True to Inas' word, it takes just under two hours for the companions to make the overland trek along the semblance of a trail, through marsh and bog toward the village of Rush Hollow. The trip might have been even quicker without the burden of makeshift litters to carry the fallen, but the ranger guides the party true to minimize the amount of backtracking due to impassable marsh.

Fen, marsh and mire soon yield to a densely wooded upland swamp dominated by yawning mangrove, bald cypress, water tupelo, black gum and stunted pine trees. And, the ever-present Witches Moss: a fast growing veil which resembles spider webs that drapes over nearly every tree.

The smell of smoked fish wafts through the air and the sounds of civilization mix with the ambient noises of the swamp as Rush Hollow comes into view.

A low palisade surrounds the entire village, which consists of perhaps three score wood and thatch cottages huddled in tight clusters here or there and several sprawling platforms in the canopy above. Rush Hollow appears like it is caught in a time long past, especially when compared against the modern spectacle that is Stormhaven.

In fact, a secretive clan of elves once dwell at this spot, the tree-platforms remnants of these denizens' craft, but for unknown reasons, the elves left this spot. The village now consists mostly of humans, half-elves, halflings, and a even a few half-orc families. None of its original elven residents are around to answer the riddle of why they left in the first place and nobody seems to care much.

Whatever the case, Rush Hollow is an out-of-way village that exists both as a place for people to disappear to and more importantly, to capitalize on the excellent fishing to be had nearby. Fishermen here can make a good living crabbing and catching hammer-mouth catfish: both of which are highly sought by discriminating Stormhavian fish-mongers.

Locals eye the companions both warily and with varying degrees of interest as the group approaches. A few dogs bark here or there, but otherwise the heroes are given a wide berth, if not interested stares. It was not out of the question that Althea, one of the Chieftain's brides, had already shared news of their heroism. In a town like this, word spread quickly.

Near the center of the village, The Toothless Troubadour beckons...
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:47, Tue 20 Aug 2013.

As much as he is a child of Stormhaven, Ben felt a kindred spirit in the town of Rush Hollow, if not so much the people, at least not yet.

"Aye, look up there!" he said, gesturing to the houses in the trees. "I wonder if anyone lives in those."

Wrapping one camaraderie-filled (and muck covered) arm around Saliq, he of the much punctured foot, Ben grabbed the casters face and planted a big wet kiss on the cheek. "Maybe this time I'll get to kiss the real thing, eh?, ha ha!!!"  The victorious hero made his grand entrance, glancing about with curiosity and an eagerness born of his most recent escape from yet another near-death experience.

Exuberant and boisterous, Ben was clearly thrilled to be out of the wild swamp and into the urban swamp that was Rush Hollow...

Saliq did not appreciate the kiss (or the arm) but despite himself it was hard not to smile at the thief's good humour.

"Stranger things have happened my friend."

Turning back to the town he studied it with interest. Compared to Stormhaven or his own birthplace of Al Alayai Herat it was a tiny, ramshackle place but one infinitely preferable to the swamp and ziggurat.

Despite carrying a litter, Eagle has enjoyed the walk through the marsh, his eyes wide open, with the Witches moss of particular fascination. Though unlike his companions, his spirit visibly shrinks as they approach the village; suddenly he feels hemmed in in an inhospitable place, feeling the weight of the curious stares from the villagers. 'These are your people, right?' he asks Inas nervously, his insecurity showing through, though he raises a smile as the dishelved thief's antics with Saliq. 'Let us find a place to dispose of these bodies, and then get some rest,' he suggests to no-one in particular, assuming Inas will take the lead.

"No," Rath looks around, distracted. "No, they really haven't." Despite his light-hearted words, Rath's mouth and eyes are set grimly as he squints around the village. Reed Hollow has the look of a place where people go to not be found; and so, of course, Rath wonders if he'll run into anyone he knows.

He adjusts his grip on the litter and looks around for anything that looks like a graveyard in this swampy town, or a temple. A place dedicated to Kord, for Duvall's sake, would be too much to expect.

Norion trudges through the marsh with a grim almost angry demeanor.  Though surviving the recent battles, he can't enjoy the success carrying the dead through bug infested swamp.   At least it wasn't sunny.  When he sees Rush Hollow he is only mildly relieved,  at least the elves were gone.  He is curious to see how those treehouses are built.  But first a room and something to eat and drink.

If Inas felt any nervousness upon arriving at Rush Hollow, the ranger did not let on. His gait was relaxed, yet purposeful. It was a grim task when bearing a litter for the fallen.



"I do not hail from this village, but its people are familiar to me," he responds. "It was here where my journey began," he says, indicating the bounty which the village's chieftain promised for Althea's return.



To this, Inas explains that no Temple of Kord will be found in this village; however there is a proper Temple of Melora, where a Kordian shrine may be found.

Inas then suggests the party pay Chieftain Ondor a visit after arranging to Duvall's proper burial.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:57, Wed 21 Aug 2013.

Inas leads the party to the Temple of Melora, which consists of an well-tended brush arbor near the village center. A small fountain in a bed of silver and violet bell-shaped flowers serves as the centerpiece of the shrine. Orderly lines of split rail benches are arranged in a horseshoe formation around the fountain.

Nearby, a young acolyte prunes back a hedgerow which is beginning to encroach upon the open-air shrine. The young woman notices the party's approach, and seems especially concerned by the appearance of a litter. She hastily places her shears back into a wicker basket and advances toward the party.

"What has happened to this man?" she asks, her countenance relaying a genuine concern for the fate of Duvall. The fair-skinned, raven-haired acolyte wears the traditional garb of Melora's acolytes: home-spun dyed green wool robes, tastefully trimmed with silver embroidery.

In reply to DM Storm (msg # 8):

At the mention of a temple to Melora, Eagle cheers up immensely - his diety has been blessing him with increasing powers through his adventures, and he is pleased at the chance to be able to give her his full attention in a proper environment.

When the Acolyte approaches, he makes the sign of Melora and nods his head respectfully. 'Friend, we hail from Stormhaven, and have been on a mission to protect both the city and your village from reptilian raids. Our companion, a priest of Kord, fell during our quest, and we have also recovered the bodies of two sacrificial victims. We want to give them a proper burial.'

Clean, open, well lit; everything Ben detested, all wrapped into one place. Gak!

Still, Ben held his tongue and feigned respect.  For all that Duvall had been a value in their adventures, he had also been a sharp tongues judgmental bastard at times, and while Ben wasn't happy the man had died, he wasn't exactly mourning either.

He knew it was a time to behave though, so he did, keeping in the back, occasionally putting a hand into his satchel to stoke his rubies.

Rath stands to one side, allowing Eagle to take this one.  Rath, like the others, is filthy from swamp travel, and although he realizes that's not a rare thing in Reed Hollow, he doesn't want to add work to the acolyte by messing up the tended shrine with muddy bootprints. He breathes deeply, trying to partake in the sense of peace the place must convey to visitors, but he only feels out of place, and not entirely due to his muck-filled boots.

The acolyte, who eventually introduces herself as Jan-briel, listens to Eagle's tale while examining the deceased. Jan-briel becomes teary when she sees the two slain women: it turns out both are from this very village.

Jan-briel composes herself and confides, "We had feared the worse, but seeing it now with my own eyes..." she pauses a moment while attempting to hold back tears, "none of them deserved this..." she finally says while gently caressing one of the victim's cold hands.

The two female victims are named Ulee and Kera, both around the same age as Jan-briel. The acolyte says she will see to it that their families are notified and funeral arrangements made. Turning her attention to Duvall, "I am sorry you lost one of your own. He must have been quite brave..."

Jan-briel also offers to attend to Duvall's burial, in the traditions of Kord, with which she is passably familiar.

Norion stands in the middle of the nice garden, not his kind of place, but he does like that its orderly.  When the young lady starts tearing up though, he lowers his gaze to the ground, he takes half a step forward, then sets back.

A war goes on in his head, but he finally says, and in a voice of his home, "Mi'lady, ah know it is ov little comfert ta tha' families, but take this an' use it fer them as you mah ta assuage their grief...", he hands over a purse of coins and leaves and waits outside for the others.

