It's naturally not quite so simple.

The party has a few choices to make.  The road is very obvious, but also, fairly busy.

Groups of Orcs leave at irregular intervals, gathering in large bands to join their fellows at "the front"- a place they are not entirely certain of, although it definitely lies to the east, meaning they are going in the same direction as Olbia, at least until you reach the turnoff.

There are also caravans of supplies going out to support them.  This is mostly food, and is mostly being handled by human overseers and slaves.  Orcs do not like to do demeaning "support roles" themselves, although each caravan generally has some Orc guards.  Guarding a caravan is not demeaning work.  In fact, since guards are chosen because they are (in theory) capable warriors, and the actual work burden is very low, and you might get the opportunity to behave obnoxiously towards people, Orcs at the bottom of the social ladder enjoy being selected for guard duty.  It certainly beats fortress building.

Their are a handful of Human merchants, generally making local trips to outlying farm and vineyard villages, or Monoikos and other nearby cities.  Long distance trips are almost exclusively by sea.

There is a group headed towards Reiorum, but that's going the wrong way- northeast, but the party wants east.

Most human traveler groups, even the ones moving cargo for the Orcs, tend to welcome fellow travelers, if only to break the boredom.

You can:

Travel independently, keeping a distance from other travelers.

Hook up with the group going to Reiorum and double back eventually.

Wait for a convenient group headed east- it's a fairly frequent thing, so it's not a long wait.

Whatever you do, Mystal will be orbiting above you, but out of earshot and invisible, being a Sprite.

Greynull, a mere servitor at the moment, awaits the group's pleasure. It's just as well, because he's not apt to be listened to.

Mystal swoops about pausing to admire the occasion interesting cops of trees, cluster of clouds or watch the activities of long legged's.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:27, Tue 08 Sept 2020.

Bryon poked Druk and whispered, ’Safety in numbers?”

Druk strikes a commanding pose for a moment and appears to berate the woman with a scowl but when he is sure no one is watching he speaks quietly in a monotone -

I would think we go alone...the way we want. Take us to Moinokos and see the wizard's tavern - If you want to go with the group it will be harder I have to look right and yell and beat humans sometimes or they will see me and find me.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:24, Thu 10 Sept 2020.

Greynull nods his acceptance of events and asks Bryon Does my lady prefer to ride astride or to use the sidesaddle?

[Bold for easier reading]

Bryon nodded to her “servant” and said, ”Side saddle...for now.” She reached up for him to help her up.

Greynull drops to hands and knees so his back serves as a step for Lady Bryon.

Bryon is confused and stage whispers, ”What are you doing?”

Greynull sighs. I'm a lowly servant; you're a lady. Step on my back to mount

Druk mounts his horse and says Go slave - lead the woman - we go East.

to Greynull

Bryon was very uncomfortable with this. She climbed into the saddle. It made her feel bad about herself, and she looked sad and glum all day.

When nobody is close to the party, Greynull maneuvers his horse beside Bryon's. My Lady, thank you for your glumness, but.... I'll be thankful for being treated nicely when it's just the party—nobody else around; but, when we're around others, you're subordinate to Druk and quite superior to me, a mere servant who is to be ordered around. If you act otherwise, you imperil us. He falls back.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:23, Mon 14 Sept 2020.

Druk says nothing, his face contorted with grim self righteous attitude when he sees others and fear when they pass.

His head and shoulders turn sometimes as if he would shout at everyone to be happy but as the day goes he turns his thoughts inward, envious of the man playing the servant. Glad to be out of the city for now.

The servant trails, head humbly bowed, leading a pack horse. He has two quivers on his back; his shortbow is strapped atop the bedroll back of the saddle.

Bryon’s eyes go large, ”A ruse...” She then gave a wink of knowing and continued to ride.

She looked up and said  ”I wonder where our lovely Fairie friend went off too.”

From her vantage point Mystal watched the long leggeds curious behaviour. Wondering what they would do next. Images of them attempting to coax a horse to climb a tree or even enticing the odious half giant to heft one accross it's shoulders and carry the unfortunate equine back to Massilia
This message was last edited by the player at 10:35, Wed 16 Sept 2020.

They take the direct route.  East, along the Via Aurelia, which is convenient because it means the title of the thread can stay the same.

One good thing about the province around Massilia:  the weather is almost always wonderful.  The Gaulish of the Mare Mediterraneum never sees the snowy winters of the north, and avoids the scorching temperatures of the south shore of the sea.  Sometimes it rains, but it seems like just enough to keep the crops going- the hillsides are gold as much as they are green.

Good weather for Orcs too, they rarely have to delay their campaigns due to mud and snow.  The road east shows signs of many Orcs, having recently passed.

The group is on the road several hours, and they reach a turnoff- the road ahead goes into Aquae Sextai, a significant town, a sort of "sister city" to Massilia, though with a much smaller Orc garrison.  There is a bypass to the East, which is a more direct way to reach the main part of the Via Aurelianorum.  It's quicker, but not used nearly so much, except by Orcs.  Most Humans take the extra time to stop in Aquae Sextiae.

Bryon turned her horse toward Aquea.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:43, Thu 17 Sept 2020.

Druk would have continued but seeing Byron choose his face relaxes a bit.

Are you upset?

He asks as they go.

Greynull has been bringing up the rear. Seeing those he serves in conversation, he lods up until they decide what to do.

Bryon shook her head, ”No, I just miss my friends. Gondioque especially. We would braid each other’s hair and talk about boys. She was the nicest Princess I’ve ever met.”

For centuries Aquae Sextiae got every official favor from the Romans over its sister city to the South.  Massilia was always "too Greek" for Imperial tastes, and so official functions of government were shunted over to the more comfortably Roman Aquae Sextiae.  It didn't help.  The city never managed to achieve the success or prosperity of Massilia.

Perhaps this was because it was full of government functions.

Whatever the case, when the Goths showed up, they treated Aquae Sextiae with disdain, and then apathy.  Massilia had wealth, Massilia had merchants to tax, and a port, and those big temples, and...  Aquae Sextiae had Imperial Offices.  How boring and useless.  Good for some quick plunder, that was about it.

