Girard ponders the line-up against him, and does not like the odds. But what other choice is there?

"Sounds like staying on the ship is the safest option. But danger is the road-sign to adventure, and adventure leads to freedom and glory."

Turning to Francine and Desra, a grin on his face. "Come friends, I think most of our equipment has been prepared for departure, let us be off. Every minute longer we keep the Captain here puts his crew in more and more danger.  Death or Glory await us."

As Girard strides to the door, he wishes the Captain the best of luck on the return voyage.  Stepping out onto the deck, he takes a deep breath, the first of many as a free man.

The fact that Captain Trotter was so well versed in the habitat of the Greenbelt and its surrounds impressed Desra, her green eyes were wide and curious, and the tip of one of her long ears twitched anxiously as the man detailed the more.. dangerous elements about.

"Thank you Captain.  Your knowledge is like a lantern in a dark place, warding us from dangers otherwise unseen -- I'm sure such will keep us from grief on our journey." 

A thin smile tugged at the pale elf's lips, and she gave a short, graceful bow before she spun easily on one foot and tapped Girard on the shoulder.

"Well said Girard! I for one can't wait to be off this boat.  As warm and loving as the company might be, I prefer to captain my own fate."

Good to his word, Desra found her equipment prepared, and she slung her sword belt around her hips and shouldered her pack, replacing a few knives on her person from the bag before she moved to disembark from the vessel.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:21, Tue 08 Nov 2011.

Francine curtseys and thanks the captain for his information. Seeing her companions go and ready themselves to travel, she decides to run up and catch a word with them before they run off.

"While I admire both of your bravado in this endeavour. I think we should plan out the route we shall take. I would hope to avoid any unnecessary danger. We know not of this land and we would be at a disadvantage should a danger present itself. Based on the creatures he has mentioned. I believe following the river may be the best course of action. Fey present a much more dangerous threat as only magical weapons will hurt them. Between a scrag, hydra, or giant folk. I would choose the scrag."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:03, Wed 09 Nov 2011.

"Well then, safe travels, and may the wind be at your back!" Captain Girard said his farewells hastily, eager to see the trio off and make his way back up the river towards less treacherous waters.

The rest of the crew stood by while the three discussed their options. Their possessions, few as they were, had been lowered into the boat along with four days' rations each and a few good-luck charms or strips of tobacco from a few of the more friendly crewmates.

Francine's horse and cart would both have to be lowered from the ship into the water, but the current was slow and the boat close enough for the cart to be pulled to land, and for the horse to swim easily enough.

Desra smiled at the young human girl, and she lifted a hand and let two long digits trace the girl's chin for the briefest of moments--as a mother might with a child.

"Oh?  Well, the River is where you'll also find crocodiles, precious.  Do you know how a crocodile hunts?  It waits quietly for pretty, small things like you to walk by before snapping its jaws around you and taking you underwater faster than you can think.  And if not crocodiles, then bandits--and trust me, if there's bandits along the river, there will probably be more than we can handle--just the three of us."

She suppressed the urge to smirk, and she looked out at the trees and riverbank, shaking her head thoughtfully.

"No, I suggest the forest route, there are few of us, and we're traveling light.  We could make our way through the woods without attracting much attention-- and avoid most of the larger predators who hunt close to water. --If its all the same to you, I'd much prefer to avoid any bandit camps.  I didn't want to come all the way out here to make a name for myself as a murderer of destitute men."

Desra paused, and she brought a hand to rub thoughtfully at her cheek, she glanced to the young human woman, and then to the half-elf man before offering a carefree smile.

"Don't paint me sentimental just yet.  What do you say Girard?  With everything said, one road is as good as another." 

Girard ponders the options for a bit, brows furrowed in thought.