[Private to DM Storm: He gives her all his gold. how will he ever get out of debt this way, silly dwarf :-)]

Jan-briel graciously accepts Norion's generous offer, though she seems quite shocked at the gesture, if only for the sheer amount of coin the dwarf readily hands. Though she makes no attempt to count it, the bulging cloth sack serves as enough of an indication as to what a boon the dwarf bestows upon the temple.

"Melora's blessings upon you, kind master," she says while tilting her head deferentially to the dwarf. "May your trek through the wild prove bountiful, indeed." The acolyte's voice is soft and soothing, a reminder of kindness within the world.

Slightly startled first by the Acolyte's obvious grief, and then the gruff dwarf's generosity, Eagle is slightly tongue-tied for a moment, sensing that none of his companions are entirely comfortable in this place of calm. After a moment, he nods to Jan-briel and bids her farewell. 'Thank you for your aid in this matter, we must now seek out the village chieftan, and some rest and recovery. For myself I will return here tomorrow to make my communion with Melora'

Unless anyone else wants to speak to the Acolyte Eagle will look to Inas to lead them to the Chieftan/Inn.

The Illusionist was not as discomforted as some of the others; though mysterious Sehanine was his much beloved patron goddess he was a pious man and respected Melora and Her servants.

That this servant was quite so fair did not huret matters either.

"Thank you for all you have done Sister." Saliq says, smiling and giving a polite dip of his head before the priestess. "It is a blessing to know there is one so kind to see these poor departed to the afterlife."

Throughout the hours traveling to Rush Hollow, bearing the dead, Rath had been also carrying a dull ache of vicarious grief and personal guilt, which showed in his eyes but which did not stop him from vigorously performing the onerous task. He had spoken little during that trip. Now, here in the village and facing the real grief of the acolyte, Rath was emotionally worn, dulled and numb.

He steps out of the shrine, joining Ironaxe, looking miserable. Rath peers up at the sky, seeking any sign of Pelor's light. If he finds it, it does not comfort him. He says to Norion, grunting, "I really want to buy you a drink. And me one too while I'm at it."

The dwarf looks a bit down, but nods to Rath, "I could use a drink, thank you, ah uh..."

He shakes his head, "Tonight, we let old ghosts be gone...fer good"

The companions finish up at the Temple of Melora, where they pay their final respects to Duvall, and continue on their way. Adventuring was a harsh business. Everyone understood the risks, though they mostly tried to not think about them too much: it was just easier that way.

That bit of unpleasant business attended to, the party proceeds through the village to locate Chieftain Ondor. A bounty awaited...and perhaps they might learn more of the flesh-eating demons. After proceeding to the chieftain's sprawling manor, which begins at ground level and proceeds into the crown of an ancient black gum tree, the group learns that Chieftain Ondor is presently at the Toothless Troubadour, along with many of the village's other major players. Apparently, a company of Lord Myron's men arrived a few hours ago, and the Chieftain is holding court with the captain there now.

Lord Myron, one of the heirs of the influential Talas line of nobility, and also subject of Ben's unending suspicion. The party received an icy welcome when they paid the Lord's Keep a visit while en route to the ancient ziggurat, and certainly his standard, a serpent on a field of jet, fueled those suspicions. What might his men be doing here now? One way to find out...

Outside the tavern, several pack mules are lined up near a line of trees, and attended to by two spirited grooms. The animals packs do not appear laden with goods, so perhaps the company has come to acquire provisions?

Inside the tavern, about 30 or so men and women are gathered about on long tables running down the center of a grand hall. Private booths are flung to either wing, some of these are occupied while others are available, should the group wish for some measure of privacy.

Lord Myron's men are readily apparent: 15 men in dyed-black leather jerkins clustered in around a central table. At one side, a dark-haired man with a hawkish nose sits, his polished chain shirt sparkling in the light. The men are enjoying some ale and pickled catfish and seem otherwise unconcerned with the heroes' appearance.

Chieftain Ondor is located not too far from the man-in-chain, Captain Rocco as it turns out, sharing a quiet conversation with a staff-wielding man in dark robes.

A bar-wench carrying four mugs of ale approaches the group at some point, "Have a seat anywhere you like. I'll be with you in two shakes of a tail..." she sasses with a wink. She quickly sashays across the floor, ale in hand, her form tantalizing the senses.

Saliq smiled dazedly at the bar wench, apparently hypnotised by her charms. It was only after she departed that he turned back to others and said very quietly: "I think I have an idea how we can eavesdrop on Myron's men if it comes to it."

Inas nodded at the bar wench and directed the group to a private table in the corner, his favourite spot in this tavern. It offered a good view of the whole room, while receiving little passing traffic from other patrons so gave some measure of privacy.

He took a seat, back against the wall as was his custom. He eyed the soldiers suspiciously. They didn't normally venture out into the little villages, save to bring trouble. Their presence could only be an ill omen. When the wench returned he spoke quietly to her. "When he is free, please tell Chief Ondor that Inas the Woodsman is here. I would speak with him when he is able." He then ordered an ale and a platter of cold cuts, bread and cheese.

When she departed he looked at his companions. Speaking in a low voice, he said, "Are these men known to you? I know little of Haven politics."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:06, Sun 25 Aug 2013.

Leaving the temple to his mistress Eagle is filled with a sense of peace and tranquility. He senses his companions grief, but for his part he knew this was just part of the great circle of Melora's spirit: just like the tree leaves fall, decompose, turn into soil and feed the tree's future leaves, Duvall's passing was just a way-marker on his own journey, and that of Eagle and the others.

However, when they enter the inn, Eagle is returned with a jolt into the sense of intrigue and danger that is part of parcel of being in large groups of armed men in rooms with alcohol. Again his tiredness hits him. Taking a seat he orders just a glass of nettle juice, and zones out as he stares at the inn's fire, oblivious and indifferent to any plotting going on among his friends.

Stepping ever forward, perhaps foot in mouth, Ben opens said mouth wide and speaks to the entire room.

"We come here seeking Chieftain Ondor; we bring news of good tiding, though perhaps not as good as the news he already received when his wife returned to him, no doubt telling him of our valiant and heroic efforts against the lizard men, which saved her from sacrifice most foul."

With a smile interrupted by a deep inhalation, as the run on sentence had been a bit of an effort to him, the little man swings his gaze back and forth amongst the crowd.

OOC see msg 570
This message was last edited by the player at 02:50, Mon 26 Aug 2013.

Rath gives the bar-wench an eye up and down, but it is half-hearted and hardly a proper leer. Thinking he knows what Saliq Musfara has in mind regarding eavesdropping, and knowing the bent of his illusions, Rath leans close and says quietly, but not too quietly, "Careful, wizard. You might send Scristos over the edge."

He joins the others at the table Inas selects, and he drops his weight onto the bench with some relief. He glances over at Lord Myron's men. Rath never shared Ben's suspicions that the Lord was somehow involved in the dark doings in the swamp, and he doesn't pay them much mind now, either. He smirks a little smile, imagining Inas dropping Greenscales' head into the middle of Ondor's table.

When the time comes, Rath orders food, without caring much what it is, and drinks. Something strong for himself, something large for Ironaxe. He glances at Eagle, with some empathy for his weariness, and he does not press the druid to break his silent withdraw.

Then suddenly he looks up at Ben, who has drawn attention from the room. Rath opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it, smirks, and leans back, arms crossed, to enjoy the show.

The bar-wench glides through the tavern with ease, the frill of her flowing skirt dancing playfully with each step. She exchanges playful banter with any whom would attempt to charm her, yes, even Ben. The girl's name is Rasharron, and she has an inviting manner that may inspire one to imagine what it might be like to share a private moment with her.

Whatever the case, in short order, she returns to the companions' table and sees to each man's desire for drink and sustenance, yet other desires remain withstanding.

Shortly after food and drink arrives, Ben makes his proclamation to the tavern, which now elicits a few interested looks. If the party had received only passing attention prior, all eyes fall upon the companions now. Including those of Chieftain Ondor, who had been chatting with the robed man near the men-at-arms.

Chieftain Ondor excuses himself from his present company an crosses the tavern to meet with the companions. The Chieftain is a squat, barrel-chested man with a moppish dark hair framing a doughy, baby face. He looks nothing like what one might expect of a village chieftain, rather, a shopkeep or perhaps a miller.

Whatever the case may be, he is the leader of this village and though his appearance is anything but commanding, he is husband to many wives, so he must be prosperous indeed!