And so while they occupied Massilia, Aquae Sextiae was good only for abuse.

The city is mostly ruin.  Buildings are toppled, columns lying like marble logs on the ground.

The people have made no real effort to rebuild.  What good would it do them, if it only tempts another round of destruction from the nearby Orcs?

The inn is an old Prefecture building still standing in the heart of town, at the crossroads.  Now the hub of the town.  It doesn't look like it has anything to offer buy the most basic services.  Cheap food, a place to sleep that may or may not have mice, etc.

The people don't look happy or inviting.  It looks like they are hoping you are a not a problem for them- and they seem to be reacting to Druk as if he is in charge.

Kind of a "you can rest here, please don't rob us or kill us or anything like that".

Bryon does not know what to make of all this. She is a bit frightened, and rides slowly. This trip is turning out badly, she misses her friends and no one seems happy to see them.

Greynull rides up by Bryon and mutters And how many princesses have you met? He adds But she is nice; she doesn't exactly treat one as an equal, but she does make one feel a person of worth. Now, look that way; show some pride.

Hooded, his eyes scan from left to right, and occasionally he looks behind him.

 Mystal continues circling the Half giant and it's vassels.

Bryon began to try and recall all the princess she had ever met. She knew she had met at least three...or maybe two. She did not answer as there seemed to be a lot of people who didn’t want them here. She smiled, ”Greetings, we are travelers and we need shelter. WE can pay for such a treat.”

The people here seem slightly puzzled that the Orc didn't tell her to speak, or at least signal permission to.

Once upon a time, Romans made it law that towns, even villages at road junctions would provide taverns for travelers.  The Goths have no idea.  They don't care.  But the Human merchants and other travelers demand that the tradition be kept, and like Bryon they are willing to pay for it.  Even where their masters abandoned their properties and left, the servants left behind took up the role of tavern keeper.

Here, due to the near presence of a great many Orcs, with a little reluctance.

The only one to answer Bryon's request is a young boy.

"It's okay with him, is it?" he asks, nodding towards Druk.  "We have no treats.  Those are only for holidays.  But there's water and wine, and soup and bread and a place to sleep.  That's all.  They take coins, or they take trade, whatever you have."

"Preferably trade," an older woman says, emboldened by the child.  "You can't eat coin, but you can rob it, and where does that get us, right?"

ugh I thought I posted - sorry

Bah! wine and meat now

the rest you can give them

Druk spits out and he dismounts and follows the boy throwing a smack to the back of his head.

Bryon looked at Greynull, twisting her fingers with worry. She asked him, ”What do we have to trade?”

Greynull reaches inside his cloak and brings out something hidden in the sleeve of his cloak. He hands it to Bryon. She feels round hard things within.

[In an earlier thread, I had Gondioque hand Greynull plenty of coin.]

This is exactly the behavior the people here expect.  Of course Orcs are nasty, they all are.

And they are poor, but not stupid- every roadside inn keeps a little something on hand for those rare occasions when an Orc simply demands it.  No one wants to face the wrath of an angry Orc.

Fortunately, they also know that Orcs are utterly unfamiliar with cuisine, and will happily eat virtually any meat, in any condition.  Nothing has to be fancy, or even competently prepared.  (they know nothing of Druk's sort of Orc, obviously.)  So they all stash away some tough, salted meat.  Dry, chewy preserved strips, with no attempt at seasoning (why waste that on Orcs who don't appreciate it) but do satisfy Orcish hunger.  (An Orc would never complain that meat is too tough- that would lead to the other Orcs mocking him.  "You got weak teeth!")

The humans, of course, do not have to endure tough salted dried meat.

The locals provide quick, but very quiet service, watching and being attentive, but saying nothing.  Not even friendly small talk.

 ooc cha-ching Greynull's got t the readied

More meat! And gravy ,,, and pepper. And drink. I want hard drink.

Says Druk. And he appears sour and drunk and pinches a local girl till she runs away and as he drinks he mumbles to himself seemingly note interested in drink and not caring about the humans but he listens to the others those speaking their own conversations away from him.

Bryon smiled and handed over the coins (not all the coins, she has learned something), a handful of the pretty silver ones. ”There. Now we are good, yes?”

Greynull accepted whatever food was offered. He now watches with interest the reactions to Bryon's prodigality. In particular, he watches if any eyes light up with illicit greed.

The server accepts payment from Bryon, and without any reference to a menu or prices of any kind, seems to know what things cost.

To Bryon, it seems well within expectations.  Bryon is not exactly a math genius, but she has spent enough time working as a hostess for an inn to know roughly how much silver is traded for food and drink.

On the other hand, Bryon knows city prices, and experienced travelers know that city prices, with their rents and taxes and other things embedded within, and often well above country prices.  Though there is no overt greed, it's quite possible that Bryon is being charged in excess of what the locals would pay.

Figuring that out is not easy. It's hard to tell what the locals pay because the system here seems to be based on informal credit and barter.  The cash economy appears to have been shattered by too much plundering of the cash.  Someone pays for their dinner with some yards of homespun cloth, everyone seems to know instinctively how much cloth is worth soup, bread, and weak wine, and there's no coins to be taxed or stolen.

The staff is still reluctant to talk about anything in front of Druk, drunk Druk or sober Druk.  One never knows what might irritate an Orc, so the best thing is to avoid talking altogether!

You can tell that although you are the only travelers now, travelers come through frequently.  This makes sense, as the town is sitting right on the major road.

Bryon grinned and looked very proud of jerself. She the bag of money back to Greynul with a nod of thanks. She then took out her Glamour book and began looking at all the wonderful pictures for an untold number of times. It is her favorite book. She likes to make up stories about the women in it. Her little owl kept watch on the roof of the Inn...

Greynull manges to look matter-of-fact when he takes the purse. After that, he sits where his back is covered and he can see in left, front, and right.

