goodbyes and bustles over to you, wiping his hands on a towel. "Welcome to our little town, folks! How can I help you today?" he says with a professional smile.

 

[jkason]

Weel Naxel, human cleric

In the face of the good-natured old man's greeting, the color drains from Weel's features. He bites his lips and glances at his companions, but then squares up his shoulders and speaks with only a slight quaver to his voice.

"Good sir, I'm afraid we have some bad ... back on the road, we chanced on a wagon, labelled as yours. It seems there's been ... there were monsters. We killed the monsters, but I'm afraid we came on the creatures well after the wagon's drivers had."

 

[covaithe]

The man's face falls. He sighs quietly, then moves to the door and flips a small sign into the "closed" position. "Tell me what happened," he says in a shaky voice.

The next hour is an awkward and painful one, as you explain your story to him as gently as possible, showing him the corroded belt buckle and what goods you were able to recover from the wagon. His youngest son, a teenage boy named Conrad, comes in halfway through, prompting another round of retelling and a fresh wave of tears.

At last all the explanations are done, and the elder Marchwand takes a deep breath. "Thank you kindly, strangers, for bringing me this news. At least now we know. I can't offer you much for a reward, but I'd be grateful if you would take these potions. They don't sell, in a town like this, and, well, I'd rather folks like you have 'em than they just go bad sittin' on a shelf. Sister Anemone made 'em, and they pack quite a punch, I'm told." He takes four dusty vials off of the shelf behind the counter, pressing them on you.


[sblock=ooc]Sorry for rushing through this; I was getting blocked on this scene and, RP-a-riffic though it is, it's not really central to the story. I'd rather move on.

The potions are Cure Moderate Wounds, caster level 3.
[/sblock]

 

[Richard Rawen]

Richard nods thanks to the old man, then helps put the recovered goods into the store wherever directed.
Once the sad scene has played out, he will go to his horse, Sally, and get her settled in at the stable. The young man spends some time brushing her down, feeding her oats and generally staying alone with his thoughts and his horse.

 

[Scott DeWar]

Karl accepts a cure moderate potion witn a nod.

"Sir, I know how deadly thes creatures were, As I almost died from them."

He then slowly turns to exit.

 

[jkason]

Weel Naxel, human cleric

Weel, saddened by the plight of the merchant's family, says little, only thanking the man for his reward. He joins the others in helping return the goods, then looks to the inn.

"I suppose we should take advantage of a good bed for a night before we continue, yes?" he says.

 

[Scott DeWar]

"That sounds wise to me." says Karl in a rather moroseful tone.

 

[Richard Rawen]

[sblock=OOC Potions]Richard has 2 Cure Light Wounds pots on him currently. If it works for the group he'll take one of the Cure Moderates, but if that leaves anyone without then Richard will be fine without. We hope [/sblock]

 

[jkason]

[sblock=OOC Potions]Richard has 2 Cure Light Wounds pots on him currently. If it works for the group he'll take one of the Cure Moderates, but if that leaves anyone without then Richard will be fine without. We hope [/sblock]

[sblock=OOC Potions]I believe there's just four of us, and four potions, so I just assumed we'd each take one.[/sblock]

 

[Richard Rawen]

Richard returns from the stables, washes up and settles in for some supper. Accepting his cure moderate potion with a nodded thanks, he tucks it into his carry-all and dives into his meal with gusto.

Sated, the young man settles back into his chair and looks over those present, he seems to study each face.
Finally, after lowering his eyes to the table, he speaks just loud enough to be heard by those at the table.
"Not to be morose. Things like what happened to those men are not part of the heroic legends. Quests to rid the world of evil, even such as our own mission, can be destroyed by random happenstance. I guess we all know that.
I want you fellows to know that should I fall in battle, and if you are able to recover my body and possessions, please divide my gear and treasure evenly, but return my blade to Tarag's forge if you can."
With that he orders a round of whatever folks are drinking and has the stoutest ale they can pour.
"To the Marchwands," he raises his mug in salute. "May they rest in peace."