Ondor calls out, his eyes twinkling with delight, "So, our heroes have arrived!" he says while clapping his hands for emphasis. "A round of drinks for these men, please!" he calls back to a nearby bar-wench.

The portly man slides up next to the heroes' table and exchanges a greeting, "Welcome to Rush Hollow! Dearest Althea has spoken well of you indeed!"

Norion nibbles at his food, drinks heartily for most, but not much for a dwarf, he is quiet tonight, running a hand through his beard, tapping a finger or two on the table, watchful yes, but mostly apart.

Quite pleased by the response, Ben offer his right arm for a manly forearm-shake, his small chest puffed up as much as it could muster.

As the chieftain passes the little man to address his henchmen, Ben takes a moment to give the soldiers of lord snake-eyes a bit of the evil eye before turning and offering his seat to the Chieftain.

A little before the group declared themselves Saliq drew Ben aside and whispered his plan:

"See fair Rasharron? I was thinking it might be a good idea if you use your charms to persuade her to have 'a private moment' outside the inn. I'll slip out a few moments before under the pretext of emptying but breeches and use my magic to take her shape - then I'll come back in and serve drinks to Myron's men. I'll be able to eavesdrop on their conversations without them being the wiser."

Chieftain Ondor accepts Ben's offer and takes a seat at one end of the table; unfortunately for him, with his back to the room, a position which causes him to cast several nervous glances back at the room from time to time.

"Well met indeed!" he offers once introductions are out of the way. "I am most delighted you decided to pay a visit to our humble village, following your expedition into the ziggurat."

Casting another quick glance back over the room, "Did you vanquish the last of the barbaric lizard-men?" he asks, somewhat incisively.

He is aware of only what Althea told him, and her knowledge of the place ends when she was rescued outside the ziggurat.

With no response to his plan Saliq tried to hide his disappointment and focused on the chieftain. Of course being a prince by blood (albeit an exiled one) he felt at no disadvantage talking to the local lordling. Smiling, he addressed the man:

"In truth Chieftain Ondor the lizardmen shall trouble you no more; their evil king has been slain and the hold he had over his followers shattered."

He was reluctant to go further in the non-existent privacy of the tavern.

Rath remains where he sits, leaned back and arms crossed, except when he's lifting a glass to his mouth. The chieftain's nervous glances start making Rath nervous, but the only outward sign of it is a casual smirk to mask his concerns. He keeps an eye on the tavern and it's patrons, pretending to watch the bar-wench make her rounds.

Ondor's face lightens considerably upon hearing this news, as though some huge burden were lifted off his shoulders.

"These are good tidings you bring. Our village has suffered greatly over the past several weeks. Many raids. Folk attacked while fishing. Our women..." his voice trails off, the man not wishing to repeat the horrible things that befell three of his woman-folk.

Turning now to Inas the Ranger, "When the militia-men returned with Althea, they told me that you had joined labor with a group of adventurers. I see now, these would be them, yes?"

Once this is confirmed, the Cheiftain asks the companions to receive a feast in their honor. "It's the least we can do, in gratitude for what you have done."

Additionally, Chieftain Ondor pledges a substantial quantity of trade goods, mostly pickled fish and prawns, as reward money for their service. The Chieftain will also see to it that porters accompany the companions back to Stormhaven, to ensure the trade goods are transported to wherever the heroes wish: market or otherwise.

Leaning in, Ben has a semi-private word with the chieftain. Those at the table who want to hear should be able to lean in and catch most of it, but none of it will naturally travel as far as the guard.

"We have much to tell you, good sir, of perhaps an even greater threat to you village. I would rather not chat in front of Myron's guard however. While my concerns are not held by all of us here at this table,  I do not much trust his intentions. By the way, what are your peoples hospitably customs like?"

Upon hearing Ben speak, the chieftain's face becomes drawn with worry.

"Very well, if you wish to speak with me in confidence, away from here, we can do so."

With regards to Ben's question, the Chieftain seems puzzled. "Beg your pardon?" he asks.

Hopefully as they are walking away to someplace private, Ben treads cautiously around the question of 'do you people share your wives with visiting heroes'

"I don't know me much about the world, almost no school for my household, but I done heard some stories from traveling folk* that some cultures have like, I don't know, traditions of hospitality? Some places put pretty flowers round yer neck, some places do... other things. Thought I ask. I gotta tell ya, there's no such thing in Storm Haven. Just curious, mind ya!"




*polite talk for 'sailors'

Inas greeted Ondor warmly, though he had hoped the meeting to somewhat more low key before Ben had announced their presence to the world. The young thief clearly had delusions on grandeur and like to be the centre of attention - odd traits for a burglar!

He expanded a little to Ondor, clarifying events. "I travelled through the night with your men, tracking the lizard-folk who had stolen away with Althea. We lost the trail a few times, but your men did well to find the tracks again so we could maintain the pursuit." A little white lie, in truth the men had kept a good pace but were no better than average trackers. When the trail had been lost it was Inas who found it again. But passing on some credit to the militiamen would stand them in good stead with their chief. When we encountered these gentlemen your men were prepared to put up a good fight, but luckily no such battle was needed. Between us the lizardmen were subdued and Althea rescued. With your men escorting her back here I stayed to help these men. We entered the great ziggurat and battled with the lizard-folk's king. Safe to say he will trouble you no more."

He raised the bloodied sack containing the severed head of King Greenscales and placed it on the table for Ondor to inspect. "The trophy is yours to keep and do with as you wish."

He face turned more serious, emphasised by the deep scarring across his cheek. "The lizard-folk will bother you no more. They are simple creatures and will move on to a quieter place. However, at the temple we found evidence of other obscenities. Once rested we intend to return there to conduct a more thorough search, and rid the place of lingering evil. Hopefully then the gods will be appeased and you will be troubled no longer."

Once it becomes clear what Ben has asked him, the Chieftain squints in recognition and nods his head slowly. "Ah! You seek companionship!" Pulling Ben aside, Ondor whispers into the thief's ear and suggests he pay a visit to the bath house, where he is to ask for the services of a lady name Helva. He offers a mischievous wink before returning to attend to, business as it were.

***

Ondor is gladdened to hear his men performed admirably and promises to see to it they are rewarded for their service.

Later, the Chieftain opens the sack to examine its contents for himself. His face becomes serious, but not shaken upon viewing the trophies. "I see that, it, has been done," he says with gravitas.

Closing the sack, he puts it aside and pledges his support for whichever task Inas and company might have next, particularly as its success has some measure of impact upon the village. Both the ziggurat and Sacred Rock are close to the village and should they harbor evil, it directly affects the chieftain's people.

If asked about the purported 'man-eating demons' at Sacred rock, Chieftain Ondor will suggest he has no information on any such creature, nor has he heard any tales of misdeeds associated with that place.

Finally, Ondor will arrange lodging accommodations for the party, "Do not worry about such things," he says in reassurance. "Tonight, we celebrate with drink. Tomorrow we feast. The day after we rest. The day following you are free to leave, as you wish."

The Chieftain says this more as a command than a suggestion, setting the expectation the heroes spend no few than three days in the village before being 'allowed' to leave.

Local custom, it seems.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:29, Wed 28 Aug 2013.

During the conversation Ben gently put forward his distrust of Myron, but was clear to point out that it was not held by all, and in Ben it was only a whisper of fear.

"We plan on trying to get the lizard-people their home back from the demons. They had no history of bothering you from there, or so I was told."

He gives a nod and thumb to the side of nose (wink wink) to the chieftains direction regarding Helva, but when the talk of staying for a three day celebration, his response is perhaps unexpected among those who think Ben is a grand stander, and that his actions were calmly considered and deemed appropriate by the little thief. (nudge nudge Inus!)

"Chief," he says with a slight bow of his head, and a fist-to-chest salute, "We are both men of the world, so I will not dance around the issue.
"I am a man whose skills are best deployed, the less his face in known. Unlike some," he says as bold faced as any three year old with his face covered with crumbs, "I do not use my talents to hinder or hamper the innocent," damn, maybe he even believed it!

"Let the brave and bold of pretty-of-face members of our band stay here for three days. It will boost the morale of all, except perhaps the men of Lord Myron, who, with all their numbers and training failed to accomplish this task," he gestures toward the head-in-a-bag.