Pleased the long legged's did not succumb  to any harmfull substances, which could have been applied to their food, Mystal partook of the available dishes.

Dinner is a very quiet, very dull affair- the locals try to avoid interaction as much as possible, and the characters don't appear to be seeking it.

Only Mystal is in a position to hear anything beyond the most banal chatter.

She catches snippets of conversation between the locals- when, of course, they are out of earshot of the travelers.

Mystal slipped beside Greynull, and quietly related her observations to the long legged.

Who impassively listens as if bored. Only a wink of the eye nearest Mystal might give the conversation away.

Mystal paused mid-sentence, she had been whispering in old Aeldar
This message was last edited by the player at 07:42, Mon 02 Nov 2020.

Greynaull mutters, turning this head as if something on that side interests him.

In reply to Greynull Nepris (msg # 45):

Mystal's ooc reaction can't be seen but is (her closed hand rises to her mouth in shock, stifling a squeek of alarm, as her eyes dart about in near panic.)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:18, Mon 02 Nov 2020.

While leafing through her book she came upon the portrait of the woman whom she still believes to be Gondioque despite her saying it wasn’t. ”OH! Look, it is the princess.” She turns the book to Greynull and pointed, ”Look, don’t you think it is the princess? I know...maybe a sister or her mother. It is so lovely. The dress is so perfect for her figure. I would love to go to a ball in that dress.” She blew a razberry, ”I wish I were at a ball right now. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Dancing with a handsome gentleman...”

Greynull bends over the book, apparently making a close inspection. Druk is your gentleman. Coyly get him, and us, out of here. Yes, a remarkable similarity; but, if she says it's not her portrait, it's not of her. Who does the book say it is of?

The book is just portraits of beautiful women in wonderful clothing. Bryon stood and closed her book, pushing back from the table and she began to walk out of the tavern.

??

OOC: Greynull asked whose name was on the portrait. The book is called “Cosmopolitan.” It is just pictures of pretty women in pretty clothes.

Because of something Greynull said, Bryon is leaving the tavern.

Mystal watches as the ling legged called Byrons exits the tavern. Quietly asking Greynull if he thinks she is upset

Greynull looks at the retreating Bryon, shrugs, and takes a drink.

(We wait for Druk?)

Druk eats himself full and looks to the others - he ignores the back and forth but can't help notice the woman leave. He lets out some gas from both ends.

"Slave..." he says to Greynull and gestures at Bryon "watch my woman that her pissing is unmolested and make sure our other animals are secure from thieves. Bring her to me in the street when she's done - I want a walk."

He stands, stretching his arms as if he owns the place and goes out to his walk.

Greyn null bows and leaves.

When he catches up to Bryon, he tries to explain. The locals know something is not adding up with us. We're weird. We need to leave. You don't have to bed Druk, who's a good fellow by the way, but the only way you can pass as a reasonable part of our company is as his doxy. Druk, himself, has to pass as a half-insane orc.

By the way, you might find him an energetic, cooperative bedmate who will be grateful.

Bryon grinned, ”You hear that Druk? The ONLY way this works is if you sleep with me. Ohhh darn.” She snapped her fingers as if to say “oh well we gotta” but really this is what she has wanted since she met Druk. She wiggled her brows, ”Wanna kiss me again?”

Finding a very safe place to rest.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:58, Thu 19 Nov 2020.

The party, especially Bryon and Druk, but possibly not Mystal, would be aware that Orcs very, very rarely desire to sleep with Humans, and consider the Human (and Elven) mythology surrounding this to be part of what makes Humans and Elves so insufferable.

From the Orc point of view:  Of course Humans and Elves would imagine that they are so beautiful that everyone else desires them.  They are THAT full of themselves.  Somehow, Gnomes and Dwarves know better.

But the average Orc would think, if faced with the possibility:  "Get a grip, Human, you are weak, you are smooth and soft like a frog, and you barely smell, who would ever want you?"

Of course it happens from time to time.  It can usually be attributed to one of several things:  An Orc with somewhat atypical tastes, a Human with atypical tastes, both, or an Orc playing into Human/Elven fears and using this as a form of punishment.  Often, alcohol is involved.

It is good that it does not happen more often, from the Orc point of view.  Half Orcs can be useful.  Often they have skills and abilities that the Orc community in general is lacking.  Or they can act as go betweens, linking Humans and Orcs when the dread Gnomish magic of "Eek!-A-Gnome-iks" makes it desirable to do so.  There is even one Orc queen who has it in her head that Half Orcs make superior leaders so she is going out of her way to create them.  But Orcs on the whole would not appreciate large numbers of degenerate semi-Orcs running around, especially if they had any of that annoying, smug Human sense of superiority.

Bryon and Druk have both observed life in Massilia- Orcs generally leave Humans alone.  Druk, in his experience, would have noted that some Humans have a sick fantasy that all other creatures must lust after them, but this just annoys Orcs.  Only Humans and Elves have those strange ideas- perhaps not coincidentally, Humans and Elves also lust after each other.    Orcs find this bizarre too.

Bryon decided right now was a good time to shut up. SHe did just that, not saying anything, which was very rare for her.

Greynull fetches the horses so the group is ready to move out.

You can couple if you want.


Druk says to Greynul and Bryon. We need a better cover story - this is silly.

What did you hear whale we were there?

Bryon shook her head, "Only Greynull saying we should leace."

Mystal knows. We are conspicuous.

Bryon heard a new word, which was always exciting. "What does Con-spik-you-us mean?"

Easily sensed. Easily noticed with little or no effort. Seen, heard, smelt.

Bryon gave a little squeak of joy, "Oh yes, I am very that..." Then she began humming to herself.

I can travel alone, separate from you. I can change my disguise to a half-Orc...a landed sailor or a farmer running away. That could help with these people.

Druk muses.

It is merely a tavern crew, though, and for the most part, though they are curious, they don't ask questions, and whatever speculations they have are merely kept for their own amusement.

What else is there to talk about other than peculiar guests?