"Well, if we take the forest route, we won't encounter giants or hydras, save for the aberrant ones outside their territory.  And if we do, they'll be the runts and sickly ones that have been chased out by the regulars.  While I have no qualms of cutting my fellow man and I truly doubt they are as poor and destitute as you say, dear Desra, but wandering into a bandit ambush might not be the best of plans.  Though we might be able to negotiate out way out of it.  Fey, on the other hand, while they sound scary, it's only if you actually believe they exist.  And if they do, I doubt they could resist a swing of my blade or a shot from your gun, fair lady.

But as the Captain said, most of the large predators should be either getting ready to hibernate or are already hibernating this time of year.  So they shouldn't be much of a presence if we cut through the woods or go along the river. Sounds like the largest danger comes from bandit ambushes then.  While I don't balk at danger, there's a difference in charging the ogre and flanking it."

Girard get's a wistful look in his eyes. "John 'The Cursher' Hlavic never learned that lesson, no matter how many ogres he fought."

Refocusing, "I say we cut through the forest, take the dangers one step at a time."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:41, Thu 10 Nov 2011.

(Take us to the forest James!)

The crew crowded close around the trio, wishing them safe travels on their journey. Members of the crowd slapped Girard on the back, slipped good-luck charms into Francine's pack, gingerly patted Desra on the back, and cheered them each on.

Down below, the trio's belongings had been loaded into the tiny boat. The longship swayed gently in the river current, dangerously close to the sharp rocks below. Along with them were a pair of small crates that the captain was sending along to the trading post, filled with cloth, fishing nets and hooks, nails, rope, and other essentials for the few hunters who occasionally visited the trading post.

As the trio climbed down into the boat, the pirates continued to give their farewells. Girard jumped down first, followed by Francine's more careful descent. Desra was the last to step towards the boat's ladder. The longship suddenly buckled towards the shore, and simultaneously Desra felt a pair of hands at the small of her back, giving a sharp shove. A gentle, almost wistful voice whispered to her in broken Elven, "I'm so sorry..."

The deck spun dizzily away from her, along with the faces of the crew, replaced by the river and the sharp rocks below.

OOC: Balance, Tumble, or Jump DC 20 to dodge the rocks [8 dmg]. A roll of 10 or higher on any of those will reduce damage to [6] if she hits the rocks .

Desra waved to the few crewmen she bothered to associate with, but she was all smiles leaving the ship, she watched Girard and Francine make their way down, and she grasped at the railings as she prepared to make her descent.

The sudden jostling of the ship sent Desra's eyes wide, and her hands tried to find purchase on the railing--only to find an even pressure from two hands at her back, shoving her forward.  She made a last ditch effort to grasp at the railing..

(20:36, Today: Desra rolled 22 using 1d20+8. Acrobatics. Success!)

A wide grin blossomed over that pretty face as those fingers caught one of the belayed ropes used to lower the ship into the water.  Deftly, the elf spun 'round the length of rope, turning her green eyes up to her would-be assassin, the most taunting of smiles playing across her face.  She landed as gracefully as a cat in the boat, giving a slight, almost annoyed huff.

(20:41, Today: Desra rolled 26 using 1d20+6. Taunting smile[Bluff]. )
(20:42, Today: Desra rolled 21 using 1d20+6. Perception.)

"Really?  How inelegant.." Was the soft murmur from the elf, her eyes searching amongst those on the railing.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:41, Thu 10 Nov 2011.

Most of the crew stared down at Desna in surprise, their jaws open in amazement. To them, it seemed an incredible act of skilled acrobatics. Only one man among them didn't appear at all shocked. He was the oldest member of the crew, a hale, white-haired man with jet black eyes who went by Dale. He was standing close to where Desra had been a moment before, the line of a single tear tracing its way down his cheek.

Seeing her taunting smile, Dale nodded gently to her, and tossed down a handkerchief, something rolled up inside of it.

The captain roared new orders to his crew, stirring them all to action once more.

"We'll see you again in a month when we come back with more supplies! Good hunting and good luck! Now back to your oars, boys!"

