Capturing trolls to question them... Dante was generally more in favor of simply killing them, but that wasn't his current job. Since things seem well in hand, he picks up Mask's reins again, giving the horse a little nudge of his heels to get her moving. The press of his leg turns her back down the bridge, to return to his customary area along the caravan.

He's getting a handle on the horse's responses, learning she can be directed without the use of the reins at all. Another lession from Sir Aberlayne would help, at this point. He'd understand more of it now than he had back in Redhaven.

He looks to confirm that nothing's changed at the back of the caravan as he rides.  Solid as it is, he'd rather have solid ground back under them all.

Lantamori considered the bat as it flew off.  That wasn't a typical interaction, but still harmless.

The shouting at the front of the caravan seemed to have tapered off.  All must be well again.  She could also see Averdante riding back from the front in no hurry.  It must have just been a customary greeting or some such exchange that happened when a caravan passed through.

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 763):

Being labeled the defacto leader of the group, at least as far as this group of guards were concerned (if only for his increased size), Farian smiled and offered a hand to the lead chain-man as he introduced himself. "Farian Raymelie, Radiant Servant of Pelor, and happy to help in times of need. We are the Leafblade Company, traveling with Master Deyna and her caravan. I know not of trolls, but it seemed you needed help, and Pelor must have seen fit that we give it this fine day. May I ask what these trolls have done?" he inquired, looking to the others for any unspoken thoughts they might have had as well.

Bruenor reins Demon in, needing a bit of extra effort anytime the war mount was denied the completion of battle.  "Whoa, Demon.  There'll be more where that came from, no doubt...  Easy, boy."  He sheaths his longsword, and pats the black horse's neck as he listens intently to the exchange with Farian.

Volsh finally relaxes as he sees the trolls faint. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just kill them? Why go through such trouble?" He says looking up at the soldiers.

The trolls are large as expected and ugly as advertised, warty, green, and stinking.  From their sinewy limbs, it's clear they are immensely strong, judging by the chains needed to hold them down.

"Aye, that was a good thing you did, threatening them with fire.  It's the one thing they all fear.  They'll charge into battle, trusting on their healing to save them, but fire will kill them properly dead.  Sergeant Grackle, at your service.  The others out of uniform are the Troll Hunters, independent scouts," one of the few Guards on the ground says, stroking his moustache to settle it.



"Much," Sergeant Grackle says.  "But some of it may have been out of fear or magic compulsion, and we're here to get the truth of the matter out of Grollock and his cronies.  If they're someone's catspaw, we'd rather get at the who's ever pulling their strings."



"That'd be far easier, and no mistake.  But Grollock's band has kept their noses clean for twenty years, and we want to know what caused them to raid that priestess' band.  Could be they got hungry, could be the priestesses were on a mission, could be someone suggested to Grollock he break the truce with us as go after citizens.  We won't know if they're dead, and we'd rather not question them on their home ground.  They were supposed to come peaceful-like, the chains being a precaution on both sides, but Grollock damn near went berserk when we got to the gates, so thank you kindly for your assistance."

The sergeant gives a wave and the gates ponderously swing open.  The trolls are drug through and chained to thick rings set into the stone mountain on the far side of the vast courtyard, a dozen archers with green arrows stationed between them and the rest of the place.  The Troll Hunters join the line quickly, while the Guards, including the wounded one, head inside the barracks.

Master Deyna's caravan and the Leafblade Company come next, the caravan circling and Master Deyna directing which ones are to be unloaded with the deliveries for the Fort.  Inside the huge yard you can see a few outbuildings and several doorways into the mountain itself.  As there can't possibly be enough space in the buildings for all the guards on the walls, much of the fort's infrastructure must be carved into the living rock.

Sergeant Grackle is joined by a dwarf man with a silvery beard tightly braided with iron rings.  From the trim on his uniform, he is of much higher rank.  He summons a squad of Guards to unload the indicated wagons, one of which must be the Quartermaster, as he talks to Master Deyna with some familiarity.  The dwarf speaks with Sergeant Grackle for a few moments, then dismisses him and comes over to speak with the group.

"The Leafblade Company?  Commander Brightforge.  Good work you did out there, getting Grollock down before he could start a mutiny.  You folk handle trolls before?"

"Hey, look!" Lantamori pointed out happily to the others as she rode in at the tail end of the caravan.  "They have trolls here!"

She looked to see if the others were as surprised as she was that they had trolls chained up in the courtyard.

Haazheel is part of the entering party. His mouth is shut; his senses are active.

Narthian cocks his wolf-head to the side, giving Lantimori a literal sidelong glance. "Rrrrwoof." he barks sardonically.

Volsh nodded. "Murder and intrigue, blah. Things are much simpler in the wild lands, if it tries to kill you then you kill it not much more too it." He says in a reminiscent sort of way.