"I feel my own part in this is best left... quiet? Yes, quiet. I should like to take the wagons to StormHaven, where I will donate my share of the food to my mother who runs a bakery, and helps feed the poor with the leftovers."
Glancing half at the others, he adds, "Your man can keep the tally, to ensure there is no accidental shifting of these rewards into mine-own sticky hands."

He chuckles, and makes as camaraderie laden gesture as he feels safe with, perhaps a manly shove on the shoulder.

"Fear not that your custom will have shamed, the chance to do this will allow us all to move forward on the next stage of our adventure all the quicker, a benefit to us both, as I hope to beat word of our success to the demons."

He will then ask the chieftain's opinion of Lord Myron and his his men...

Surprised and impressed at how the thief was handling the thief (and still privately chagrined no one had expressed interest in his plan) Saliq concentrated on his food and drink for the moment.

Eagle too was very happy to let his companions do the talking while he stared at the fire, and ate his food.

The chieftain continues his discourse with Ben, whether that might occur in the presence of the others, or separately.

With regards to questions of Lord Myron, Ondor claims to hold a mostly neutral opinion of the Talas lord, but does express some annoyance at increased road taxes that have been levied this year. Lord Myron Talas has land rights claim on the road which leads to Stormhaven's markets; therefore Rush Hollow is beholden to pay whatever tax is asked.

Ondor also comments in confidence, "Not to mention the way he leers at our women anytime he visits our village." Apparently Lord Myron is not a comely man and has some personal attributes which make many of the women here very uncomfortable, most notable is his unrelenting stare with those inky jet orbs. Some claim to have never seen him even blink, to which Ondor claims, "I might have seen him blink once..." almost as a joke.

The Chieftain expresses some reticence when Ben talks of departing for Stormhaven, the man's body language now becoming quite defensive. Clearly, this is seen as an affront to him and a utter rejection of his hospitality, though he does his best to keep his emotions in check.

"You will do what you must," he says icily. "But I wish you would reconsider..."

Inas interrupted the conversation. "Chief Ondor, we would all welcome your hospitality. You are a most gracious host."

He looked over at Ben, his glance indicating that they would do well to keep Ondor as an ally rather than offend him. Out in the swamps you needed friends nearby, not foes at your back.

Ignoring the glare of Inas, Ben continued.

"There are odd things about, you know that Chief. How could this small ragtag band of ra're do wells so easily find and defeat the threat that Lord Myron, who has enough in the way of armed might to allow so many of his men lounge in the middle of your fair tavern."

He lets that sink in for a moment.

"Now given the dangers we have so recently faced, and the good things we have done for you and your village, without trying to raise your taxes or demand anything of you good folks, I was hoping we could be given slack in such matters.
"For I am going to leave at first light."

A quick glance around to be sure of their privacy...

"And this is why...
"Whatever threat drove the lizard-men to your door, and presented them with a false god who demanded your cities blood, it's not content with staying where it is. Is it coming. It is coming, to your door if nothing stops it."

Another pause to let that truth sink well and deep...

"Your safety is too important; What we need to do is important to us, Stormhaven and Rush Hollow! If I vanish, a rumor could easily be spread that I am ill, and am sleeping it off in a private room in you Inn.
"Yes, I would prefer to stay here an party, to partake of your villages hospitality and keep you happy.
"But for your people, village, wives et ketera, I am willing to put off on such personal pleasures. As it is yours who look to suffer by any delay, it seems to me you should be willing to forgive what would indeed be an affront to you honor, in any other circumstance
"I would hope you can understand that.
"So I must ask you one small question, and trust me, honesty, for once, is really the best policy."

With the flair of a dramatic actor, he holds the pause until Chief Ondor almost speaks...


"Is there someone or something threatening you and yours to keep us here? Because I can see no other reason you would hesitate?"

he gazes into the eyes of the chieftain searchingly...

Rath glances at Saliq, wondering if this Ben is one of his illusions.

The chieftain seems puzzled by Ben's line of reasoning, though he earnestly attempts to follow where he may. Perhaps it was the wine. Either his, or Ben's? Maybe he just didn't have a bent for intrigue?

Or maybe, just maybe, he was playing dumb?

Whatever the case, Ondor does understand issues which concern the safety of his village.

Finally, he responds to Ben's unequivocal pronouncement of his impending departure:

"Very well then, Ben of Stormhaven. Do what you must. I can't say it pleases me, but I understand and respect your desires. You will no be held against your wishes." The chieftain makes a show of washing his hands of the matter by gesturing as such with his hands. Case settled.

The chieftain seems equally puzzled by Ben's last question, "Of course not!" Ondor's face now flushes, "obviously, things are just different here, than you are accustomed to in the city."

"City folk rush about from place to place, afraid the rug might be pulled from underneath them," he reasons coolly. "Country folk know how take their time and can appreciate the value of such."

Ben detects no falsehood in the chieftain's words.

Offer his forearm for a manly shake, Ben's face relaxes into a smile revealing a gap between his first molar and lateral incisor.

"Trust me, when your people are safe I will enjoy so much of your hospitality I won't be able to walk out the door," he says, gesturing to the large double doors at the entrance.

"Now, Saliq, if you would please repeat your idea for the chief here, I'm off for some food."

Looking for a serving girl, Ben boisterously orders an assorted plate of meats and fruits, and a large ale, of which he intends to swallow not one sip.

Rule of poisons number 178 - If they are clever enough to poison your food instead of your drink, eat it anyway, they are too damn good.

Norion continues to enjoy both the free food and the free drinks.  He listens but doesn't add to the conversations, he does lean over and whisper to Inas at one point and then chuckles.

[Private to Inas Eoinsson: You don't think our thief feels we've forgotten about those rubies do you?]

In reply to Norion Ironaxe (msg # 47):

Inas glanced back at the dwarf and offered a brief grin. "Don't worry, we'll remind him."

For the remainder of the evening Inas sat quietly and engaged in idle discourse with his new companions. Although not the chattiest of men he tried hard to engage them and build up a bond, especially if he was to fight alongside these men when they returned to the temple.

The evening rages on, there being much cause for celebration in the village of Rush Hollow, and the heroes plied with a seemingly never-ending supply of food and drink.

During this time, the heroes learn that Lord Myron's men have to come to obtain provisions for their garrison. Their master has not been seen in some time and Myron's steward, Jivv, is acting as Seneschal of the Keep. This accounting jives with what the heroes discovered when they first visited Myron's Keep: he was gone then too. There seems to be no mystery or nefariousness associated with their presence at Rush Hollow, perhaps just a strange coincidence, but none can be too certain of that.

At any rate...

After having their fill of copious plates of spiced devil-prawns and pickled largemouth over beds of leafy vegetables, to say nothing of the ale and spirits that flow liberally throughout the evening, the heroes retire to their bedchambers for the evening. Private rooms have been drawn for each of the heroes, at Chieftain Ondor's behest.

The rooms are small, but reasonably furnished with firm straw mattresses and wool bedding, a foot-locker (key is provided for each), and suitable bathing pots to attend to personal matters. Each also has a window fitted with thick parchment shutter to keep insects out.

In the stuffy room, being plied with food and ale, Eagle finds himself fighting off sleep for most of the time, and limits his discourse to nodding along politely to the ebb of the conversation, wishing for a campfire, his guitar and a ceiling of stars above him.

When he can finally reach his rooms he dumps his stuff in one corner, collapses on the bed, and is asleep before his head reaches the pillow.

OOC: Assuming nothing goes bump in the night. . .

In the morning he rises early, and watches the sunrise above the mist of the swamp alone. He then has a bite of breakfast, and visits the temple of Melora they went to yesterday, and spends several hours in meditative communion with his deity, who has blessed him so much power of her spirit in recent days. Though it was only a couple of weeks since he ventured down into the sewers of Stormahaven for the first time, a lot has happened to him in that time, and he needs to take stock.

As the shadows begin to lengthen on the afternoon, Eagle rouses himself from his prayers, and makes conversation with the priests of acolytes of Melora. He asks after information about the Sacred Rock, and any demons in the area, as well as anything the priest knows about Lord Myron and his steward. Finally, he mentions the agate ring he found: 'Melora has told me it is magic, but I have not found out how - do you know of any powers or books that might identify its properties?'

The wagons full of foodstuff will have left at first light, with no sign of the owners in sight. This is because Ben is hidden under one of the wagons until it is well away from the town.

