(YBA) Oskarn the Traveler on the Caravan Road.

[Yellow Sign]

Modric gives you the names and locations of various merchants in the town. Then he says, "As for a discount, the fewer people who know about your errand the better I would think. Much safer for you." With that, Modric steps towards the mansion's doorway. He pauses and turns to you. "Would you like to see why you are going on this quest?"

 

[Ciaran]

"Of course," says Oskarn smoothly, following Modric into the mansion. He keeps a sharp eye out for valuables and for the place's doors, windows, guards, locks, and other elements of layout and means of security.

 

[Yellow Sign]

With a word from Modric, the guards admit you into the mansion. If the burgermeister's office was well appointed, his home is lavish. A large entryway opens up to a hall with a large staircase of rich wood and several archways to other rooms. Fine rugs, furniture, and paintings decorate the room. A large fire place sits in a corner. A pair of large wolfhounds rest on a rug by the stairs. The both lift their heads as you enter. One emits a deep low growl. But with a soft word from Modric, he stops but the dog continues to stare at you. You both walk up the stairs and then down a hallway. Modric walks to one of the doors and enters. You see a bedroom with a large four posted bed. A nurse sits by the bed and wipes the brow of a young woman who rests there. A lump catches in your throat. The woman laying in the bed is a angelic beauty. Her long raven colored hair cascades about her pillow. Her face though pale is the picture of female perfection and her long delicate hands rest by her side. She seems to be asleep but restless as she lets out a faint cry.
"How did our lady do last night, Padme?" asks Modric. The nurse turns and frowns. "Oh Sir Modric, she has had a fitfull night and her fever has worsened." Modric moves over to the bed. "Humm, let me see what I can do." he turns to you. "Sir Oskarn, if you will excuse me. I know you have alot to do. Padme will see you to the door. Good luck to you! We are counting on you."

 

[Ciaran]

“After gazing upon her divine countenance,” says Oskarn staunchly, “no barrier, nor monster nor army, shall obstruct my progress! When you see me again, I shall hold her salvation in my hands!” With a sweeping bow and one last, passionate glance at the girl and her opulent surroundings, Oskarn turns and departs the manse.

Visiting the merchant’s quarter, Oskarn purchases an ornate rapier of quality (+2 Sword, +1 Gold) and a colorful cloak of legendary Cathayan ironsilk, its weave said to be of such strength as to turn aside steel blades (+1 shield). He also procures a good horse and a significant quantity of food and wine to last him through his journey. Once done with this commerce, he sets forth from the city gates onto the Caravan Road, his mind filled with visions of wealth and power.

 

[Yellow Sign]

Just out of town you encounter a young man with a long face, pointed nose, and blonde hair. He is dressed in rich stylish clothing, rides a pure white riding horse and wears a glided rapier at his side. Standing next to him is a large brutish thug in leather armor and carrying a cocked crossbow.
The young man looks you up and down. A barely consealed smirk on his face. "Oh man, I require a moment of your time. I have a few questions that need answering."

 

[Ciaran]

Oskarn lifts his chin into the air. "I am no one's man, sir, least of all yours. I am Oskarn, styled the Traveler, and I go now upon a mission of great import. Your rudeness offends me, and I expect an apology in short order. Then, perhaps, we may proceed to your enquiries."

(By the way, I'm having great fun with your game thus far. You haven't read Jack Vance, have you?)

 

[Yellow Sign]

"Your mission is what I wish to know about. You were seen entering the Bloombald household with that crazy old man Modric. Yesterday, you slept in the common room of the inn and today you buy several expensive items from the merchants of this town. I want to know what you are up to! Answer quickly for I am Herr Thoric Grunwald, son of Tavistal's leading citizen Herr Rhaul Grunwald. As for a apology, I have none for a vagabond such as yourself." With that the thug raises his crossbow in your direction. A wide smile plays across Thoric's face.


Thug
CR:2
Hits:2(3)
Expert of the Southern Cross
Yen Factor: 0
Leather Armor(+1 hits)

(the thug is not attacking but watching what you are going to do. the road enters a thick stand of trees about 100 yards ahead of you. thanks for the vote of confidence. i am having alot of fun to. yes i have read jack vance but it has been ages ago)

 

[Ciaran]

"Ah, Herr Grunwald!" says Oskarn. "You wound me; I am no vagabond, merely a traveling expert of many trades. Amongst my skills, I have had some training in chirurgy, and upon hearing of the plight of Herr Bloombald's daughter, I wasted no time in offering my considerable herbal lore to supplement Modric's own estimable skills. Alas, while my prescription has served to alleviate her ailment in part, she nonetheless languishes still in the shadow of death. Despite this, Herr Bloombald has seen fit to reward me for my pains, and as my journey east and south to distant Serica takes me through lands infested by troublesome beasts, I have taken care to supplement my armamentarium with this blade, for the rapier is my blade of choice and I have trained my hand and eye to attain considerable skill in its use. There; all has been explained, and unless you have further questions, or offers for my not inconsiderable services, then I shall trouble you no more and pass by on this road whilst the day remains, for it wanes even as we speak. What say you?"

 

[Yellow Sign]

Herr Grunwald looks confused for a minute. He signals down to his guard, who lowers his crossbow. "Well, what is your opinion on the Frau Bloombald's chances for recovery?" says the young noble.

 

[Ciaran]

Oskarn sighs, emulating sympathy. "She will likely die," he states. "And should she survive and awaken from her slumber, it will be as a half-wit babe: drooling, incontinent, and unable to speak. It were better were she to die, but of course one cannot say such things to a doting father; better that he believe that she will recover fully from her condition."