ooc: Feel free to continue such questions in the IC OOC

Day 3

The caravan set out from Westburn, following the Burn River until it reached the village of Abbeyvale late the next day and stopping, once more, to rest. A small village of a few hundred, it was notable only for its eponymous abbey to Delleb, god of sages and study.

This would have been a good place to learn to read - however, the caravan moved on. Further from Westburn the communities came further apart, so it was another five days before the caravan reached the small village of Burn.

Day 8

Burn was even smaller than Abbeyvale, with perhaps half the population - many of whom were bakers, and the various pies and pastries they had to offer were a welcome repast for those who'd been on the road for a week now. For James, Jonny, Ken, and Richard, this was quite the change of pace, the endless walking. Feet were sore. Very sore.

Still, there was no custom to be had here - none that would travel well - so the Caravan pressed on, early in the morning.

Day 12

Tumblebrook was the next stop - smaller than Westburn had been, but a good deal larger than Abbeyvale or Burn, a town rather than a village, sitting on the edge of a lightly wooded area, on the bank of a small lake known as the Long Pond. Local rumor had it that the crystal waters of the Long Pond had therapeutic value - and so it was that the caravan decided to wait a day. Not for the waters, but to buy and sell from the large transient population that gathered for the so-called healing properties of the water.

But only for a single day.

"Well it's about time we had a hot springs episode with some fan service, right?  Otherwise the ratings will drop."

Simon wet a cloth with some of his precious water and wiped at his face and hands, the road dust turning into muddy smears as he pushed it around.  "My brother would have died from dirt related stress already, I'm so glad I didn't develop his mysophobia."  He studied his nails and sighed, vowing to spend some time on his hygiene and appearance that evening no matter what other enticements there were.  "I think it's a quiet night for me after a soak in that magic pond, or if that's not available, a bath.  You guys have plans?"

Aside from a trip to the abbey in Abbeyvale, Ken's days had been mostly unremarkable. He was trying to get a handle on the strange magical impulses that only seemed to manifest in life or death situations, but he had not made any discernable progress at all. What's more, this was only when he had energy after a long day on the road, which was rare.

There was some small consolation in the fact that he could no longer really be called overweight. The "Oerth" diet since they arrived, especially their early stint on pine nuts and other foraged goods and their recent long days walking the road had combined to melt away the pounds, and while was not especially healthy looking yet, he was far more in shape than he had been.

Tumblebrook saw him seeming to share Simon's idea of checking out the healing properties of the local waters. "I'm in. Seems like it might be a little crowded, but maybe there is something to it? Besides, my feet are throbbing. Would be good to give them a rest for a bit."

"Still looking for a book," replies James, not really comfortable fitting into a crowd.

Frank, for his part, takes every possible opportunity to relax, resting his feet and trying to make friends with Junior, his horse. Enjoying the novelty of *not riding.* "Guys, you got no idea what saddle-sore even means. For serious."

"Man who sits on his ass all day, in both the literal and equine senses, complains of inconvenience. Feel free to offer a swap, or volunteer to take a passenger so guys can rest their weary feet. Or, you know, sell the damned thing."

Jonny, as usual, was all smiles and jokes. But he was not about to pass up the opportunity of testing the properties of the Long Pond. He waited to see what the proper bathing etiquette was, though he imagined the locals didn't exactly indulge in skinny-dipping.

"I'm up for a swim. If these therapeutic properties simply remove the dirt and grime of the road, that'll be plenty good enough for me."

The locals did, in fact, engage in skinny-dipping - not all of them, but in a world without bathing suits there weren't other options. Some, of course, merely removed their hose and shoes and hiked up their skirts or tunics to wade on in up to their knees, but there seemed to be far less of a taboo against public nudity.

Or near-public sex, as they'd discovered on the road, as caravan members with... relationships... engaged in coitus with little more than their tents to shield them, and sometimes less than that. The rule of etiquette was generally "pretend not to notice." Outright staring could get you a severe beating. Expectations of privacy were very low, especially among the lower classes, somewhere around expectations of hygiene.

People just... didn't make a big deal about it.

Day 13-15

The next day the caravan left early, taking two days to reach the tiny logging hamlet on the other side of the Long Pond, Thistledale. The road was becoming more wooded now - and the guards more, well guarded.

Day 21

Without stopping for more than water for the oxen, the caravan continued on to the walled town of Newick, situated on the border of the Hool Marsh where the river Burn met the River Hool - the border between the Yeomanry and the Kingdom of Keoland. Much was made here about the dangers that lay beyond - bottomless bogs, lizardmen, and worse monsters... but the caravan's path would take it right alongside.

Day 23

Two days later the caravan reached another fortified town - Jaedrae - the edge of the Yeomanry. The road from here would run between the northern edge of the Hool Marsh and the southern expanse of the Dreadwood - nominally a part of Keoland but controlled by elves.

Day 28

Five days later the caravan reaches the curious town of Haven, one of the few places in all of the Flanaess where Half-orcs live in harmony with the other races. Except Dwarves. There are no Dwarves allowed in Haven.

Day 35

From there, rapid-fire, the caravan hit the towns of Newcombe, Waycombe and Labalna... before the long trek skirting the marsh along the Longspear trail - nearly a hundred miles without any communities, only the marsh to the south, the Dreadwood north. Ten days it takes to make the trek. The most harrowing part of the journey.

Day 45

A month and a half into the voyage the caravan finally emerges at the town Burle, in the Keolandish Viscounty of Salinmoor. Here, after the long trek through the marsh, the caravan rests an extra day. It's a small town like the others they've passed, remarkable only for the sake of not being a terrible swamp.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:26, Wed 01 May.

