Perrato clasps his hands and nods respectfully at Villhalas and Asher in turn. "Very pleased to make your acquaintances," he says as he glances in Mal'ach's direction,"and a very fine bird you have, as well."

The cleric reaches for his gear, stops for a moment, staring at the kitchen wall as he draws a breath before saying,"Do not think me too daft, but while I am clearly prepared and committed to travel I am unsure exactly where it is that we are headed. Might someone illuminate our situation for me?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:20, Sat 09 Apr 2005.

"I will explain that as soon as you have met everyone. This diminuitive smokestake is Caylin Direbrook, he is our marksmen. Hau'dn is a new member, and I judge him fair with both blade and spell but his singing is astounding, and beside him is Asher Willbourne another newcomer, who perhaps you have met already? He is a stalwart combatant and possessed of great athletic abilities. Now you have met all of our number and so I shall answer your question. Totmacher met an individual 5 days ago that claimed to have been with a caravan that we were hired to meet here in Bordertown. The caravan is three days late and according to the man's story that is because bandits intercepted it and have been blocking trade to Bordertown," Garryn paused for a moment to let the story sink in then continued, "We are going to find the caravan, which in all likelihood means the bandits. Hopefully, this will lead to a substantial return and make travel safer for this area at the same time."

Perrato's eyes widen as he considers Garryn's words. "Que lastima...ay...yes, we should aid these unfortunate traders. Yes, yes..." The priest lifts his gear and says,"I shall collect my horse, Eco, immediately. Safe passage...very important, si, very important." He starts for the door nodding to Caylin and Hau'dn as he makes his way. "Mucho gusto, amigos. I do look forward to the trip."

This message was deleted by the player at 15:33, Sat 09 Apr 2005.

Asher will extend a parting bow to the elder acolyte as he crosses back to his mount. After a brief check of his gear, he swings up and takes a second to steady himself in the saddle.

Practicing with the reigns, he turns his mount to face the rest of the party, and waits; eager to be on the road.

Totmacher proceeds to raid the rectory's kitchen for comestibles, turning up a ham and several cold, roasted prairie hens.  Grabbing a loaf of crusty, still-warm potato bread and a bottle of wine, the half-orc has the makings of a reasonable snack.  During his foraging, the elder man walks in, smiles and nods to the party, and proceeds upstairs.  Asher, preparing to depart, bows to the man, and the older man responds in kind.

Perrato makes a beeline for the Caravanaserai, where his mount is stabled.  Paying the handful of Spokes and Drakes for feed and stabling, the Palonish priest is soon leading his mount back towards the rectory.  Upon arriving, he finds his newly-met comrades mounted and ready to ride--an extra horse in tow.  Mounting up, Perrato joins the party as they set out for Borderton's town gates.  The older man, having reemerged from the rectory, lifts his hand in a silent farewell and benediction.

The guards at the gate wave the party through, although their eyes linger on the big half-orc.  The town watchmen are guarding the gate, but two others--armored and with surcoats bearing the Imperial Pegasus--are present as well.  One nods to Caylin, saying simply, "Fortune's favors, Bellitor."  The halfling nods back, replying, "Strong walls, Bellitor."

The mounted companions swing towards the east, and are faced with a long, dusty trail that winds its way along the shoulders of the Blackthorn Hills in a roughly northeasterly direction.  Other than a couple of shepherds grazing their flocks on the nearby hillsides, no signs of habitations or civilization lie ahead.  To the west and behind them, the ramparts of the Perrinth Wall loom--Paldor's border and defense against the tribes, monsters, and brigands of the Central Wilds.

To the east, the sun continues to rise in the sky, already blazing down on the dusty caravan trail.  Cicadas thrum a monotonous counterpoint to the hot silence of the sun's glare, and the wheeling choreography of the cliff swallows over the shrubby meadows near the trail provide the only observable movement.  The party begins to follow the ancient caravan route eastward, cantering their horses along this fabled path.  Small explosions of dust arise from every animal's hoof as it strikes the trail.  Distantly and faintly, the tolling of nine chimes from the Caravanaserai and Mithran shrine back in Borderton reach some of the sharper-eared party memebers.

In the hot, sleepy sunshine of the beginning of Yearscusp, the companions have left the imperial lands of Paldor for the wilds.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:49, Mon 11 Apr 2005.

Looking back on the protected walls of Borderton, Vil is somewhat surprised at the unEase-iness welling up in him.  As much time as was spent there - Borderton became like a second Home to him.  As a result, much of his recent training was oriented to the corruption and related exploits of urban life - as opposed to the raw survival skills that seem to be needed for the road ahead of them..

Shaking off his angst, Vil turns his attention Round to more immediate matters - and calls over his shoulder to Hau'dn: "Well Ranger... What do you think - will you be able to pick up Mahatmer's trail??  Or at least - a fresh set of tracks leading into the hills..?"

Fishing for his Freshly Filled Flask, Villhalas takes a long pull - and then tosses it back into the cool confines of one of his saddle Bags.

