Alec surveyed the battlefield. He felt cold, and it wasn't just the weather. People had died, in pain and terror, for no reason other than greed and bloodlust.

And it wasn't Orcs or Giants or Goblins, nor was it the Drow. This was done by Elves, Wild Elves.

He could see the bodies, the bloodstains had washed away, so he was spared the grisly details. But the idea was enough to give him pause, for discomfort and sympathy.

Alec felt that it should do something, try to help. But it was too late for that. So he did the only the could do: he played a funeral dirge, so the victims could at least have a proper send off to their respective gods. His song would grieve for those would have no-one here to grieve for them.

As the rain drifted down and grey clouds churned, he played a long, low mournful tune that trickled around the clearing. Goodbye, goodbye.

OOC: I replied in Oswydd's post above.

I'll wait a bit more to see if others wish to post or if those who already posted wish to post more.

Amaliths catches sight of the dead, then stands silently, facing the ground, enveloped in his cloak. His face is grim, with no hint of merriment. He looks up at the sky and the rain. A few drops fall onto his cheeks, and, mingling with a single tear, fall to the ground. As he looks to his companions, he takes out his flute, and begins to play.

 OOC: I think it would be an appropriate time to tell everyone I am wearing a travel cloak- it provides me with 3 meals and 2 gallons of hot tea or water a day. It also grants me a permanent endure elements (cold) spell above my knees as long as I can draw it around myself. Just thought I better tell ya.

OOC: Moving on.  If anyone wants to post something about the wreck site, do so at the start of your thread, than put a ------ line under it to indicate the split in time and then post current events/actions/thoughts.

---------------------------------------------------------

The troubling scene of the attack on the caravan stays with you for a bit as you continue your trek to Loudwater.

The next day is quiet and slow feeling -- the skies are slate grey and a chilly rain drizzles most of the time.  But by day's end you have made good time and find a good place to camp just within the outer confines of the High Forest.  Here you'll have some cover from the trees if it rains harder.

And rain harder it does!

A downpour comes in around midnight and the loud lightning and thunder make it hard to sleep.

Worrying that lightning may hit a tree near you, you bundle up all swords and other forms of metal and leave them in what you hope will be a safe spot.  Then you head out for open ground to wait out the storm.  The horses are skitterish and hard to control.

With the coming of dawn the storm seems to ease up and by mid-day it is a thing of the past.

Unfortunately the mud and ruts in the road caused by it are still here to plague you.

Going is slow and soggy for the rest of the day.

That night you manage to warm up with another group of travellers headed north to Silverymoon.  They carry cargoes of spices and ales from the Shaar and have some dried wood for their fire.  Telling tales of what they have seen -- a dragon as yellow as wheat and creatures that are like centaurs with the bodies of lions and torsos like men's -- they make for good company.

The next day you bid them farewell and you should hit Loudwater in another day or so.

-------------------------------

Just a pause to see if anyone wants to post.  I'll continue in a day or so.

Silifrey's spirits are unahmpered by the rain (from which her scarlet cloak seems to protect her far better then one might exepct), and she makes pleasent conversation as the party rides.  "You play youyr flute beautifully, Amalith: I'm curious: Where did learn to make such music?"

"I first learned how to play the flute in the town of highmoon- the town I grew up in. When I was young I was discovered to have an affinity with music and poetry, and as I have travelled, well...let's just say I've picked up a few things."

Spydunn remains silent, as he has most of the trip, listening to the traveler’s tales. He huddles his cloak up tight trying to stay dry, but it is to no avail. Everywhere, even near the fire seems to be miserably wet. To make his spirits worse, it seems that the Moon is fully hidden from view, behind the clouds.

The rain and mud do not seem to affect Oswydd except to add a few more stains to his already mud-splattered traveling cloak.  Throughout the night and the next day, he toils through the mire without complaint, seemingly lost in thought about the forest.

”Who among us is from this area? I would like to hear more of the High Forest if anyone knows any tales associated with it.”

. . .