He hoped his comrades would be safe... but not as much as he hoped he would be safe!

The night, aside from being unseasonably warm, passes uneventfully. In the morning, Ben is gone, as was his plan. Along for the ride, six villagers to help bring the trade goods to Stormhaven's market: both their own and those which Chieftain Ondor presented to the companions in exchange for their role in freeing his newest wife.

***

The acolytes of the Temple of Melora are indeed familiar with Sacred Rock, though that is not what they call it. The locals refer to it as Demonstone!

Ever has it been a place shrouded in mystery and purported evil. The dark formation rises up like teeth from the very soil, atop a wide, rocky tor about five leagues northeast of Rush Hollow, toward the Forlorn Hills.

Numerous monstrous creatures have called the place home in recent memory: orcs, gnolls, and ogres to name but a few. One of the older villagers even claims that the stones rising up out of the soil are actually the rib-cage of an ancient dragon that once roamed the land before being slain by a six-armed titan. But everyone claims that guy is a little off his rocker anyway!

Whatever the case, Sacred Rock...Demonstone, is a dangerous place, and the acolytes advise extreme caution in agitating whatever beast has now claimed the accursed place.

Concerning the ring, Eagle is directed a hedge wizard by the name of Magus McGillam, who might be able to help. Magus McGillam greets Eagle and offers to examine and identify the ring, for a price: 150 gold pieces!

"The components are expensive after all," the toothless man states rather matter-of-factly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:22, Tue 03 Sept 2013.

'I have no worries about paying that sum if you identify the ring,' says Eagle. 'However, as is customary in Stormhaven where I grew up I will only pay such a sum once the identification has taken place – cash on delivery is only fair.'

Magus McGillam studies Eagle through squinted eyes for a few moment, as though trying to look for any signs of falsehood. Finally, the old man's countenance softens and he replies, "Fine..."

The man asks to examine the ring in question and begins to gather the material components needed for the divination. Finally, he retrieves a single pearl, to which he holds up carefully to parade before Eagle, as if proving the expense of such a spell.

After much effort, Magus McGillam combines all the components, says a few mystic words and falls into deep concentration as feathery white tracers dance across the ring.

Upon finishing, he claims that the ring protects the wearer, and his/her allies from stone constructs.

OOC: Ring of Protection from Stone Guardians (10' radius)

Eagle thanks the wizard for his efforts, and pays the gold - slightly thankful to have put it to good use. When he returns to the inn he tells his colleagues of his encounter, remembering that there were some magic stone statues in the upper levels of the ziggurat - the ring may come in handy if these ever animate upon their return.

Unusually, Inas was able to relax in the tavern and enjoyed the hospitality offered to him and his newfound companions. Chief Ondor was a man of honour and could be trusted, and the villagers had always been welcoming. He drunk a fair few mugs of foaming ale, and ate heartily. Initially concerned at the prawn platter, he found them to be delicious, though the ale was needed to quell the effect of the spices. Later he retired to his chamber, somewhat worse for wear. Luckily he had a private chamber, as a roommate would have suffered from the emissions caused by the excess of beer and spicy food!

In the morning he woke late, his head telling him that he had over indulged. He washed himself, then dressed in fresh clothing and went downstairs to meet his companions to break their fast. When the severing wench appeared he quietly requested a simple repast of fresh bread, cheese and fruits, and some fresh water.

Shortly the discussion turned to Sacred Rock, or Demonstone as the locals called it. It sounded like a dangerous place, but one that should be investigated in order to fulfil their promise.

He turned to his breakfast companions. "So, can our rogue be trusted to return, or is he likely to disappear into the shadows with our coin?"

GM - as a woodsman do I know anything more of Demonstone, either fact or legend? What of the region it is in, the Forlorn Hills?

Were he left alone with a comrade or two, Rath would likely drink himself into a near stupor, but as it is, with the clamor and feasting and accolades of heroism, he downs a few stiff ones and nurses a tankard of weak ale through the rest of the night. His eating was less moderate, as he had learned long ago to eat well when he could, for long hungry nights were surely ahead.

Those who pay attention to such things will notice Rath occasionally scanning the crowds, as if looking for faces he might know.

---

In the night, Rath wakes from a nightmare in a cold sweat and a shudder. Horrific dream, really, that ended with Inas Eoinsson opening the leather bag to display not the head of King Greenscales, but the head of Rath himself. He sits on his straw mat, catching his breath and recalling flashes from his dreams. Finally, he curses himself and rolls his eyes. "My own head in a bag," he mutters. "Stupid. Self-indulgent. Claptrap. Rath, you're an idiot."

He washes his face, rolls back onto his pallet, and sleeps the remainder of the night and early morning soundly and without interruption.

---

In the morning, Rath appears at about the time Inas does and almost as clean. Rath has taken the time to shave the thick stubble from his face and wash the mud out of his ears. He's in clean clothes and though he carries his sword on his back, he is unarmored, and he's left his shield and most of his gear in his room. He does wear upon his arm the bracer from the ziggurat. It offers some protection, or at least Rath considers it lucky.

He sits down heavily to breakfast, his mood lighter than the days and night before. He plucks a piece of bread from Inas' platter and chews it. "Ben's all right," Rath tells Inas. He smirks a bit and adds, "And he knows a good thing when he sees it. He won't abandon the company. We're helping him get rich." Rath swallows and the smirk falls away. He shrugs, and a hint of worry crosses his face. "I trust him. I just hope he travels safely."

Norion enjoys the free food, especially the prawns, they are odd to him, but spicy and quiet satisfying.  He drinks steadily, but reasonbly, nothing he's not used to.

He finds his quarters very acceptable and settled in and sleeps late.

Inas has heard of Demonstone before, but did not previously associate it with the same place Teal-tongue referred to as Sacred Rock.

That rock formation has been fought over by many groups of humanoids over the years: ownership seems to shift every few months or so as no band seems to be able to hold it for very long. The hill side is rumored to be riddled with numerous caves and tunnels, descending deep down to the Underdark and perhaps even all the way to Abyss!

The Forlorn Hills are so named for the preponderance of burial mounds found in the region, and the utter lack of anything resembling civilization. The tombs found here belong to a people long forgotten by all but the wisest of loremasters. Every now and again, adventurers will strike into these hills hoping to unearth buried treasures, and some do, but far greater are those whom never return. These land is haunted by ghosts, spectres, and wights, to name but a few of the known threats.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:13, Wed 04 Sept 2013.

Over breakfast Inas gave his new companions some insight into what they might expect in the journey ahead. The Forlorn Hills were a place of death and decay, long forgotten by the living. To go there unprepared would be folly. In truth it wasn't a journey he would relish, but he had made a promise...

Saliq had participated little if at all in the previous evening's discussions, his mind occupied by thoughts of illusions. He had retired early and alone and only over breakfast broke his thoughtful silence.

"Ben can be trusted. He may be the roughest of rough diamonds but he has come through for us time and again my friends. I think we can rely on him well enough."

As discussion turned to the Forlorn Hills the illusionist's expression turned a little uncertain.  "I am not certain my powers would be all that useful there, though of course I shall accompany you; my magic works on the minds of the living and most of the dead, much like a princess I once knew have no minds."

Travel back to Stormhaven proves to be not without its challenges, the road being frequently muddy and certainly not what one would deem cart-worthy. There is a reason imported Rush Hollow foodstock commands such high prices in Stormhaven: high quality combined with the difficulty of bringing it to market.

The keenest minds in the Merchants Guild might reflect upon the Focused Differentiation strategy that made this a reality, but a layperson like Ben knew nothing of such things. He just knew they had landed a lot of really expensive food, the kind that usually never graced any table he sat at.

After the better part of a day, Ben returns to Stormhaven...where he is harassed by members of the Town Watch when he tries to import foodstock into the city without a proper permit. Yancy, a shifty-eyed sergeant offers to look askance, to the tune of 25 gold pieces, but otherwise he will be looking for papers, and the customary fine of 10% excise tax on any goods entering the city without a permit.

"Fifty percent discount by my math," he whispers through a gap-toothed grin.

Ben slips him fifteen, and offers him a free sample of the wares at his mothers establishment as well. Given the circumstances, Ben's hints that he might soon be someone the Sargent might want to be on the good side of shouldn't hurt. If when the man grumbles, Ben will go as high as twenty and remain friendly. If the full twenty five is required, Ben will not show anger, but the man will be put on Ben's list.