Dellas looks up to Sergeant Grackle as he speaks beaming a smile at the mention of his good plan with the fire and begins to rattle off as the Sergeant attention shifted to the others

"I do so enjoy the fire. I am not afraid of fire. Did you know that? I can create balls of fire as you seen or explosions of fire. I can even create a wave of fire. Yes I seek to control fire in all it's forms. To make it dance."

He walked a little closer to the Trolls to look at them and then circled ducking beneath the chains as the guards prepared to move them

"They kinda stink you know that? And they are BIG."

Less than comfortable at the thought of being cooped up in a rock cage with several trolls -- particularly with those in charge of said trolls hadn't proven all that competant at controlling them -- Dante just shook his head when Dellas went closer for a nearly intimate inspection of the brutes. The poisoned arrows seemed quite effective, though, and he was interested in those.

With those in mind, he answered the dwarven commander's question. "Not until a few minutes ago. It doesn't look as though you'd have much problem with them, with those arrows your men used. They went down quickly once those hit them."

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 772):

Farian helps out with dragging the trolls inside (he could likely do one by himself with his enhanced size), and as soon as the literal heavy lifting was finished, he let his spell expire while niceties were exchanged. "Well met, Sergeant. I am Farian Raymelie, Sun's Ray, and proud member of the Leafblade Company. Can't say I've ever seen a troll before, much less had to try corralling one into a settlement. There's a pretty steep learning curve if I do say so!" he chuckled, turning to Lantanori quite confused before recalling she was on rear guard duty. "Yes, what are in those arrows? Perhaps we could get the recipe for our help, unless it's a proprietary blend of course," he grinned, almost literally beaming in the morning sun.

Sir Aberlayne tugged gently on her brother's collar as he tried to get closer to the trolls.  "Brother, if those trolls wake up they'll eat you whole without sauce.  That member of the Troll Hunters was lucky he didn't perish on the spot, he was thrown so hard."



Commander Brighthearth nods, looking rueful.  "Those are thallis arrows.  Ever heard of oil of taggit?  'Tis an mostly harmless poison, knocks you out without harming you, made from the nuts of the taggit tree.  And then there's the poison the dark elves, the drow use.  They coat their blades and bolts with it, and that'll keep a man asleep for hours.  They make theirs out of mushrooms and dilute spider venom.  Oil of taggit is stronger, but you have to eat it, so it's not practical for battle.  One of our alchemists made up something strong like oil of taggit, but works with bolts like drow poison.  Only trick is it's difficult to make, and for trolls you need a lot of it.  You have to soak the arrows in it for a moon to get the right potency.  They work, but Moradin's Beard they're expensive.  If you don't mind spending fifty gold an arrow, I can see what the Quartermaster can spare for Guild members in good standing."

He gestures off to the side where you can hear other horses, and the stablemaster inside (a half-elf who seems to be running the place with impeccable neatness) will show you to stalls for your mounts for the evening.

Once that is done, the Commander waves the Leafblade Company inside one of the larger double doors, which leads to the company mess hall.  The ceiling is tall and reinforced with huge beams, many bright torches (likely everburning torches, Haazheel and Dellas think, due to the lack of scorch marks on the wall) illuminate the space both against the wall and in basic chandeliers above.  A large window on the far side shows into an enormous kitchen, and from a door next to it come and go a steady stream of servers bringing out large platters of food for the hungry Guardsmen coming off-shift.

"Get yourself on the outside of some food, and I'll have one of the men show you to some barracks space where you can sleep tonight."  He waves at one of the men at a bench near the end of the nearest row of tables, a fit, middle-aged human man with a few small scars on his face, and his dark hair cut short.  "Guardsman Cray!  See these adventurers get fed - they helped us wrestle Grollock's lot in before he caused a riot."

Guardsman Cray nods to you all and gestures for you to sit down if you wish.  The end of the table has several stacks of plates on it, and a tureen of stew, a bowl of roasted root vegetables, cobs of bread, bowls of pickles, and chunks of cheese.

"Master Deyna and the rest of them should be in soon as they finish unloading," the Commander says.  "I'll speak to you again soon as you've had a chance to rest."

The Commander takes his leave, and the volume of chatter in the mess hall goes up as soon as he exits.  Most of the Guard here are human, and more are men than women, but you also see a half-dozen dwarves, at least two half-orcs, a gnome in a spattered leather apron with a pair of goggles clapped to his head, and a halfling who seems to have his end of the table in gales of laughter.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 05:09, Sun 30 Sept 2018.

If he can, Haazheel has a question for the Commander. "This poison, can it be used to have patients sleep, feeling no pain, while their wounds are being treated?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 06:33, Sun 30 Sept 2018.

Narthian's not ready to eat like a humanoid, or trade the sky for a ceiling. He wants to pad around town with Thunder, taking in the sights, sounds, and the smells! The myriad and layered aromas drifting on the breeze! It's almost too compelling and nearly overrides his elven mind. But... he does still have an elven mind. And it's aware of how people react to wolves alone around their kids and livestock. He let's out the slightest of whimpers, and resumes his elvish form by seemingly removing his dire wolf pelt cloak and hood. "Some other evening, Thunder," he says, sniffing wistfully at the now unremarkable air.

