Session 18. - The Search Continues
General Summary
2nd of Icegrip, 1440 A.P.
As The Greywarden, Gris, finished tending the wounded and disposessed of Riverrun, the party pondered their next options.
While the general consensus was to go after the sword, they hadn't had a solid clue for awhile which meant, for lack of a better option, just continuing south and hoping they'd stumble on something. This lack of direction presented several choices. Deadeye was interested in assisting Gris in hunting down the renegade druid, Bolkaer, hoping he'd provide them answers to the sword's location. The others reminded him that the druid was the crazy one they'd met in the sewers under Cìrdan and likely had nothing to do with the sword. Urith was initially on board with tracking down the druid as well -- just for closure, but after glancing at Angrar's map, he changed his mind as the northwesterly direction Gris needed them to go was opposite from what few clues they had about the sword. Suljurn was happy enough hunting down the druid just to have closure but preferred following the spectral riders, even though that meant backtracking or searching for further clues. Angrar wasn't against hunting down the druid, it was his bounty after all, but he felt that they should follow the saurial bard, Terazmisci south as she is probably is connected to the sword in some way. Oorr, as was his wont, disregarded everyone else's desires and fixated solely on his own: the riders. Rather than hunt them though, he knew with the prescient certainty of one touched by the gods that the riders were likely holed up in the abandoned village of Merritt's Rest and that's where they'd find the sword. When the others pointed out that it would take at least two days backtracking (in the wrong direction no less) to get to Merritt's Rest via road, he cheerfully suggested going upriver in a boat instead. At that point the others promptly dismissed his ideas as somewhat unhinged and refocused their efforts on more immediate and practical solutions.
Arbor had been relatively quiet to this point in the conversation. When he spoke he was very emphatic that they should finish one task before they gain a reputation of useless wastrels. The others pressed him for a decision but he waved them off and told them to give him a minute first. He then pulled something out of his pocket and muttered something under his breath. The others heard what sounded like uttering some sort of incantation or maybe it was him pleading with someone and then silence.
For the longest time, nothing seemed to happen. Arbor was somewhat dejected and was about to turn around and give the others his answer but then the temperature dropped significantly and Arbor heard a voice almost shout a question from the burned out husk of building. "Who dares summon The Leanansidhe?". As he turned towards the voice, a seemingly familiar figure, The Lady Lea, stepped out from behind the building and approached him. He identified himself as Arbor but she didn't seem to recognise him until he used his full name.
Once she recognised him as Nox, her demeanour warmed (though the air did not). She was suitably pleased that he had figured out the magic of the coin. She then turned the conversation to business and asked why Nox had summoned her. He spoke about searching for the sword and about asking for her help with some personal matters. She seemed amenable to the notion but wanted specifics: She needed to know what his question was and was curious as to the price he was willing to pay for the answer.
At first, Arbor offered his services, such as they were, to her but the vagueness of his answer displeased her and she demanded to know what his question was. He asked for information about the sword that they were searching for. The Leannansidhe smiled knowingly and demanded 10 years of service from him for the answer. Arbor agreed with little hesitation.
Once the bargain had been struck, The Leannansidhe's demeanour and tone shifted from playful to something much more formal and serious. She spoke emphatically, almost by rote.
"To find the sword, you must seek Ogham's child. They seek to compose an epic song about the blade to which this is but the first of seven verses. Should the song ever be complete, the chorus would be deafening.
After speaking, she sidled up next to Arbor and smiled, her charming demeanour fully back in place. She leaned in and whispered to him. "You're mine now darling Nox. Never forget it. Its always good to see you. A word of advice though for next time... A protective circle might be of some benefit." She casually reached out and patted him on the cheek before turning and walking off behind the same building she'd stepped out of. Where her hand touched Arbor's cheek, it burned with frozen fire.
From the party's perspective, all they saw was Arbor standing in the middle of the road. After a moment the air got glacially chilly and they could see their breath. He turned towards one of the burned out buildings and identified himself to the empty air. He then continued having a conversation with someone (or something) that they couldn't see. They heard him agree wholeheartedly to something and then a few moments later he stiffened, as if in pain. When he turned back to them, the vibrantly bright blue of his skin (the result of one of his wild magic spells gone awry) had disappeared and he was once again his natural shade of blue-green.