That evening in camp, Oswydd talks extensively with the travelers from the south.  From their talk, you glean that Oswydd knows something of the local events in the southern portion of Faerun.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:02, Tue 03 Jan 2006.

"It's been a while since I was home, but I was raised at my familly's keep outside of Silverymoon.  The High Forest is a place of myth in this land, and with good reason.  Not always bright myths, of course: In the days, not veyr long ago, when Hellgate keep was strong, demonic creatures and dark shapes prowled the night here.  That is no longer true, of course, but local legend has it that the woods and countryside are not entirely free of it's darkness.  Indeed, I have heard some say that some nameless evil still slumbers in the ruined foundations of the keep, kept imprioned, but not destroyed, by the powers of the forest.  Of coure, if you believe everything you hear ina  village in, every rock and tree in Faerun is haunted by demons, undead, and the ghosts of at least six evil sorcerers."

Alec hadn't said much on the journey so far, simply plucking his lute with a few idle practice notes, strumming out some simple tunes, practicing his spells, and generally listening to his fellow adventurers. They seemed like good people. Alec was glad to finally meet people who didn't try to kill him on sight.

I'm going to be an adventurer! Just like in the songs and tales. Fame and fortune! There'll be songs about me. I suppose I could write them myself, but that would be a bit self-promoting. Maybe I could hire someone? But how I could ensure the quality? Maybe I could write them under a pseudonym?

----

The others were talking about the High Forest. Alec thought that he should chip in.

"I heard that there's a bunch of ruined elven and dwarven cities, some fairies, some Uthgardt and Wood Elves, lizard people, a gigantic tree, and an empire of treants as well."



OOC:
If anyone's interested, Alec's bard spells are:
Detect Magic; Ghost Sound; Lullaby; Mage Hand; Prestidigitation; Dancing Lights; Cure Light Wounds; Expeditious Retreat; Sleep
And he's packing:
Scroll: Invisibility
Potion: Cure Light Wounds, x2
Potion: Pass Without Trace
Potion: Sanctuary
Wand: Summon Monster 1
Wand: Magic Missile (from the Volks)
And wearing:
Cloak of Resistance +1

Silifrey smiles, obviously getting into the storytelling, "There is truth to all those things and more.  Long ago, in what scholars call the Arcane Age, mighty evelne empires overed this land, and not a few dwarven strongholds as well.  There were mighty empires and great works everywhere in those days.  But they didn't last.  The elven kingdoms and dwarven strongholds subbombed the ravages of age, or the depredations of monstrous humanoids, and vanished.  This forest belongs to the forces of nature now: fey creatures, and treants - and to those like the Uthgardt who are their allies.  It is said that you can see the wondrous things in these woods, but you can also meet your death if the nature spirits find your reverence for the land wanting.  One of the elder Treants... I can't quite recal his name, I'm afraid - given who lengends change i've probably heard five or six different versions of it anyway - but he helped lay low Hellgate keep, and his will generally holds sway within the forest.  I'm afraid I'm not up on recent developments though.  too much time on the road."

OOC: Alec remembers he has ranks in Knowledge: History and Silver Marches local :D

Alec whips out his notepad and begins scribbling down notes. " Ooh, this is good stuff... Let's see. The big boss treant is named Turlang. He seems okay, for a, you know, tree.."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 03:36, Wed 04 Jan 2006.

Spydunn has become very embraced in Alec and Silifrey’s storytelling, listening very intently, taking in all that he can. Unfortunately, though, he does not have very much input for the conversation, not being from these parts. Not wanting to sit around like a lump on a log Spydunn interjects with tid-bits of conversation here and there. ”I have heard about the tree-folk that inhabit the woods, and no one could grace the surface of Faerun without hearing of the dreaded demons of Hell Gate Keep. Someone should do something about them, demons are a nasty bread; leave them alone long enough and they will plot to destroy the world. ”

"Or simply cause as much destruction and suffering as possible fro the shear fun of it.  Who knows, perhaps it will even be you who confronts the remaining demons there, master Moonsun."