They have ideal "Orc Quarters" for Druk, of course- in the basement.  Most Orcs prefer it.  Creatures from deep, dark, places, they have always been a little suspicious of the sun, and the entire surface world.  Even if they desire to conquer it.

For the non-Orc party, the rooms are actually quite nice.  This is like many former wealthy homes- the nobles fled when they could, carrying all the gold they could, family heirlooms, silks and gems.  But furniture?  No, that stayed, to be claimed by those left behind.  Many of the miserable little taverns across the Goth occupied lands have excellent furnishings.

Orcs naturally dislike soft beds.  Soft beds breed soft bodies, they say.

By now Bryon had forgotten where they were going. In fact this place reminded her of her last job. She it wasn't. Even as she wandered down to breakfast the next morning, she wondered what wonderful adventures awaited.

Mystal spent the night resting in a secure location, occasionally stiring she watched the townsfolks activity. When she woke in the morning she forged for a morning meal then slipped into the common room to see what the long legged's would be arranging for the day

Greynull shared the sleeping area, but not the bed. Instead, he slept in in his bedroll on the cold, hard floor. Weapons are at his side.

The dawn brings a new day, very calm, a little cloudy.

The little tavern is very quiet in the morning; they expect their Orc guest to sleep late like Orcs generally do, and don't want to wake him.

There's an addition to the crew this morning, and elderly man with a wooden leg who hobbles around with aid of a cane.  He seems adept with it, obviously this is an old injury and he's adapted.  He looks like someone who despite his condition does an awful lot of physical labor with the body parts he still has left.

A little more talkative and bolder than the others, he notes that he's never seen you pass through here before.  He mentions a few things about the route ahead, but it's clear he thinks you are going WEST, when in fact Olbia is EAST.  It just seems automatic to him that you are going west.

Speaking of automatic:  there is no choice with breakfast.  It's just breakfast.  Porridge, eggs, bread.  Breakfast, like every day.  A little bacon for Orcs.

Finishing her morning meal Mystal found a perch in  the rafters to wait for the long legged Nepris to do so as well. Perching on a topcord she watched the various long legged's activities.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 05:26, Sun 06 Dec 2020.

Greynull sits in a corner and eats methodically. He waits for Druk or Bryon to move out so he can follow.

Bryon applauded the breakfast. While it was simple it was also delicious. She gobbled it up and then sat back. She looked around at tried to learn something about this place. Her inattentiveness made this nearly impossible.

Druk eats more and glutunously takes the bacon.

Of course you haven't seen me come through here before but you have now. Sometimes humans make no sense. It's not that hard.

What other roads are come this way? - besides the one to the west. Do you have any trade?

Druk maintains the crude straightforward talk of a Raider and trader looking for opportunities.

"The other Orcs have all gone east," the old man says to Druk.  "I know the look of Orcs marching off to war.  All hungry for glory and blood, all knowing half of them will come back if they're lucky, but eager for it all the same.  You, sir, do not have that look, nor are you travelling with a troop. You are not seeking war.  You are one of those occasional Orcs with other ideas.  I don't see many of them.   But since the war is east, and they'll skin you alive if they think you are shirking your part, you must be going west.  You're some kind of merchant?"

Bryon became lost in thought again. In her head there was a grand ball ongoing in this humble Tavern. All the people stood and found dance partners. She found one as well and she began to hum the tune in her mind.

Greynull is considering whether a boat ride would be best, if passage is available.

I shirk NOTHING! Earned my glory on the Sea! I'll have you and your tongue for any more lies. Oktar says with conviction.
I go East, a coast maybe to find opportunity to kill enemies or take glory, My way. There was no ship when we left and I only need knowledge of the land routes and trade.

Druk's raised voice snapped her out of her daydream. She assessed the situation and understood on an instinctive and intellectual level what was required. Bryon is no dummy, she simply has difficulty with attention, preferring her own inner world to the one beyond her body. Now though she knew she needed to intervein, Druk did not understand what was required. "Master, please, if I may?" She waited for his acknowledgement before turning and given the other man a sweet smile. "You see we are owned, property of our master, the servant and myself." She flicked her hand at Greynull indicating him as the servant. "I am an...how should I put this...an entertainer. The sort who entertains one person audiences?" As she says this she traced the line of her bodice with a finger. "Master is very kind, much kinder than my first. He feeds me and gives me pretty clothes to wear. He takes me outside so that I can see things, but in the end I am property. We were hesitant to let this be known here because...well...I am very expensive. We did not think any here could afford me." She nodded, waiting for the other man to catch on too  what she is alluding.

The local staff goes back to their quiet, minimal interaction, standoffish ways.  No need to get an Orc excited... even if there's clearly something odd afoot.

Not our problem! 

Bryon, at least, seems safe to talk to, when there has to be talking.

"No one has enough copper here for anything like that, then," one of the waitress/cook/maids (the staff has no assigned role, they merely do what needs doing).  They say.. before the wars.. but that was a long time ago.

"The baths worked then," the older man grumbles.

The waitress continues. "Even the things that look nice.. the olive trees are owned by people in Massilia, we just work them here.  If you want to find the kind of people.. that can afford you, and you're going east, there's Monoikos."

There are mutterings of agreement.  "Monoikos!"

Monoikos is a strange town, east of Olbia.  It sits on the border between Visigoths and Ostrogoths.  To help prevent war between two rival groups of Orcs (any two groups of Orcs are rivals, really, but these are particularly powerful rivals) the kings agreed that the little town between them should belong to neither, and should be a neutral ground for meeting.  So, they handed it off to a human leader.  Now, the Prince of Monoikos has a small, wealthy, but very nervous territory.  He has parties and fun and tries to ignore the fact that he is wedged between two strong Orc kingdoms.

Druk thinks he remembers something of Monoikos -
22:12, Today: Druk rolled 15 using 1d20+5.  knowledge local.

They got wizards an magic there! he says with feigned disgust.

'course money an ships are a plus. He considers in an Orcish way as though his mind were concocting a tricky life-hack that includes getting very lucky on purpose without getting caught.