As the village warmed back to its regular temperature, Arbor informed them of the cryptic riddle that he'd been given. At first they were all stumped until they realized that Ogham's child referred to the saurial species. When they figured it out, they were irritated with Suljurn for not saying something sooner, to which he brusquely responded that he and Ogham weren't on good terms anymore so he didn't want to say anything. Ultimately they determined that they needed to go south and find the bard.
The party bade Gris farewell and good luck and they all mounted up and continued south. Almost immediately they were halted by the bridge over the river. The ravages of the fire had damaged it and it was in poor condition. Urith's newfound faith in Phaestos, the God of Craft, was tested when was disappointed to discover that his mighty cantrip of mending was not enough to repair the damage to the bridge. While he pondered the engineering of repairs, the others crossed in single file, leaving him for last. The bridge shuddered several times and gave them all a few nervous moments, but held to the end, a testament to its ancient construction.
Once on the southern bank, the party continued south down the road. After an hour or so, they began to hear strains of music and singing. The song was catchy and beguiling and seemed to be coming from just around the next bend in the road ahead. The first thought that they had was that they'd finally caught up with the bard, but as rounded the bend, the source of the music was revealed to be a young woman with a basket at her hip, singing as she walked down the path.
Sensing something was off, and knowing that the villagers had warned of the evil witch living in Morwen's Tower nearby, the party's danger sense overrode the sweet siren song of the woman and they paused in the road. Urith was the exception, being too wrapped up in his thoughts of bridge rebuilding, he was fully enraptured by the young woman's song and continued after her, oblivious to all.
She turned off the main road and travelled into the woods down a woodcutter's track. Urith followed mechanically and ignored the others when they called out to him. As Urith disappeared into the trees, Angrar sighed and spurred his horse after him. The others followed closely behind but not before Arbor assessed that the path Urith had taken, was in the opposite direction from the witch's tower.
Urith continued to follow the singing girl, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. Eventually the path led to a clearing with a small pond. Urith dismounted and walked forward, oblivious to the water, until a shout from Angrar behind him finally broke him from his reverie.
The song ended abruptly and discordantly with a screech, along with the image of the girl. Urith stood knee deep in the pond facing a feathered female creature with a cruel beak and hateful eyes. From the trees nearby several more creatures, harpies by their screeching, launched towards the group.
Urith earned several deep gouges as he made for more defensible terrain while Angrar and Suljurn both charged in to defend their friend. Oorr danced about, stabbing with glee as the creatures descended from the trees. Deadeye feathered several of them and Arbor summoned his favourite little lightning cloud to intermittently zap the matriarch.
Several of the other harpies tried to lull the group into submission with their songs, but in the heat of battle, it just sounded like a cacophony of screeches instead of the alluring tune they'd intended. After taking down the matriarch and several of the lesser harpies, the nerve of the remaining few broke and they attempted to escape through the forest to the west.
Urith, irritated that he'd been under the spell for so long (or perhaps embarrassed because he had been the only one), did not appreciate it when they ran. He focused his martial prowess and continued to rain arrow after arrow on them as they fled. He was certain he'd brought another one of them down but the last two had escaped.
A quick search of the ground around the pool revealed little in the way of treasure and while the party were interested in searching the nests they could see high in the trees, they were hesitant to climb up to reach them. After patching themselves up, they returned to the main road and continued south, arriving in Taveren Mill just as night fell. As they stabled their horses in the inn they were able to look back at the forest to the north and saw the grey stone spire of Morwen's Tower projecting ominously from the forest around it. Suppressing an uncontrolled shudder they entered the inn and were greeted by warm firelight and a hearty meal.
Taveren Mill was surprisingly quiet. They'd heard of the horrible trouble to the north in Riverrun, but hadn't experienced any such atrocities themselves. The inn was more abuzz with the flooding in Cìrdan than anything else. The party retired for the evening after a somewhat fruitless investigation of the locals. At least they slept knowing that the bard had been through town the day previous and had continued south to Aldergrove.