"Yes perhaps. Though, I do not have the might nor the courage to go traipsing into a pit of fiends, just yet any how.” Spydunn continues with the conversation as he mentally drifts off a bit, pondering the thought presented by Silifrey. ”I’ve never thought of such a thing. Perhaps it is time to open my eyes if Selune wills it.”

Mondar, who's been quite silent in the last couple days, starts to pay attention to the stories told by his recent fellow companions. He rides clumsily and he smiles with eyes wide open as they start talking about slaying demons - Aye, me came all t'roug t'is way to kill some mansters! And if y'ar talking 'bout demons, it jast gats better 'n' better! - he speaks loudly, as if fearign that the others were deaf, spitting occasionally and waving with his arms in the air, making him almost fall of the horse.

Ar' ya all her' ta kill some fiends, or ya just car'bout old men in need far help? - Mondar's manners and way of interacting are not the ones of a usual civilized dwarf, though he seems quite bright and knowledgeable.

OOC: Just editing the post a bit, as I mistakenly assumed we were camping.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:45, Thu 05 Jan 2006.

"I have heard enough of demons for the time being. Let us pay a bit more attention to the forest, lest we end up as the caravan did."  Osywdd spus his horse to a trot so that he is ahead of the rest of the party, then slows to a walk as his eyes sweep over the treeline.


======================================

FROM DM:

Oswydd rides ahead and looks warily into the woods nearest the road the party is travelling on.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:40, Sun 08 Jan 2006.

"I concern myself with all manner of things that threaten teh well-being of decent folks and despoil places of great beauty, Master Sharpfist, but of course, the old Sage is my priority right at the moment."

"At any rate, Oswydd's probably right.  Best we take care not to let ourselves get off guard, or there's a thousand things around here that will quickly make us regret it."

OOC:

1.) Mondar joined the game early, but was not able to post early.  To be honest, I was not sure he was still with us.  He is, he joined the group back in Everlund, and just now expresses his thoughts to you.

2.) See my comment in the OOC thread.  I will get on later on or tomorrow (Sunday) and post in-game.  Loudwater, ho!

_{No, I don't mean a harlot in the town...filthy minds...}
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:34, Sun 08 Jan 2006.

Reply in Oswyyd's post above.

--------------------------------------------

The group moves on slowly down the road that leads into Loudwater.

If all goes well, you will get to into Loudwater just at suppertime.

Oswyyd's nerves seem a bit raised, and he is looking deeply into the woods closest to the road.

---------------------------------------------

OOC: If Oswyyd or anyone else would like to make a Spot check, feel free.  The higher the result, the more I can tell you, assuming there is anything to spot.

We'll assume the check encompasses a decent amount of space as you travel.

Amalith will make a spot check.

Amalith rolled a 13 for his spot check (1d20+1)

What's tha lad doin'? Did he spot sumt'ing? - he looks all around but seems to be constantly distracted with birds and the like - Me only sees blu an' yellow birds. He must'a be eager ta arrive civ'lazation, heh?! - he smiles and then shifts his attention to the birds that fly from one place to another.

Me hopes me didn't scare him. Me likes mansters, bat only when they'r dead. In tha futur', me will refrain of spe'king 'bout those out loud.

12:12, Today: Mondar Sharpfist rolled 6 using 1d20+3. Spot Check.

Spydunn chuckles at Moondar's statement as he scans the tree line. "Not to worry good Moondar. Speak your mind, speak your mind friend."


Spot: 15

Oswydd continues to watch the trees nearest the road, looking for anything out of the ordinary.  Days of journeying on the road can make one complacent; complacency is a good way to end up dead.


14:56, Today: Oswydd rolled 21 using 1d20+6. Spot check as we ride.

08:31, Today: Alec Schmeezle rolled 16 using 1d20. Spot.

Alec had been fiddling with his notebook, but everyone had started talking about monsters and keeping an eye out. So he glanced nervously up, peering down the road and out into the woods.