After a moment of humming an age-old travel song to himself - to calm his nerves perhaps - Vil raises a free hand to his shoulder where Mal'ach patiently waits..

V

OOC:  I gotta Bad feelin' about Traveling East you guys.  Who in the hell's idea was this anyway??
This message was last edited by the player at 04:01, Tue 12 Apr 2005.

Garryn looks back from his position in the lead to the rising cloud of dust behind them and shakes his head. I guess we aren't sneaking up on anybody, he thinks to himself as he turns his attention forward to make sure that nobody is sneaking up on them.

Life as a Public hero, and the Image the party gained from it, had a Limited appeal to the young monk. Wandering the roads seemed more in tune with the search for truth. Asher drew a deep breath, filled with the dust raised by the hoofs in front of him, as his fingers drummed a traveling rhythm on the saddle horn.

He was glad to leave behind the political Power, the merchant Corruption, And the Lies of the brothels (Asher strongly doubted that the girls that lurked about outside these places were of the Age Of Consent). Outside of the mithran rectory, the city offered Asher nothing but Confusion regarding the essence of man; there had to be more than the lure of commerce that drew people to live in a place like Borderton.

Travelling offered Asher the chance to indulge his Love of meditation and perhaps a chance for the party to act as Vigilantes; exacting their own frontier justice on the bandits who jumped the missing caravan. And for him, that was reason enough to be here.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:23, Tue 12 Apr 2005.

"So Cay, you spend your training with those fellows?" Garryn calls back to his small friend. All things considered he was glad to be out of the town. As the city faded in the background so to did Garryn's worries. He needed a break from the constant concern that Totmacher would do something stupid again, at least on the road his opportunities to foul up the works were significantly diminished. Besides out here the big muscle-head could not only take care of himself but he'd make up for being such a fantastic pain in the ass in bordertown. Garryn could already feel the tension in his shoulders easing, it was good to be on the road again.

Wobbling and jostling a bit awkwardly atop his mount, Perrato nonetheless grins at the prospect of seeing new places as he lurches forth on his journey.  "Villhalas, you speak of a Mahatmer. I imagine that this person has something to do with our current trek, no? Is he either among the bandits and the victims we will be encountering? Also, por favor, what do we know of these bandits and the recent distress they have caused?"

"Aye - he does indeed Perrato.  My apologies for not explaining this earlier.  Mahatmer is - we believe - the sole survivor of the Caravan we were to rendevous with in Borderton.  The rest of his party was apparently slaughtered enroute from Deuxchay.  From the information I was able to gather in town, it sounds as though a number of other caravans have met with similiar fate - in effect choking off the trading routes from the Perinth East."

Vil clears his throat of the rising dust and continues -

"Totmacher had the opportunity to meet up with Mahatmer before he left town.  He had mentioned that he was headed for the foothills.  Our intent is to see if we can't pick up his track - find him - and get some additional information as to what awaits us ahead."    Here Vil looks over to Hau'dn - to see if he can get a sense of how the Ranger is coming along with his initial attempts at Tracking.  "It's a long shot, I must admit.  If we're unable to locate him, We're on to Plan B.."    At this, Villhalas offers the newly arrived Cleric an enigmatic smile..

V

Totmacher sits upright, mammoth shoulders gently rocking up and down to the rhythm of his steed.  His experience at riding is quite apparent.

He reflects on the Central Wilds before he was enslaved for a second time--running with a small band of mentally unbalanced humanoids.  The bloody engagements with those that dared to challenge him--the pillaging of tribes that were deserving of Totmacher's vengeance...sounds now radiate through Totmacher's head...echoes of the soon-to-be-dead calling and yelling in utter fear and confusion, the crackling of fire, bones splintering and skulls shattering--unbridled chaos...the Wilds will have him face his past again, a past plagued with violence and pain...his mouth begins to sweat with anticipation...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:52, Wed 13 Apr 2005.

This last line catches Ashers ear. This is the second time the one called Villhalas has hinted at a stop in the Central Wilds. The thought of meeting the nescient clan of Totmacher brings with it an involuntary grimace and shudder. Asher would rather stable with the horses than share a meal with his kind. Their inchoate Wills being more akin to common instinct, and less evolved than that of a domesticated dog.

Asher finds himself hoping that the party will be set upon by brigands so that they may avoid the "family reunion".
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Wed 13 Apr 2005.

"This Plan B of which you speak, what might that entail?" asks Perrato, hoping with an suprising intensity that the ranger can pick up the trail.

"Ah yes -- Plan B..."  Villhalas begins to summarize the planning sessions the group had discussed prior to departing the Sparrow & Briar..