The ship pulled off, leaving the adventurers standing on the shore, alone in a hostile land.

OOC: The handkerchief landed in the boat next to Girard. Francine's horse and cart were safely lowered to the shore as well. When I get the OK from you guys it's on to the forest!

Girard looks back at Desra with an eyebrow cocked.  "Showing off?  I can see you're very light on your feet."

Picking up the handkerchief, he calls out to Desra "Looks like you have a gift from an admirer. Either way, let us be off." He holds it aloft for her to take from him without looking at it's contents. (if it has any contents)

With that said, Girard tightens the straps to the armor over his left arm and pulls a full helm over his head, hiding his features, though still leaving his chest bare.

"Come, savage beast and foul scoundrels thirst for my swallow's blade and I'll not keep them waiting."

"Very well we shall take the forest route. it is just in my experience that the forest are not to be scoffed at. I have seen the dangers first hand. I did not account for bandits i assumed that they would be on trails that head toward the trading post no matter which path we took, but if you know where these bandits set up. I defer to your decision"

ooc> Desra gets shoved

Francine watches Desra and shakes her head at the gaudy display.

"A simple roll would have sufficed. I assume you will be tree hopping when you go into the forest".

Francine walks to her cart and horse and readies them for a long travel.
she hop in the back of the cart and take the horses' reins. She looks back to the other two and gestures the others toward the cart.

"Hop on and lets get going."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:02, Fri 11 Nov 2011.

Dusting herself off, Desra checked her bags and pulled free an oiled leather satchel, unwrapping it revealed a chain shirt fitted for an elven woman more or less her size, and she slung the protective garment over her head and began working tight the leather straps.  A smirk tugged at her lips as she looked over at Francine.

"I don't tell you how to play with your wooden sticks and smelly powder.  Perhaps you'd exercise the same courtesy towards me and my falling habits."

Chain shirt snugly in place, she double-checked her sword belt and slung her pack over her shoulders.  She was ready to go by the time the boat hit the shore, and she stepped onto the shore, relieved to be standing on solid ground for the first time in weeks.

Falling habits.  Really.  The elf mused to herself, and then eyed the handkerchief that Girard was holding, raising a slender brow.

"I don't remember having any admirers. Ah, Girard, I think there is something moving in it.."

Nodding to Francine, he gently declines her offer.  "Thank you for offering, but it has been a while since I've gotten to feel firm ground under my feet, I'll walk for a bit. don't worry, I'll keep up, though I may take you up on the offer later when I've gotten my land legs back."

Stepping off the boat onto the river bank, he looks at the bundled handkerchief. "Huh... so it is.  Well, if you don't want it, I'll give it a look see."

Girard places the bundle on the ground and with the tip of a long dagger in his armored hand, unrolls it, ready to back off or crush whatever was unveiled. It wouldn't be the first time someone had sent him a scorpion in a gift, though that was usually in conjunction with someone wanting him to throw a fight.

Girard's guess as to the handkerchief's contents was not too far off, as when he shook the handkerchief out, it revealed a furious insect!



The bright green praying mantis chirped angrily, waving a pincer into the air at Girard.

Desra blinked, and she blushed for just a moment before bringing a hand to her mouth and shaking her head, stifling her laughter.

"Oh, how precious!"

She grinned, and she moved over to Girard's side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"How adoreable.  We should keep it."

Girard looks at the chirping insect for a moment, trying to remember if there were any poisonous varieties of praying mantises.  None coming to mind, he looks at the others quizzically.  "It's kinda cute... almost want to keep'im.  But I don't have small cage, and I think Augustine might want to eat it."

Upon hearing her name, a little grey and white rat pokes her head out of Girard's pack.

Wrapping the little guy back up in the handkerchief, he gingerly puts it a leather pouch at his side.

"Well, the sun's a wasting, let get a move on!"

Their shoulders squared against the task before them, the trio of adventurers entered the foreboding woods of the Stolen Lands.