Druk the Ook would love to make a life in Monoikos - maybe open his NPC messenger service there and perhaps expand it to other places. I guy can dream.

A cringing Greynull awaits Druk's decision about what to do.

What are you looking at?
get our gear, and the animals - we go

Druk tells his manservant as he gets the last of the meat in his mouth.

Greynull bobs his head and hurries to bring animals and gear to a place most convenient to Druk.

Bryon followed along, waiting on her own horse. She was actually proud of herself, she had come up with a suitable cover that would play to all their strengths. She hummed happily and watched her companions.

Mystal circled the group as they travelled
This message was last edited by the player at 06:15, Sat 19 Dec 2020.

Greynull, slumped, brings up the rear, eyes looking right and left. Every now and then, he looks back too.

They set off in the direction of Olbia- the sooner the better, from the point of view of the inhabitants of the town.

The road is reasonably civilized, the Via Aurelia is still a vital link, and well traveled.  Usually.  A surprising number of regulars find excuses not to be on the road when the Orcs are up to strange things.

There are villages along the way, and stopping there is much like a stop in Aquae Sextiae, though with no ruins, as they there only little hamlets to begin with.  They pass in much the same manner.

After the second village, there is the turnoff to Olbia.  It is not a real road, only a  trail, as most people to go to Olbia do it by boat.   The trail goes through a gap in the hills, and isn't nearly as straight and level as a Roman road.

It's not even a well used trail.  In fact, there are no recent marks at all, and plants are growing in the wheel ruts.  People must go this way only rarely.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:00, Tue 22 Dec 2020.

Unless Druk objects, Greynull rides ahead about five horse lengths. He does so in scouting mode.

Druk asks Greynul: Uh..a moment please sir? Clearly behaving more Ookish,
He beckons for the ladies as well. We are now coming into Olbia...uhm...should I continue to play the Orc? What do you all think? I don't know if it frees us or limits us and - would an Orc come this way at all? Unless I am a landed pirate looking for the coast but why am I here what am I feeling?

Druk, like many an actor, is feeling a bit of crisis at his role.

Greyunull asks Are you goad enough at fighting, and willing to. If so, don't pretend anything; just be. You are form somebody important in Massilia escorting this bountiful lady. I am your servant. It's nobody business why you're arriving in Olbia. ... Oh it would do no harm to ask about points east of here, what you'd do if traveling on.

I uh... I don't hurt unless I must...I don't like to hurt. I cannot just be. If they see an Ook ... nothing goes well for an Ook.

I will continue as an Ork then, you are right. Let us find the sea

Druk steels himself to continue on with no changes.

Not so fast! Nobody sane likes to hurt, but the question is? Are you willing to do what it takes to get the mission accomplished? If you are, then act like it, a person who is on private business and is willing to do what is necessary...and enjoy it. Get out of this Ook business; you are you, not some stereotype. By the way, you're better than the average Orc, or human. You have self-control.

Druk is silent, thinking and continues to ride forward.

The sprite stays somewhere above them...

Little wings working hard...


On the ground, trudging along, at the very least there are no signs of Orcs along the so-called trail.  Nothing seems to come this way.  There are the remains of old farms ahead, and judging by the state of decay and overgrowth they have abandoned for a long time.

On a hill, there is a large, old bear, looking kind of worn and mangy.  The sort of bear that has been through many fights and, if not victorious, has at the very least been a survivor each time.  Its nose picks up the presence of the party, and it sniffs the air expectantly.  It seems hesitant, but curious.  Of course, the need for food is a strong drive.  It walks slowly, cautiously, on an intercept course.

Mystal dives coming to hower beside the long legged Nepris Teek care goodfellow; not only be threteth yon a Bear but beyond, beith a largeth pack oft wild looking Hounds.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:32, Sat 26 Dec 2020.

greynull takes aim with his shortbow and lets the ear know that she should hunt elsewhere.

20:27, Today: Greynull Nepris rolled 2 using 1d6.  Damage.

20:23, Today: Greynull Nepris rolled 17 using 1d20.  Arrow. +7 =24

Druk tries to stop the shot.

Wait wait! There is no need to attack the animals. Let them see and be seen we may convince them to leave.

If able to prevent the attack on the bear, Druk will dismount giving his reins to Greynul, he'll move ahead of the others with arms wide and show with body language to the bear that they need not be enemies but that he is confident and no easy target.
22:01, Today: Druk rolled 23 using 1d20+7.  Wild empathy

Druk is a Ranger


He’s had years of living in the urban ruins and managing even at times watching over the wild things there and the n the old farmsteads and quarries as well.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:35, Sun 27 Dec 2020.

Bryon's owl, Carl sat perched on her shoulder. They carried on a quiet conversation, oblivious to the bear or the danger it represented. "And then Scrumff decided it was time to go have baby ferrets and he left. I was sad until I found you, now I am happy again."

The owl opened one eye, "I'm sorry you were speaking? I fell asleep at 'this is my life story,' and have only just awoken."

She smiled and nodded, "Oh that is okay, I can just start again."

Carl got a 'why me?' look...

Druk is able to intercede and prevent the attack on the bear.  Which might be for the best; brown bears are big and arrows usually just make them angry.

This is something he his able to do, displaying competent rangerness.  It's not something Druk has been able to do often, as the population of wild animals within the walls of Massilia is close to zero.

People keep eating them.

But here, in the warm hills, and with the utter lack of judgement of his appearance being given by the bear, it works.  It also works because generally speaking, bears are not out looking for trouble.  Most are looking for food and will usually take the easier way out of anything.

In doing so he goes forward onto a hill near the bear, and then he sees what the sprite was talking about.

There is a pack of dogs here, about 20 of them.  Mongrels, feral descendants of escaped and abandoned dogs.  A pack of hungry dogs is much less predictable than a single bear.  Bear and dogs were on an intercept course.  Druk is able to direct bear into a different direction, but now it seems like the dogs will still run into the party unless the dogs, too change direction.