"Saltmarsh," Frank announced as the group settled at the inn. "As in Sinister Secret Of. DnD module set in the next town south. Caravan won't stay long, but that's a good destination for us. Bunch of smugglers faking a haunting... in a house on a cliff overlooking the sea, Simon. Level one, shouldn't be too tough, and smugglers will have good loot. Anyway, that's my suggestion."

PM

Simon shot a quick glance at Frank, "I do like a good clifftop dwelling."  He hummed to himself for a moment, clearly weighing the options.  "Can you tell us anything more about it?"  He turned to the others, interested in their opinions, but seemingly having made up his mind to investigate already.  "Is it worth looking around the town do you think?  Offer to solve the problem for the locals, start to build our brand?  Or should we just go and bring down the hammer of justice?

Day 12

Ken had no strong reactions to the nudity. While not eager to strip down, he did not leer or seem particularly shy. Perhaps some of the confidence was instilled by his general size, he was taller and more solid than most, but given the variety of people around them, all shapes, sizes and ages whatever reservation he had did not last long in the face of a good bath and much desired respite from the road.

Day 45

Frank's nerdy erudition seemed to remind Ken of something, and he snapped his fingers as he tried to remember. "Saltmarsh Is there a ghost ship in that one?" he asked uncertainly as his memory strained.

When Simon suggested a few options Ken seemed unsure. "I don't know, it's a good question. I'm half inclined to say we just go for it, no warning for them, if we already have the inside track. Wonder if they might see us coming if we start asking around town, or if they have scouts."

Something about bringing down the "hammer of justice" seemed to appeal to him.

James nods once or twice when Ken mentions a ghostly ship.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:12, Wed 01 May.

"I think so?" Frank said. "I remember the basic gist. Smugglers using the haunted house on the cliff to keep the locals at bay. I think there's an alchemist or illusionist or something involved. But the adventure hook was literally something like "you heard about this haunted house" so aside from being aware of the twist we don't have an edge that adventurers wouldn't normally have, and going right to the house isn't sequence-breaking."

He yawned. "Anyway, when we get there I'm going to get a room at the inn, find a place to stable my horse, and see if there's a local healer to patch us up because none of you have been chosen by the gods. Kind of a bummer that most priests don't have any spells or anything, but I guess that makes sense."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:48, Wed 01 May.

Richard nodded agreeably to the discussion at hand.

"Finding a healer beforehand is a wise idea. If we get injured trying to deal with smugglers we wouldn't be able to keep up with the caravan and I don't think the being on the road is a good way to convalesce. Trust me it's hard enough on the body just laying there."

Richard grimaced briefly, his hand subconsciously rubbing at his leg. The memory of the Warg's teeth were permanently etched into his mind.

"This also means that if we can't find someone, or at a reasonable price point, we shouldn't risk it. The smugglers might have goods that are worth selling off but we've only got two days after all."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:12, Wed 01 May.

"Caravan won't be stopping more than overnight, it's a small town," Frank said. "But we're almost at the East coast already... the only reason we're with the Caravan was because it'd be a safe way to travel out of the boonies and to areas where adventure opportunities are more frequent. Even if we stuck with it, there are only a few stops left before they hit Splitrock.

"I don't think it's going to get any easier than this, so I'm going to hit the haunted house, healer or no."

James doesn't say anything but does check his spear.

"I think Frank's right. We did only need the caravan to reach...civilisation...so now its time to strike out on our own. I remember the name of the Saltmarsh module but not much else, so any insights you guys have will only help. If we can use our knowledge to keep ahead of the smugglers, we might just pull this off."

Hammers and justice didn't really matter to Jonny, but coins and food and ale and getting better at adventuring very much did.

Simon rubbed his hands together in the fine tradition of nuclear power plant owners everywhere.  "Good then, unless someone objects, we have the beginnings of a plan. An inn, a good night's sleep, a priest, and an adventure. Come along Smithers, let's see the lay of the land when we get there.  It shouldn't be too hard to get directions to a cliff top house."

"Sounds good to me, going after some bandits, getting paid. If we are going to risk our necks, might as well be against some other humans" he agreed.

"But while you guys have been getting comfortable with your weapons, I feel like I haven't even scratched the surface on this fist magic stuff, and we're still unarmored." he reminded them. "I'll try to pull my weight, but don't be surprised if I can't contribute as much as some of you others right off the bat."

"It's cool, man, I don't have magic for shit but I'm ready to bleed and die for this up on the front lines. All you need is courage and a callous disregard for your own safety. Live a hero or die a coward!" He grinned. "Hey Simon, remember when that goblin was all up on me and I jumped off the side of that hill to crush it?"

"Oh yes, Frank, I think that was precisely when I decided we were buds for life."  Simon grinned, a bit wryly.  "We've depended on each other a few times to keep living.  Were you out of the cave in time to see me flying tackle the guy in armor who was waving his sword at Roger?  If we ever get some coin together, I'm going to commission a painting of that moment, in the surf.  Maybe I'll tell them it was at sunset, that would be so sweet."

In reply to Simon Roderick (msg # 74):

"I could paint it for you," comments James and lets it hang.

Simon grinned happily at James, "That sounds great, man.  Let's get to a point where sitting down with paints is something we can realistically consider.  Oh shit, do you think there are magic paints and painters?"

talking about something from home comforts James and that massivleyimproves his articulation. He answers, "Simon, I'm a pretty decent painter. Not quite good enough to be professional but, by and large, damn good for an amateur. Seems I can do magic here, but I only know one spell. Magic paints might be a thing here, but me? In that context I'm just a painter." James smile at Simon; he's starting to like the fellow.