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.