The forest consists mostly of pines and firs, some growing to massive heights. Beeches are also common, as are elm trees. The leaves are a brilliant gold and red at the moment: this high up in the mountains, the Stolen Lands are further along into autumn than the River Kingdoms were. The air is chilly and brisk, but the party's fast pace keeps them warm as they go.

You make excellent time as you travel through the woods, and soon it is dusk. Throughout your trip, you've seen nothing more dangerous than squirrels and songbirds.

OOC: Camp & watch order?

As the sun started to rise above the horizon, Francine peered from her cart while shivering a bit with a blanket on her. She sighed in relief as the sun rose from the horizon. Doing one last sweep of the forest. She gently climb down from the cart and went toward the middle of camp and hit her bell loud enough to awaken her companions but not enough to startle them.

While singing
"morning comes to say, Time to greet the day, Time to earn your pay, food is on its way"

as they started to wake. she gathers some broken twigs and leaves to start up the morning fire. She give give some hard flick on the flint and steel and the fire starts to burn. She then starts to cook.

Craft food check + 3 wis modifier. result is 18

Francine gently stir the pot as the morning stew. She add couple spices. and cooks it well to the right temperature and consistency. he warms the stale hard bread as best as she can to soften it to reasonable level. The smell emanating from the pot is like a fine soup from the local tavern. You can make out each ingredient just from the smell. She pours them into bowls and hand them to her companions.

"It is not my best but it will do. It is recipe my father concocted for all the days we traveled. Made eating on the road a more enjoyable experience."

She curtseys

"I will have to take a leave of you both for a moment. I have some other task I require to be done."

she walk gingerly to her horse and give her a bag of feed. she pats it gently. and whisper "that's a good girl, I am counting on you today."

she moves the rest of her materials to the cart.

Lastly she returns to her bowl of stew. She prays before her meal.

"Desna, Goddess of Travel, grant that the travel be uneventful, weather be favorable, the path be clear. Should worst come to bear Erastil, God of hunters, grant that hand be steady, my aim be true, and my legs swift."

She then gingerly take a sip of her stew attempting to do it in the most eloquent style.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:16, Sun 13 Nov 2011.

When the first rays of sunlight fell upon the sleeping elf's face her green eyes slowly blinked themselves open.  Desra had fallen asleep against a tree, her bedroll unrolled and draped over herself like a blanket.  Her nose twitched back and forth, as did each of her long, pointed ears and finally she rose, rolling her bedroll up and replacing it in the straps along the side of her pack.

She spent the next few minutes pacing around the camp, exploring the boundaries of her sight before she moved back to the interior of the camp and found Francine eating her stew.  She looked at the pot, and then leaned over Francine's shoulder to peer at the prepared meal, a hand pulling Francine's hair from her shoulder, long fingers combing through the other's hair.

"A more enjoyable experience?  Well, I'll have to sample it then." 

The elf's green eyes turned to the girl's face, and she gave a thin smile, standing behind Francine, that hand pulling free of her hair to pour herself a bowl of stew.  She sat on the ground and began to sample the Marlin Stew, chewing on it thoughtfully as she let her sleepy green eyes wander.

Girard woke bleary eyed. He was not used to splitting up his night, but he was not one to complain. At least he was waking up somewhere with fresh air and sun, not a dank cell filled with sweaty men.

Smelling the food, he smiles at Francine.  "Thank you m'lady, but hold onto that for a bit, I have a few task I must preform before I break my fast."

Bowing to the ladies, he headed just out of sight. Upon finding a small clearing, he striped down to only a loincloth and preforms a stretching routine.  Once done, he put himself through a series of stances and exercises, a mix of attack, defense and dance maneuvers.

When he was done, he was coated in a light perspiration, limber muscles cooling in the chill Autumn morning.  He cleaned himself with a wet towel, anointed a few drops of scented oil and donned his armor.