V

OOC:  have to run to work. sorry for the short post.  We're thinking of paying a visit to Totmacher's Clan in the Central Wilds Tom(enroute to Deuxchay).  Sounds like fun, no??  =)

I believe this is the origin of plan "B", as quoted from Villhalas in the OOC thread:

"Or... we could make for the Road to Deuxchay (recall Vil's desires to make for Rimsedge).  And perhaps, along the way, we could make a brief layover in the Central Wilds - Home to Totmacher.  Experience a bit of Half-Orc Hospitality (Appalacian Syle)..  Now *that* sounds entertaining to me."


OOC: While Asher's racial/intellectual predjudices leave him opposed to the idea, I think it would be great fun to meet Tot's mother; if for nothing else, just to get a better feel for the man who knocked up an elf and an orc.

Who's up for the sound of "dueling banjos"?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:37, Wed 13 Apr 2005.

Caylin nods in response to Garryn's question, replying, "Aye, rogue.  Th' imperial boyos are a far sight better'n th' locals fer equipment, an' fer th' skills t' use it.  Th' fella at yon gate backaways showed me a turn or two wi' settin' arrows on th' string...quick-like."

The halfling draws his pony closer to Hau'dn's horse, noticing that the ranger-bard has slowed down and is intently scanning the ground.

Hau'dn has remained silent throughout the party's introduction to Perrato and their subsequent departure from Borderton.  Since leaving the town, the ranger-bard has scanned the ground that flanks the caravan trail--occasionally dismounting to get a closer look.  The ground is hard and dusty, and more than once Hau'dn shakes his head slightly, his face morose.  Finally, the ranger-bard heaves a sigh as the party nears the one-mile mark from town.

"Too much time has passed.  I can't locate the trail for this Mahatmer.  Too many sheep on the road, too many other signs of traffic."  Hau'dn pauses.  "So I guess we go with Plan B, whatever that is."
This message was last updated by the GM at 18:22, Thu 14 Apr 2005.

"I suggest that we don't turn from our current task, let us continue along the caravan's intended course and hopefully two days ride from here we will find some sign of the caravan and can track the bandits. Is this course agreeable?" Garryn asks looking around at his companions.

"Agreed. I know little of tracking, but I know that we will find what we are meant to find. So it is Willed, so shall it be done." and with this Asher nods somewhat smugly, and falls into silent contemplation.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:23, Thu 14 Apr 2005.

Vil nods in agreement.  "Aye - sounds good Garryn.."

Jas

Perrato fourths Garryn's notion. "Ah, yes. It is best that we take the path of those afflicted and see what it is they suffer."

Noting the hazards of the terrain ahead, Vil adds sarcastically:

"Hard to imagine anyone actually getting ambushed out here, huh?..  I'll have Mal'ach sweep through the thickets of trees and gulleys along the roadside as we move forward.."

V

http://www.geocities.com/semynys/dirtroad1.jpg
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Fri 15 Apr 2005.

The day wears on--brightly sunny and increasingly hot.  The play of cool morning shadows interspersed with warm, open stretches of road later gives way to a sun that mercilessly beats from a cloudless sky.  The dust of the road bakes in the heat, stirred up by the hooves of the party's horses, only to hang in the windless air after their passage.  The cicadas steadily increase their cadence, tracking the rising temperatures.  Early summer...and the season's first truly scorching day is upon the countryside.

The caravan trail differs from the Imperial highways within Paldor.  There, small cottages could be seen in the distance as one traveled the roads, sometimes huddled together in tiny hamlets.  Flocks of goats and sheep would occasionally dot the landscape, attended by shepherds and goatherds likewise made miniscule by distance.  Travelers were not infrequent on the Imperial roads--peasants and farmers hauling produce in wagons, armed contingents of Imperial troops, the occasional noble and his retinue, and the miscellaneous wandering and itinerant were all sights that might be had within a couple of days of travel on Paldorian roads.  Not so here...here, in the wide lands east of the last Paldorian town.  The hillsides are without the worn tracks of animals led to pasture, the lowlands are without the tended fields and orchards of settled cultivation.  The ancient caravan trail is empty of movement, save for the companions and their mounts.

The mountains of Turgrad rise, snow-clad and far-off, to the north.  Mile upon mile of scrubby hill lands and shadowy ravines lie between the mountains and the party.  The dirt caravan trail, occasionally encroached upon by young hickory saplings or tough, shrubby growths of Phanarian Broom or black thornberry, winds its way through this lonely land.  The route initially follows the shoulders of the Blackthorn Hills, but eventually veers away towards the long plains lying between the Hills and the massive forests of Emnia.  At the party's pace, however, they will be within the shadow of the Blackthorn Hills for some two or three days.

Midday arrives, and the heat of the day forces the party off the road to water the horses at a small, nearby stream.  Some cottonwood trees along the stream provide shade and a welcome respite from the sun, and the party elects to rest and partake of a meal.  Talk turns to the evening, and the subject of camping, supplies, and watches.  The party looks to the guidance of Totmacher and Hau'dn for ideas about potential foes in the area, and examines their gear--hoping that their food, water, and other supplies will suffice.  The midday meal eaten and the horses watered and rested, the party sets out again on the afternoon leg of the day's journey.