His short list.

Rath releases a heavy breath and scratches his neck. Ghosts.  Wights. Shades of the dead. He is grim but undaunted. No, actually, he is daunted, but not completely daunted. He is prepared to see this through. He shares a worried glance with Saliq. The wizard may be the most powerful of the party, but if his spells are useless in the Forlorn Lands, then ... . Rath grunts and pushes away from the breakfast table.

"Look," he says to those present. "With what happened to Duvall, I was going to tell you -- if I die, don't bother dragging me back for some ritual. My honor don't require it. But if I go down in the Forlorn Lands, then I'm telling you -- drag me back. In pieces if you have to, but get me back. Don't make me haunt you." There is something of humor in his words, but it's a mask for the desperation in his eyes. "Understand?"

Back outside Stormhaven, at the Witchlight Gate, Ben negotiates with the gatekeepers and finally arrives at a bribe which both parties can accept: 20 gold pieces. The wheels of commerce require a little grease every now and again after all!

Ben attends to the party's business over the next few hours, selling the trade-goods and then finding a secure location to store the group's valuables. Finally, Ben finds a reputable merchant offering a secure deposit box for the party's jewels and riches. The merchant asks for a fee of 325 gold pieces, five percent of the treasure's total value.

After that is attended to, Ben pays a visit to his dear old Mum. Of course, that turns into an all day-affair, what with all the siblings and hanger's on ever since Ben's last boon to his family. The little thief will be hard-pressed to make it back out of Stormhaven before nightfall, if that were ever the intent. Much more likely is hitting the road at first light, which will of course offer a little room for carousing and chasing sinful temptations of all flavors.

OOC: Let me know if you do not want to pay the banker's fee, and if so, what you plan on doing with all that treasure.

Ben will spend some time determining the security of the merchant's location, even perhaps checking with the guild to make sure the guy is either up on his protection dues, or so secure he doesn't feel the need to pay.

If he is content the items will be safe, a one time 5% fee seems more then reasonable in this dangerous world.

The time spent with his family is joyous, and he regales his siblings with takes of his heroism, and the bumbling assistance of Rath and the others, highlighting especially the kiss from the beautiful princess (and leaving out that it was in truth a transformed Saliq.)

he leaves out anything that he might not want to get out, for example the fact that the lizard men were in fact victims themselves, and that the party intended to continue their adventures elsewhere...

The later part of the afternoon is spent arranging for the Druids of Godswalk and the temples of The Narrows to distribute whatever foodstuff received in Rush Hollow that his mother feels would spoil in her storage to the poor and downtrodden of the city.

The estimated value of all the foodstuff will come out of Ben's share, and he is happy to give back. Plus it's a good step towards potential raise in status.

While he speaks loudly of his plans to carouse and vanish into the silky arms of the best brothel in Stormhaven that will take him he hurries back to the others.

In fact, without the wagons to tie him down, his unnoticed slip out of the city is easily accomplished, and before the moon has cleared the late night haze, he has traveled far enough away from town to purchase a mount and is trotting across the land as the stars spun over his head...

As luck would have it...Ben arrives back in Rush Hollow, late into the still hours of the evening, perhaps toward the waning hours of the night's festivities at the Toothless Troubadour.

Ben *might* be pleased to note the absence of Lord Myron's men-they departed earlier in the day, laden with supplies-though maybe that might make him all the more paranoid.

The others, at the least, have enjoyed a relaxing day and are well into the spirit when Ben arrives. One day yet of festivities lies ahead...how will the adventurers ever pull themselves from the lap of luxury?

Oh yes. The call of adventure...the allure of fame...the spoils of war!

Exhausted, but as comforted as he can be given the location of his loot, Ben throws himself into the nights festivities, but probably passes out before he can really get into the swing of things.


ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ...

The heroes fest well into the wee hours, but eventually succumb to their excesses an retire to their chambers once more.

The next morning comes early, and perhaps unwanted for some, but it comes nonetheless. The third day at Rush Hollow is more relaxing than the first two and mostly consists of some well-needed time at the bath-houses, which are feed by natural hot springs under an expansive brush arbor. Following their cleansing in the baths, the heroes bodies are oiled, during which time, any lingering wounds are attended to by a covey of women.

Refreshed, the companions enjoy a nice afternoon of lounging about and are free to make any last minute preparations for the coming day. Though they are presently caught in an almost magic haze where time seems to stand still, the morning brings new challenges, whether it be a return trip to the ziggurat, a trek to Demonstone, or perhaps even a homecoming in Stormhaven...or any other course for that matter.

Adventurers choose their own lots in life...

OOC: Everyone is fully healed now. What next folks?

DEMONSTONE

During the days Ben is gone, Norion recovers this strength and his mind somewhat.

"If we are goin' ta the places ov the undead, we should stock up on weapon ready oils, an holy waters' if they 'ave it in this town.  We should melt silver aloong tha' edges ov our weapons, ah'm for going there though, dunnaught get me wrong, let's just be prepared for what lies ahead.."

Norior will seek out the local smithy if there is one and see if can melt silver onto his axes and the other weapons of his group such as they wish to be done.

The local weaponsmith, Ronshagen, is able to bond alchemical silver to Norion's axes, at a cost of 20 gold for the hand axe, 90 gold for the battle axe and 180 gold for the great axe.

The work is not difficult and Ronshagen the Smith will be able to accomplish it before nightfall, pending Norion's willingness to pay the fees.

In reply to Norion Ironaxe (msg # 71):

"A good suggestion, my stout friend. The smith here is a reliable artisan and will do you good work at a fair price. I have no need of his skills for my sword, for it already possesses an ancient enchantment that keeps the blade sharpe and free of wear. It has served me well these past years. I will accompany you, however, as I may speak to him about getting some silver tipped arrows to fill out my quiver."

When Norion goes to the smith, Inas will enquire as to the price of some silver tipped arrows. They may come in handy should a foe appear who is able to keep out of reach of his blade.

When the discussion turned to their next destination, Inas was certain that a visit to the Demonstone was the priority. A further search of the ziggurat could wait until they had returned.

Saliq looks thoughtful before nodding. "The Demonstone makes sense."

The Illusionist hesitates a moment before speaking again. "As you know my friends I am not certain how well my magic will fair against the restless dead and darker things.  However my powers have grown through our recent travails and I could weave an enchanment over our group that would turn us invisible. The illusion would fail if we attack and we must remain close to the one the spell is cast on but it could get us far without being detected... if you feel the use of the magic is acceptable."

Saliq wondered if the others would accept his casting; it was one thing to meddle with his own appearance but to do it to others...

In reply to Saliq Musfara (msg # 74):

"I would have no objection to such magicks. Anything that will help up progress without hindrance."

In reply to Norion Ironaxe (msg # 71):

"Ronshagen, ah have no coin to give ya' at the present, but ah've favor with the leader of this town, an' I am going to a place of great danger, but ov' great wealth as well. Cannot we make ah deal.  The first 180 gold ah earn plus ten percent beyond, ah'll bring you, and put in such good word with the leaders here fer helpin' our cause.  If we dunnah earn much on this mission, ah'll pay you from mah holding in the bank, ah dwarf's word in matters of money is solid, you do that do you naught....." Norion takes a few breathes, this is how he ended up here in the first place, he's finally free, only to make the same mistakes again, no, not this time,  "...forgive me master smith, ah speak foolishness, ah canna affort the service, thank you fer your time".

Rath takes it as a simple turn of fortune that he is both rich and destitute at the same time, and he can make no use of any goods or services in Rush Hollow that might ease their way in the haunted lands around the Demon Stones.

He does have the trident, though, taken from the fallen lizard folk. Assured of its magic by Eagle's divinations, Rath trusts that it will strike true against the ghasts and ghosts and perhaps even the man-eating demons the party will be facing in the upcoming days.

To that end, for short periods during the festivities Rath takes breaks to drill with the new weapon, to become moderately comfortable with the basic combat maneuvers. He's never been diligent in his training, though, nor disciplined, and he's willing to trust to Fortune and his natural skill at skewering things.