He walks into the barracks and signals to one of the servers. "I need something strong to drink to wash the foul taste of troll from my mouth, if you please. And a bowl of clean water for my companion."

Lantamori wasn't thrilled to be in such close confines as the fort.  Cities and towns were all right, but this just made her feel like she rode into a cage with the high walls and gate surrounding them.  The novelty of the trolls in the courtyard had distracted her, but as they moved around, she hoped more and more that they wouldn't be staying long.

What else was trapped inside these walls with them?

Dellas looked back towards his sister and smiled

"Oh they are harmless now besides if they decide to attack again I can burn them some more. Did you know trolls don't like fire? It's like one of the few things that hurt them."

Dellas continued to ramble on as he allowed his sister to pull him back away from the trolls.


As he and the others were lead into the barracks he looked around and then the smell of the cooking food wafted through the room and his stomach rumbled

"Oh I was hungry just before the excitement of the trolls and now doubly so. What are we having tonight?"

As he runs up to the base of the table with all the food, he licks his lips as he grabs a plate and heaps on some stew, pickles, breads and cheeses on it so high that he can barely look over it.

"I'll have to come back for the soup." he remarks as he stares back at the soup before he finds a place to sit and enjoy his meal.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 19:30, Thu 04 Oct 2018.

Commander Brighthearth pauses and nods at Haazheel's question.  "Healer Murlan has used it like that.  Some people don't care for being knocked out, no matter how badly they're hurt, but it's been used a time or two for those in dire straits.  Most of my men take care not to be hurt - dying for stupid reasons doesn't get the roads and mountains patrolled."

He'll give another nod to Haazheel and be on his way.



There are a few younger men and women, too young yet to join the Guard proper, who seem to be in charge of bringing bowls, platters, and pitchers to the table.  When asked, a bowl of water and a mug of decent ale is quickly provided.  The ale has a strong acquaintance with dwarven brews, and certainly can win the war against troll blood!



Sir Aberlayne nods at her brother.  "Fire and trolls don't get along - that I did know, or at least had heard of.  Good job you were with us, little brother."  She raises her eyebrows slightly at the sheer amount of food Dellas takes, but says nothing contrariwise.  Fire magic always did make him hungry.

She looks over at Lantamori's wariness, and nods at some of other Guard who seem to be on their last mug of ale and last bites of bread.  "You think these fellows will talk to us about Grollock and whatever else they have in here?"

When it's convenient, Haazheel is all excited. "Taggit trees! Their nuts produce a dead-to-the world sleep. Orchards of trees! No pain while being operated on! A surcease from pain when one is in continual pain as in healing, sick, things like that!"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 20:31, Thu 04 Oct 2018.

"It feels like we're trapped in here," the elf replied to Sir Aberlayne.  "How long did Master Deyna say we were staying?"

She hoped it wasn't for the night.

Narthian thanks the youths for the drink and takes a long pull at the mug of ale. "I like the feel of this place," he says, hoping to perhaps comfort Lantamori's misgivings somewhat. "Notice how the walls of this place resemble the mountains. The architect had an eye for, and appreciation of, nature's strength and power. Any stronghold, of course, is equal parts trap and bastion. It is the preparedness of its occupants that tip the scales one way or the other." He smiles, showing no sign of worry.

The information about the poison is useful, although nothing Dante's in a position to take action on immediately, unless it's buying some already made. For present, he settles for a hearty meal. The ale doesn't appeal nearly as much; he likes drinks with more subtlety.

The fortress, too, doesn't hold much appeal. Well suited for dwarves and humans, perhaps, but the air is too still for him -- and too redolent of its residents. So once he's eaten, he goes back out to the wagons for the evening. The weather's fine, and there's no reason he can't sleep atop a wagon for a few hours. He expects to stand his shift at watch out there, anyway.

Sir Aberlayne gives a small shrug.  "It'd have to be smaller then that kobold warren to feel too small for me.  Put another floor or two in here and you could get Dellas' and my entire home village and the neighboring two to boot in here.  As for our travel schedule...  We got here near sundown, and Master Deyna hasn't traveled at night yet, so overnight at the least.  I'll expect she'll be in with news once they get the caravans unloaded with what she brought and loaded up with the Firegold Citadel tribute.  At least we didn't get pulled into shifting crates and boxes."  She takes a drink of the ale, squints into the mug with a smile, and then takes a longer drink.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:55, Sat 06 Oct 2018.

Farian makes a mental note to see about picking up some poison later on, before indulging in the food with the others. It might not have been anything to write home about, but it was decent, and it was warm, and the ale helped it go down. "I like it here, even with the trolls," he nodded as the others spoke of their feelings about their current whereabouts. "I can see why you elves don't, though. This is more of a dwarven stronghold than any elven palace," he chuckled.