Returning to camp, he greets the ladies, sits down and enjoys his meal, feeding morsels to Augustine and seeing if Flavius, the mantis in the pouch, would eat any as well.

"A veritable feast, lady Marlin. I thank you."

The trio feast on Marlin stew, which is agreeable to all of them, as well as Augustine the Rat, Flavius the Mantis, and perhaps even Tanya the Horse.

After finishing, the band continues traveling through the forests in a southern direction. The woods grow thicker and thicker, massive elms and oaks blocking the sun for minutes at a time in some places. Francine is the most woods-capable member of the party, but even she becomes bewildered by the heavy forest, and the party is forced to wait during a lunch break until Girard can climb a tree and report the position of the sun and the nearby mountains, after which progress continues once more. The day is warmer than the previous day, and it promises to be a cool, comfortable evening as well.

As they move deeper into the woods, deer paths become more common, and eventually they happen upon a trail with human-sized bootprints vaguely visible in the mud. The earlier delay has cost precious time, and the sky is darkening to dusk overhead. By the captain's directions and Francine's best estimate, the party is probably within an hour from Oleg's Trading Post.

OOC: Would you like to follow the tracks either further south or further north, or camp outside for another night? Francine or Girard can follow the tracks with a DC 10 Survival check (DC 5 in clear daylight), and a DC 15 survival check can locate the correct direction to the trading post. Note that making checks to following tracks commits the party to doing so even on a failed check.

Looking at the darkening sky, Girard calls a halt.

"It looks as if we are getting close to the trading post.  We can probably reach it by nightfall if we keep going, and I for one feel it is best if we reach the post tonight. I have a lamp so it won't be too dark. The risk, though is if we get lost trying to find this place.  So if you ladies wish to take our time with this and spend another night out here, I will abide by your decisions."

Girard looks at the tracks, than back at the ladies.

Desra watched as Girard as he led them into the woods. Without a word, Desra tried to illicit a response from the uptight young woman by smirking at Francine and nudging her gently with an elbow before giving a suggestive nod toward the strapping young half-elf.

(17:18, Today: Desra rolled 13 using 1d20+6. Innuendo. )


Of course, whenever Girard looked back at them, she was sure to knock off her occasional pestering of the human woman.  Finally, as Girard made his assessment, Desra was quick to agree with him

"I've no problems traveling at night.  I agree, we should make it to the outpost by nightfall, the less time we spend in the wild, the less chance we're accosted by something aggressive."

Francine shuffles slightly over from the overly flirtatious elf clearly uncomfortable with her advances. she sighs heavily and ponders would it better to be next to the over compensating male or the flirtatious woman.

She decides the best course of action is to run up to the Girard and start a conversation and attempt to ignore the elf.

So you were a gladiator. what was it like? were you nervous when you were going into battle?

Francine notices the tracks.

She grabs a lamp from her cart and lights it.
She leans down and examines them. Intending to try to decipher what may lay ahead.

ooc> She examines the footprints rolls a 19 on survival

She determines the footprint are 7-8 people and the tracks were done a week ago coming from the south heading north.

She tell her comrade the details and then places her hand to her chin and thinks if she can recall an earlier adventuring party that came by a week ago.

OOC searching her knowledge she rolls 4

She does not remember any mention of adventuring party prior to theres. but since the tracks were a week old determines that the chances of being a trap are rather low.
she cautions them

"this maybe bandit tracks. and these are heading away from oleg"

She ponders the worst situation.

"well still best to find the trading post. I agree to head out to oleg. Worst case we have a burn down camp. Best case goods and service for the next day."


They decide to follow the tracks. She places the lantern on the cart post to provide light as she tracks, while still holding her musket just in case a danger should show itself.

Survival check 23

Unfazed by the low light and the wearing of the tracks she leads them south along the tracks
This message was last edited by the player at 04:48, Wed 16 Nov 2011.