Having enjoyed the luxuries of Rush Hollow's hero's welcome, Rath is nonetheless prepared to leave to face new challenges. Comfort is a wonderful thing. Too much comfort makes Rath uneasy, and he prefers to leave it behind rather than wait until the rug is pulled from under his feet.

Eager to be on the move, Ben finds it difficult to enjoy the hospitality of the good people of Rush Hollow.

"Sort o'like celebrating my naming day the months early," he would offer, should any ask at his nervousness.

Certainly the potential presence of folks who might have allegiance to Myron or the demons did little to settle him anxious tummy...

OOC Were we able to learn anything about the Rampant Lion golden bracer *properties unknown* (Rath) and the magic Magic Trident *properties unknown* (Rath???)
This message was last edited by the player at 06:52, Mon 09 Sept 2013.

The magical properties of the trident and golden bracers remain a mystery to the companions, for they have not been properly identified as of yet. Of course, there is a man within Rush Hollow capable to performing these services, but he has only been paid to identify the magic ring.

Ben inquires as to whether the gratitude of the chieftain and the town would extend to getting these items identified for us, so that we might use them to protect said village, villagers, and any assorted thatched roof cottages who might be in danger of burnination should we fail...

Chieftain Ondor seemingly takes umbrage over Ben's comment, "Have I not provided you handsomely for your good deeds?" he asks, his face now flushed with an incredulous brow.

Ondor then rattles off a list in quick succession, "A small fortune of food stock have I gifted your company. For three days, a bountiful table have I set. Bathed and oiled, you have all been." He takes a breath to compose himself.

"Ben Scristos of Stormhaven. Your world is very different from that of mine. I can only hope that you mean not, once again, to insult my house with your city ways." He stares long and hard at Ben, awaiting some response.

Those villagers whom were present for this outburst are all now hanging on every moment, curious as to how this might end.

"Really? Fine, thank you for your hospitality. I'll be heading back to Stormhaven now. Have a pleasant day..."

The Chieftain glares at Ben while folding his arms across his chest in reply, "Fare. Well. To you," in as controlled a tone he can manage.

The proud man has been pushed too far. First it was a seemingly innocent question about whether any liberties would be given with one of his wives, then it was the tempered slap in the face when Ben skipped out in the middle of a celebration in the heroes' honor, and finally, it was an inquiry as to whether or not more recompense would be coming in exchange for past deeds, in the form of paying Magus McGillam fees.

It was all too much for the Chieftain, though in truth, he had been terribly stressed of late.

Eagle turns up late for Ben's latest attempt at insulting the chieftain, as he too was at the Smithy, finding out whether the 72gps he holds would would have been enough to get a silver edge on his scimitar, or a silver tip on his spear.

Inas made sure to thank Ondor and his kin for their gracious hospitality. He was keen to keep the chief on side, despite Ben's best efforts.

Before they departed he visited the shrine to Melora and said a few words of prayer, leaving a single gold coin by way of an offering for their safe passage.

(Deducted 1GP from char sheet.)

Saliq looked pained and tried to take the Chieftain aside from Ben's 'diplomacy'.

"I apologise for my comrade sir he has... um... little experience of the world beyond the gutters.  I assure you we are all thankful for the aid you have given us and cannot not in justice ask for more."

Rath steers clear of the chieftain. He is agreeable and roughly gracious to the villagers -- he does appreciate the rewards that have been offered, but he knows that though Ondor ordered it, it was the labor of those of lower status, not Ondor himself, that provided it.

He approaches Ben as the party gathers to depart. "Trip to the city went well?" he asks.

"Yes, it did, but apparently we need to make another one now, to find out what your bracer and trident do. It would be a tragedy if one of died not knowing we owned something as useful as that protection from big arse statues ring."

It is cleat that the chieftain of the tribe has managed to make it to the top of Ben's short list. he might have to return one night and balance the scales, by about the weight of the fat bastard's testicles.

He smirked at the thought of Chief Chubbo Tubbo singing soprano in the temple choir. Ben wasn't a good fellow to piss off...

Having left Ondar and seeing Ben's expression Saliq hurried over and looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry my friend, I think I could have considered your feelings more. If there is a way to make up for it I will - after all we all owe you a lot."

Rath glances down at the bracer and shrugs. "Might be worth a short delay. No telling if a few days will make a difference at the Sacred Stones. Or to the eggs in the ziggurat. And when there's no telling, might as well trust to Luck."

OOC: Rath and I are fine with the idea of heading back to Stormhaven to identify the loot. It's equally acceptable to press on and reach the Demonstone ASAP.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:39, Tue 10 Sept 2013.

Inas shrugged. "I know not if time is pressing upon us, but I think being fully prepared would be preferable. If we have items with mysterious enchantments it would be a good move to know what artifacts we have at our disposal. They might make a big difference on our journey ahead."

He was happy enough to go to Stormhaven, though large cities held no appeal to him and generally made him feel claustrophobic.

Barring an opinion as yet unspoken, Ben will find his pony and be ready to move out as soon as possible. He half hoped the delay caused by the petulant chief wouldn't cost his village any lives... but he half hoped it would.

Norion adds, "I am of the mind ta' return to Stormhaven.  A deed done poorly need never be started.  We arr told undead roam these places, we should take some ov' our earnings stored in tha' city, an' fortify ourselves fer such a fight.  Holy waters, silver laces weapons, battle oils, let us go and use our earnings ta' make arr assault on the demonstone a successful one. Small treasures grow great ones..."

"Fortune favors the well-equipped," Rath agrees.

The companions arrive back in Stormhaven in the early afternoon hours, after having walked across the poor, boggy road which leads from Rush Hollow to the bustling, cramped streets of the city.

Each member has their own agenda to pursue, though there was still the sticky issue of how to divvy their accumulated treasure. Some wished to use their earnings to outfit the expedition to Demonstone, while others preferred a more conservative approach. Whatever the case may be, the group resolves their differences and settles upon an amenable decision for all.

After having reached their decision, perhaps in the comfort of the Rusty Nail, for old times sake, the members disperse individually to pursue their errands...

Inas, Norion and Rath spend their time purchasing gear for the coming expedition and perhaps getting the bracer and trident identified, to the tune of 250 gp for each! Rath runs into some old associates along the way, Monvo and Bruno, both of which seem very eager to get in on whatever action he has found himself into. Monvo and Bruno are shady, no doubt about that, but both are decent warriors...and reasonably trustworthy, so long as times are good. Monvo and Bruno offer their services...for a price. Both suggest that since they are "old pals", they will give Rath a break: 100 gp for both, and a share of treasure.

Ben spends his time trolling the Bazaar district, searching for a reputable sage who is well-versed in demonology, perhaps while also searching for potential buyers for the group's various treasure items. Ben finds a rail-thin, dark-skinned sweaty man wearing nothing but a loincloth who claims to be an expert on demons, Vizir Qatlip. He offers to answer any question Ben might have, for the low price of 25 gold. Ben is quite certain Vizir is hopelessly caught in the desperate clutches of dreamlily, though that in and of itself does not invalidate the man's claims.

Eagle returns to speak with his druidic brethren at Godswalk Park. Eagle receives a warm welcome and his sect seems quite impressed and pleased with his recent exploits. If told about the group's plans to help the lizard-men, the druids will approve of this course of action as the "right" thing to do, all things considered. The druids will also make a not-so subtle plea for any financial assistance Eagle might offer: funds which will be used to help restore clean drinking water to denizens of the Narrows and Oldhaven wards. Concerning Demonstone, one of Eagle's mentors, Windsong, mentions that there have been no true demons in those hills for many, many years. There used to be a portal located deep within a cavern there, but it was sealed a long time ago by a Paladin of Bahamut. Windsong says he would expect a far more mundane menace in those hills, dangerous nonetheless.

Saliq spends his time visiting various taverns throughout the city, learning what he might of recent gossip. No matter which form the illusionist takes, he finds no difficulty attracting folks to speak to. In fact, Saliq is the object of many amorous souls, both men and women and has ample opportunities to capitalize on either side of that equation, should (s)he so choose. With regards to news of the companions exploits, indeed, there is some talk stirring about. Especially with regards to their first foray, against the Cult of Ga. The brigands which were encountered early on were apparently connected to the local Thieves Guild and they are quite miffed on being "swindled" out of the score. A guy named Kreevey has been asking around for anyone knowing anything about who the group claiming mastery over a demon or devil might be. Word of the group's most recent exploits at the ziggurat have not yet surfaced, unless Saliq makes it a point to do so.