Druk considers the dogs and his longbow. He turns to the others. There are dogs coming - I don't want to hurt them either. can you make a loud noise and scare them like a wizard?

or maybe...I have some magic...

He reaches into his vest and pulls out four old used wands of different colored wood, looking carefully he selects one and swings it around trying just the right movement to make it work.

21:52, Today: Druk rolled 21 using 1d20+9.  use magic device.

Druk is able to make the wand work, and sends a shot over 400ft at a dog meandering away from him that the others can see - it will glow with an outline of yellow light.

Maybe they will get interested in that one and leave us be....

he says putting the wand away.

Bryon began to sing, "If you go out in the woods today, your surely in for a surprise. If you go out in the woods today, better go in disguise - for every bear that ever there was will be there simply because today is the day the teddybears have their picnic."

An irritated Greynull looks at the two others in disbelief. Or we could ride away he points out.

yes...good idea Druk mounts chagrined by his own showing off and silently follows Greynul's lead.

Bryon continued to sing and guided her horse to follow the others.

Dogs, fortunately, are easily distracted.  Though, perhaps, a SQUIRREL!!! would have worked even better than an image of another dog.

They are able to bypass the local threat.  A little magic, a druid, and overhead surveillance from a Sprite and mere natural threats are only an annoyance.

Eventually, their destination comes into view.  Olbia.

It's a lot like other coastal towns, except for the fort.  They get a good view as they cross the hills.  It's a roughly triangular shape, with one side facing farms, one side facing hills, and one side having a beach.  There is no port for large vessels.  At the seaward point of the triangle there is a spit of land leading out to an island.  A causeway connects it.

There is the fort, well out to sea.  You can only barely see it from here.

It's probably a good thing for the town, as it means that the local Orcs don't really live among the townspeople, just near enough to enforce their demands.

Greynul holds up to look the town, causeway and fort over. I can't swim much, but I'm wondering if the best way to get into the fort usefully is to swim of sort of wade along the causeway.

"This is nice, right Carl? Look the pretty ocean and...what is that dot waaaaaay out there?" Bryon talked to her owl.

The owl responded, " 'Tis a fort, my mistress."

She retorted, "It shouldn't be there. It is ruining my view of the ocean."

Greynul laughs once, a sound that lacks joy. It does remind me of an appendage that is embarrassingly evident.

Bryon grinned, "You are correct! It does look like a penis."

Druk moves side to side, seemingly agitated.

Maybe I should change my disguise be a poor half-Orc.

He clenches his hands worryingly.

Greynull grumbles Mystal, where are you? ... Dratted fey...grumble grumble....

Druk does indeed change his disguise. With the adjustment I his clothes and manners and applied make up he suddenly appears much more mannish. It is clear this seafaring half-Orc has probably been on land a few weeks more than he expected. He looks ready for a drink, th kind of fellow best ignored.

Let’s learn something and Meet here after sunrise to discuss

He staggers into town not caring if the others follow and he seeks out a tavern.

Greynull looks at Bryon after he absorbs Druk's departure. Looks like I'm you servant today, Ma'am. Does it please you to lead on?

Bryon shrugged, "I guess we go in and walk around?" She had never been a scout before. It made her feel important. "Maybe we find a place to sleep? Oh you know last time I did this I also found a job as a hostess. That was a really fun job."

Druk is shaking inside as he leaves the others he was just too afraid to walk into a bunch of Orcs running a prison and act like he was important with humans as his servants it was too much - maybe okay for the human towns but hard to explain and then he would have to beat them occasionally to make it convincing. After a moment his heart rate under control he feels bad for leaving abruptly but wonders it it made him look decisive....

He enters the town and starts looking around for opportunities at docks, at a tavern what jobs are there what is the town news?
Gather information get to know what’s going on in town

Good as anything. Know, though, that if you just walk around, you might be taken for a traveling whore...well, maybe courtesan bored and looking around.

Bryon laughed, "Then we better get started, I don't want to keep my admirers waiting."

Olbia isn’t like their last stop.  The town is smaller… but it was never a target.  Too far off the main road and just a fishing village, it was never considered “worth it”.  So it’s in much better shape that Aquae Sextae was.  The current population is probably larger, and more concentrated.

They seem to have come to an understanding with the local Visigoth garrison: the town feeds the garrison, the garrison keeps out of their hair.  At least, that’s an explanation for why there are no Orcs in the town.  Maybe they just don’t like fish.

They do seem to eat a lot of that, here.  The main hub of the town is the harbor, with boats, a market, and a large mostly open air tavern where fishermen relax after a day’s work. Smaller shops are arrayed about the sides, and along a couple of adjoining streets but clearly, the harbor front is the place to be.   Lots of Humans, and they seem much more lively than the last few.  Not an Orc in sight.

Except for Druk.  He draws eyes as the group approaches.

Fortunately Druk is obviously a half Orc and not interacting with the other members of the party and so brings no looks to them. Being noticed does not bother him, he makes himself innocuous and looks for a menial job.
And listens for information about the town.

Noting the Dock was the place to be, Bryon headed in that direction. As she walked she wondered what "her" sea captain was doing. She touched the fine piece of jewelry he had given her as her memories of him are very clear. Before she knew it she was at the dock. Being lost in her own thoughts she simply found a nice place to watch the boats.

Greynull trails behind. He is mounted and holding the rein of the mount Bryon dismounted from. He watched her walk, a walk that was a statement.

[stuff assumed here]

From her vantage point Mystal watched the long leggeds initiate yet another series of singular activities.

Loosing interest in the long legged's Mystal takes in the nearby buildings.

Druk finds his way into the tavern he gets a drink and looks melancholy.

ooc hohum

Druk and his human companions have arrived in Olbia, and are now at the center point of the town, the small fishing harbor area, with the outdoor restaurant at its very heart.

The Happy Pelican.

Sure, it's got an indoor area too, but that's for those times when the weather is bad.  That doesn't happen often.  Olbia enjoys the same climate as Massilia.  Nice, most of the time.