The next morning, they awoke with the dawn, although the smell of freshly baked bread and rashers of bacon likely contributed to their early rise. After a satisfyingly large breakfast, they saddled their horses and debated searching the town for more information, but quickly decided that catching up with the bard was more imperative.
They hit the road, travelling south across another stone bridge (this one in much better condition) and after about an hour or so exiting the forested canopy. At first the forest gave way to untended grasslands but soon those grasslands turned into plowed fields and farmsteads similar to those they'd seen around the capital. Around them, the fields were busy with farmhands and villagers toiling in the early sun. In the distance to the south they could see another tower ominously sitting on a hill overlooking the valley below. Chimney smoke could be seen rising from the town nestled beneath the tower.
As they headed towards town, a commotion in the fields nearby drew their attention. The farmhands started screaming as one of their number was tossed into the air by something unseen and chaos erupted. The farmers scattered and ran while the party raced forward to save them from whatever "it" was.
As they entered the fields, they saw a beast the size of a small pony erupt from the earth and pounce on a farmer. Crushing him beneath its hefty form. The group had heard stories of this creature before, a landshark or bulette, but had never seen one. They were ill prepared for its racing movement and tough hide. They were even more ill-prepared when the creature easily bit through Angrar's armour and caused him serious pain. What was worst however, was when they realized this was just a young one, and a larger creature emerged from the earth alongside it.
The fight was very intense, with the beasts nearly tearing the party to ribbons on several occasions. Angrar and Suljurn both took near deadly wounds from the creatures and Oorr too felt the razor sharp sting of their claws on more than one occasion. Thankfully, Urith and Deadeye were able to keep tabs on the beasts as they travelled underground and by focusing their attentions, they were successful at eventually bringing the beasts down.
Despite not being able to save many of the farmhands, those that remained cheered in grateful celebration. It was in the middle of this cheering, that several riders galloped onto the scene from the south. The lead rider was a middle aged, light skinned human with a neatly trimmed beard and salt and pepper hair. He was dressed in an expensive silk outfit that was marred only by the utilitarian longsword strapped hastily across his back. The other riders resembled guards and were much more heavily attired, wearing chain shirts beneath a blue tabard and carrying similar swords.
The leader approached the party and introduced himself as Davram Prestor, the Lord of Aldergrove. He assessed the carnage with a studied glance quickly directed his men to see to the wounded while he talked to the party. The Lord thanked them for dispatching the beasts that had been menacing the fields for weeks now. He expressed his gratitude and asked if their was anything that he could do for them. Before the party could answer, he answered his own question out loud. "What am I thinking. You're tired, injured and have been on the road for who knows how long. Please let me take care of you."
He pulled one of the guards aside and spoke to him quickly. After the lord was done speaking, the guard nodded, jumped on his horse and galloped off to the south. Lord Davram turned back to the party and said "Please, I know you're tired. I invite you to the hospitality of my humble domain. I've sent my man to arrange rooms for you at The Alder Arms. Enjoy them at my behest and when you are rested, perhaps we can speak again. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to see to my people." With that he turned from the group and went to assist his men with the cleanup, paying no mind to the muck and blood that was getting on his attire.
The party, exhausted as they were, could do nothing to withstand the Lord's force of will and just nodded in agreement to his wishes. They set off to the inn he had mentioned and when they arrived were quickly ushered into the finest inn they'd seen since leaving Aran Dhabar. As they settled into their rooms and ordered food, they collectively thought that they could easily get used to living like this...
Character(s) interacted with
- Gris, The Greywarden
- Leanansidhe
- Davram Prestor, Lord of Aldergrove
Notes
Contact the GM privately via messenger prior to next game for your xp reward.
This offer has now expired
FNORD!
Deadeye Cliffhanger
Oorr Rosetta del Hilltopple
Rogue 4
Sorcerer 1
10
18
12
8
12
16
Urith Thane
Suljurn sah-Ghad
Arbor Nox