Rath catches sight of his old associates. His gut sinks a bit, and he closes his eyes and rubs his brow to prepare for the inevitable meeting. By the time he lowers his hand, he has put on a confident smirk. He greets Monvo with a clap on the shoulder, less enthusiastic perhaps than in the old days, and he extends a hand to Bruno and pretends to aim a punch at his gut when he reaches out to grab it.

Rath hears out their proposal. He shrugs and smirks. "Can't tell you what the action is," he says vaguely. "There's probably gold in it. But I ain't running the show -- yet -- so I'll have to check with the others."

--

And he does check, when they re-group. Rath's not smirking now, just laying it out to Saliq, Ben, Eagle, and Norion -- and Inas, if he's still hanging around. He talks quietly, firmly, as if he'd worked out the words in advance, and he looks around intently to gauge their reactions. "Won't vouch for their character," Rath explains. "But they're solid enough fighters, and they'll fight hard for their pay. Set down the rules, and they'll keep to them, I guess. I can keep them in line."

He looks around again, looking sincere. "Any one of you says no, and I'll send them away. No hard feelings."

In a variety of guises Saliq spent his time spreading a (slightly overblown) account of the group's heroism at the ziggurat, changing a few details here and there to preserve a little air of mystery.  In particular he enjoyed spreading rumours about himself, letting slip that he was an exiled prince (which was almost true) but in a few instances letting his imagination run free:

• In one tavern he claimed Saliq to really be an Electrum Dragon transformed into human shape by a jealous witch.
• In another he was the son of Sehanine and a mortal prince.
• In a third he claimed to have it on good authority that Saliq had been frozen in time for a thousand years before being rescued.
• In a fourth that 'he' was really a 'she' who travelled disguised as a man to escape a tyrannical father.

And so on...

One rumour he was careful not to spread was that Saliq was an Illusionist; even in the rumours closest to the truth he always portrayed himself as a 'Magic-User' - no sense in revealing his hand...

Ben wanders the town waiting for the information regarding the sage, and listening as Saliq's rumors are repeated and spread throughout the town.

Once the information was received, he invites the sage to visit him mothers house, where he will feed him and give him some tea (as well as a small pouch of the  Dreamlily, if he can)

While there he will ask for information regarding the strengths and weaknesses of demons, saving the questions regarding their response to illusions (if any) for the end of the day.

He also inquires if there are any bits of demons that might be worth a coin or two on the wizard market...

Finally he hints that he would like to set the sage up in a small shop of his own someday, for a small percentage of the profits of course.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:45, Mon 16 Sept 2013.

Vizir Qatlip devours whatever food is placed before him, but does so with reasonably good table manners. The disheveled, wiry man seems genuinely grateful to be taken into the Scristos' home-he claims that he has no family here in the city. He is from the distant shores of the Empire of Shining Sands, where he has not been in many years.

"But that was long ago, and a painful tale I would not dare thrust upon this happy home..." The man watches a young girl, one of Ben's younger siblings, races across the cramped common room carrying a soiled dolly.

Vizir eventually provides what information he has on demons, gleaned, he claims, from his service as an apprentice to a powerful conjurer many moons ago.

Demons are utterly chaotic creatures that know no fear and will fight to the death. That is most of them at least. The more powerful of demonkind will attempt to flee to their home planes of Tarterus, Hades or Pandemonium.

The lesser demons may be harmed by normal weapons; however the more powerful are only affected by magic weapons. Silver weapons have no effects against demons. Fire and cold are only marginally effective against a demon.

Demons are not native to this world, rather they are either conjured by evil wizards, whom a demon always plots to kill,or the demon finds passage to this world through an unguarded gate, of which there are supposedly few scattered across the realms.

In any event, demons are very dangerous monsters that look to visit the most cruel death imaginable on all who encounter them.

"You would do well to steer clear of any such business," Vizir offers while sipping a cup of spice tea. The man looks out an open window, onto the street below, "But, the hour grows late, Ben Scristos. Thank you for your hospitality and kindness."

OOC: Vizir's fee was 25 gp. A pouch of Dreamlily cost 1 gp.

Inas felt uncomfortable in the big city. The masses of brick and stone coupled with the smell of the unwashed masses hammered his senses and made him nauseous. He couldn't wait to leave. On the advice of the others he found a reliable smith to supply him with some silver-tipped arrows, then headed to the market to stock up on provisions.

He was horrified at the prices. Six pieces of gold for a day's trail rations! Six! For some hard cheese, trail bread, salted meat (beef he assumed but wasn't certain) and dried fruits. He could see why so many city merchants were rich and fat. Their greed meant that the poor would starve. One day he would do something about such avarice... but not today.

Grudgingly he made his purchases of trail rations and some waterskins, then headed to the tavern to meet with the others.

I'm sure you'd get a discount shopping at my mothers place... if you didn't have such a disrespectful mouth! :C)

Monvo, the negotiator for the pair, claims the 100 gp is needed to ensure he and his companion are well-equipped for whatever the group has in store. "It would not make sense to travel with such fine adventurers as yourself in naught but tunic, wielding a measly knife, would it?" the loquacious man reasons.

Bruno nods agreeably, though he adds little to the conversation.

Monvo agrees to a single share of treasure, which he and Bruno will split. He will also reluctantly agree to pay back the 100 gp retainer fee, from their treasure earnings, though this clearly is something that does not sit well with him. Bruno is seemingly less distressed over it, merely shrugging his shoulders in indifference.

Rath knows the following about both potential henchmen:

Monvo is a well-spoken young man who might come from old money. He has a bit of a temper and is known to be quite fond of fine things. He is usually clean and well-dressed. He is a very strong and healthy young man but he is not especially prone to put his neck on the line for anyone else.

Bruno is about the same age as Monvo, but nowhere near as polished. In fact, the man is downright foppish and socially awkward, but this is probably due to the fact he is mute. Bruno is very brave in combat and is known to be true to his companions.

Barring a veto from any of his company, Rath seals the deal with Bruno and Monvo. "This ain't like our other jobs," Rath tells them, cryptically, in a rough warning drawl. He feels the weight of his two pendants -- the rustic wooden sun of Pelor's and the lucky coin of Avandra. The thugs have made no mention of them, though Rath has no doubt they have noticed. Not the sort of thing he wore when he was working with this lot a year or two ago.

Bruno and Monvo happily sign on as Rath's henchmen, for the agreed price of 100 gp retainer fee and a single share of treasure.

"So, where are you putting us up? We will report there immediately and await your orders, Sir." Monvo offers Rath with a wide, toothy grin. Bruno just nods dumbly in the back as he fondles a few of his newly gained gold coins.

Monvo was of course referring to the fact that it was customary for a master to provide adequate quarters and room and board for their henchmen.

Meanwhile, elsewhere the the Witchlight Ward, Eagle is busy investigating options to procure a silver-tipped weapon. Everyone was doing it!

The rest of the group are also busy tying up loose ends all across the city, or perhaps just enjoying a little downtime before their next adventure. There was no telling what horrors might await them once they reach Demonstone...

OOC: I deducted 18 pp from the group treasury to pay for Eagle's scimitar. We still need to come up with 100 gp to pay the henchmen's fee. There are currently only 12 pp in the treasury (60 gp), so unless someone has 40 gp to put in for the henchmen fee...one of the treasure items will need to be sold. Just need you guys to tell me which one it will be.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:34, Tue 17 Sept 2013.

Ben can muster forty, twenty in coin and twenty in small gems, but when these guys repay their deposit, he wants to be paid back.

For you guys, no interest....

this time!

Eagle spends a day or so with his bretheren in Godshome park, and is happy to donate 50gp to the brotherhood to help with clean water. He also visits a smithy and has silver put on his spear, and then picks up a sling in the market place, which he spends some time practising with in the park.

When he rejoins the party he is happy to have taken on some more muscle, though is slightly wary of the company, and instead seeks out Inas to discuss woodcraft - listening with wonder as Inas describes wilderness experiences which Eagle has only ever practised in the confines of the city park. The discussion certainly whets his appetite for the visit to the Sacred Rock.

OOC: The sling is an extra weapon proficiency I picked up at some point!
This message was last edited by the player at 08:34, Tue 17 Sept 2013.