People here seem different from how they were in Aquae Sextae, or even Massilia.  Druk doesn't make them nervous.

Curious, yes. An Orc with human companions at the Happy Pelican is not a common sight.  But nothing to be shocked by.

On the other hand, maybe they are curious because you are obviously not locals.  Looking around, it is clear that most if not all of the people here are locals.  You can't pick any travelers out of the crowd.  Olbia is off the main road, so maybe merchants don't come looking for it, and they definitely have no reason to be passing through.

The party is greeted by the Pelican staff, and they slip in polite inquiries about what brings you to their overlooked, out of the way looking town.

And thinking back to your original purpose, it seems possible that the Visigoth king picked this place for his purposes precisely because no one passes through here.

Druk hangs his head in shame, no matter how good his disguise or how hard he tries he seems to be outed as not only a companion of the humans but an Orc as well. He gets beer and drinks it. No business yet, Are there any ships that stop here?

The grey servant is solicitous of his master, speaking obsequiously and kindly as if his mater has a troubled mind.

Bryon stood off at the edge of the dock, watching the ships pass. She still wondered if her Captain was doing well.

"Oh, ships, here, no!" the waiter/cook/server replies.  "It's the rocks, this isn't a good harbor for anything big.  We have fishing boats.  So the trade ships don't come here.  We have to go to other places... for stuff.  But on the bright side, the pirates aren't that much of a problem.  They did come once.  They went for the fort."

 Mystal listened to the long leggard's conversation.

Bryon stood off observing the small fishing boats and rocks. She is being whistful.

Bah...the fort then, what to they do? Is there work?

He doesn’t say the obvious, is there work for someone like me?

The fishing boats alongside the quay bob.  They are small, made of wood, and have large weighted nets.  That's a preferred fishing tactic here- float over something and drop a large weighted net straight down.  The water is fairly clear and shallow, good for these tactics.

But the fort...

"I don't think the Orc gentlemen there like it at all," the server says.  "There are only about two dozen of them, and they don't get to do much.  They don't even come into town very often.  It's a sad life if you ask me.  They just stay in the fort, and wait.  I have no idea what for.  Some say the only reason the Visigoths guard the place is so the Ostragoths don't take it from them.... and the Ostragoths would have to guard it so the Visigoths don't take it back.  They don't seem very happy."

In reply to Ben (msg # 137):

Hmmm. I’ll bet they don’t like it. Druk wonders what would make them happy...

And then he considers what’s left.

How about fishing?
He asks
Do they need any help working?

He looks out at the fishing boats wondering without meaning to be mutters
Who feeds the guards?

“Work, sir?  I don’t think they do that.  Mostly, they guard.  They never say what they are guarding against, and they never say just what it is they are guarding.  Us?  Since when would they… I mean Visigoths, you know… ever want to do anything for us.  And what are we to them, that they would want to guard us?  We are some food and some labor, no more than any Roman governor ever asked of our ancestors… perhaps less in some ways.  When they need repairs or services in their fort, they demand a work party out of us.  And we go.  But there are always taxes and demands from any ruler, right?  Is this any different?

“But that is it, we deliver food for them, and they guard, patrolling their walls and standing in their gates, day in and day out, all hours, all the time.  Now and then, they come into town, but only to drink heavily and relax, and they even pay for what they drink.  What kind of life is that?  Better out here, living life, even if it means mending fishing nets!”

A waitress offers her questions, unbidden:

“Is there a law against an Orc finding a regular job?  Do Orcs really like just… guarding… better than baking or fixing roofs?  I don’t understand them at all.”

“If you really want work, sir,” the server continues, “maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to break with the ways of your folk, and take up a trade?  There are people who would open to such a thing.  Maybe it would start something.”

It almost sounds like the pity the Orcs with their dreary lives of endless, monotonous guard duty.  Okay, scratch "almost".  Definitely.

Druk says nothing, looking dumb.


huh Druk frowns slightly and takes a drink


Of course you don't understand them - humans know nothing Druk practically grunts rudely. Then he backs off

but me - I'm only half-Orc. I can help on a boat and mend nets.

Druk starts to imagine they can take a little time and he can work - getting to know the place - maybe sail around the fort at some time and maybe see a window or some sign of the prisoner. When the guards come to town they may learn more or send the pixie to go scout the place and he can steal a boat after a week or two...all these are options he will need to talk to the others in private, he still does not want to seem like they are together.

Bryon still watched as the boats bobbed in the water.

Mystal waits for the long legged to decide what he is going to do

There is a ring of expanding chatter around Druk, radiating outwards, as he becomes the center of quiet curiosity.

It is kept private, no one wants to risk offending him, but still, they can pick up snippets.

"Half Orc?  How is that?"

"Mends nets and fishes?  Boats make Orcs sick.  I've seen it."

"But he said..."

Finally, one of the older fishermen- gnarled old weathered bronze skin man with tattoos and wrinkles so deep he'd probably be the size of a hill giant if you inflated him- decides that the curious matter of a Half Orc not afraid to fish deserves some investigation.

He pulls a chair over.

"I have a fishing boat and I can use extra hands," he says.  "Not as young as I used to be."

It's not an uncommon situation.  Fishing boats, like many other elements of the economy, rely on muscle, provided in large part by strong young men.  That is exactly the portion of the Human population most likely to be considered "trouble" by Orcs.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:22, Tue 13 Apr 2021.

Druk nods to the man. I can work. Make nets or fish a while then I’ll go. He says and follows the man.

Druk is fairly large, among the strongest of men but only above average for Orcs.  He is wearing sandals loose pantaloons with bare shins a loose blousy shirt common among sailors and his studded leather vest open to stay cool. He has a wide hat he keeps low over his eyes to reduce the brightness and glare of the sun. Especially near the beach. Mornings and evenings will be his best time to work in the darkness and twilight.

He will do the work faithfully and get to know what he can of the area for the first couple days. He asks no more about the fort. In the darkness when others sleep he will try to meet with the others and share what he learns.

Druk keeps his quarterstaff with him and a dagger hidden but his longbow is wrapped and hidden in his ruck along with his nicer clothes.

Bryon will finish day dreaming and head back to where she is suppose to meet her friends.

Druk takes to fishing while the others take up temporary residence in the local inn.

While Druk fishes, they have an easy life.  Sunny beach, good food, decent wine. The people here certainly eat better than most humans in Orc ruled areas, because Orcs don't understand seafood so well, and the Humans actually get to eat a lot of what they catch.  They raise some chickens and pigs as well- they never get to eat much of the latter, because that's something Orcs do understand.

Druk is a rarity and a celebrity.  The idea of an Orc actually pitching in and doing real work... that's uncommon.  They've never seen an Orc fish. What's more, Druk ends up taking orders from the old fisherman, and that's another thing they've never seen an Orc do.

Very odd.

As they fish, though, Druk gets a good look at the small, old fort out on the almost-island (it's connected by a narrow spit of land.)

It's a short, squat thing, with heavy exterior walls and one tower.  The garrison seems to be about fifty Orcs, of which about a dozen are actively "guarding" at a time.  The whole garrison seems to have grown quite bored and lazy, they don't look like the most alert, attentive bunch.  Morale seems iffy.  Possibly, they've heard rumors of Orcs elsewhere preparing to do far more glorious, warrior things and they are being left behind to guard a second rate outpost.  But there's no doubt they would fight fiercely if they had to... for no other reason than finally getting the opportunity to do something.

The fort is an octagonal outer structure built around an interior domed keep.  It's one of those clever forts, apparently, built with an eye to flying threats as well as those on sea and land.   It has one dock, and that dock has the remains of four burned out hulks.

Greynull appears to exist to do Bryon'[s bidding. If she doesn't require his services, he tends to the horses, including walking them.

In reply to Greynull Nepris (msg # 147):

A light breeze wafts through the town.

Greynull replies.

Bryon was happy to see Greynull, "I don't know. What are we doing now? I've forgotten."

At some point, Druk will seek out the others on the path in the dark to discuss a plan. He will tell what he has seen 50 Orcs maybe manning the fort. Possible entrances and also appeal to them.

Do you have any thoughts on how to plan about the place? Any magic to enter unnoticed?  I could maybe disguise myself as a guard but it will not work for any real interaction because they all know each other.

Bryon raises her hand. "I can use Dimension Door once per day. It can either get us all in or out. I can turn us all invisible. I can do that a hand full of times."

In reply to Greynull Nepris (msg # 149):

Mystal tisked.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:45, Tue 20 Apr 2021.

The Ook looks on with wonder.
That is great power. If we know where to find the prisoner we can use that power to get him out ... maybe onto a fishing boat?

Grey null asks Bryon, how long does this invisibility last? If it lasts an appreciable time, perhaps Mystal could fly around inside the fort to case it. Come to think of it, she could do it one part at a time, depending on how long the invisibility lasts.

In reply to Greynull Nepris (msg # 155):

Mystal rolled her eyes
This message was last edited by the player at 05:27, Wed 21 Apr 2021.

They are there. The Orcs follow them around and listen and watch maybe you will learn something. Being small and mobile is your strength.

Silence followed.

Greynull looks to Mystal. Without your scouting well, we might just as well give this up.We'd do the prisoner no good, and we three are likely to die.

In reply to Greynull Nepris (msg # 159):
This message was last edited by the player at 13:02, Tue 04 May 2021.

Bryon answered Druk, "A fishing boat? No that would smell terrible, fish after all. I am a Lady and ladies always smell nice."

Mistress Byron; wouldst Thee careth to be part of a Duo Faeri Foray; to seek out yon captive anst Liberate him.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:42, Mon 10 May 2021.

Bryon looked at Mystal, whose tiny beauty was still astounding and responded gleefully, "Oh yes! That sounds very exciting. Will I be able to fly? You are so pretty. Can I be as pretty as you?"

In reply to Bryon (msg # 163):

 Mistress Byron we each share the Fey heritage which be being pretty ast pretty we be.

Bryon nodded, "Yes of course, Mystal. Shall I make us invisible?" Then she giggled. "You sound like my mum. I miss her."

In reply to Bryon (msg # 161):

You can bring flowers if you want. Or smash them Into oil. But the only boats I see are the fishing ones.

Smiling sweetly at Druk Bryon said, "Or you could buy me some perfume."

In reply to Bryon (msg # 165):

Yes please Mistress Byron; One hath wondered, for some time, what it would like to have Invisibility casteth upon me. beams Mystal expectantlym
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Tue 01 June 2021.

Bryon casts Invisibility on both herself and Mystal.

Greynull says To the boat then, Druk? A-fishing we shall go?

In reply to Bryon (msg # 169):

Just before having the Invisibility spell cast on her, Mystal alights on Byron's shoulder that way both will know where the other is and they can whisper to each other much easier. Sitting like this Mystal is able to see if anything tries to follow them, and the way they will use when leaving.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:00, Thu 13 May 2021.

I've a feeling that this venture isn't going to progress smoothly. Perhaps we should wait a few days before effecting our rescue.

Druk nods to Greynul and takes out a fishing boat.

He does his best to actually catch fish while they wait.

Greynull follows Druk's directions, discovering he's  learning to ocean fish. Hearing Mystal, he comments If you have a qualm, it's probably better to wait. Let's hope the qualm goes away.

Bryon asked Mystral, "Do you not like being invisible?"

In reply to Bryon (msg # 175):

Whatever gave you that idea , it's as natural as being a Pixie... answered Mystal giggling at the comment.

ooc Mystal's previous post was in responce to a visit with nothing to respond to.

Bryon, "Well okay, but if anything makes you uncomfortable, please let me know."

In reply to Bryon (msg # 177):

The smell from certain brutes, bring tears to the eyes anst bother the nose. whispers Mystal.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:26, Thu 03 June 2021.

Well... Mystal prompts as she sweeps the group with a questioning glance.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:28, Thu 04 Jan.

Druk is still fishing