Still not thrilled with the thought of an overnight stay, Lantamori just picked at her food.  Maybe she'd sleep with Cloud tonight.

Haazheel asks where he can have or gather taggit nuts and how to plant them. If he can, he'll take a sack. He tries to interest Sir Aberlayne in taking some along in the caravan. He asks for how to make the sleeping dose.

"And the temple of Yolanda and the Duchess should have some."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 04:13, Mon 08 Oct 2018.

Haazheel, if asked, is directed to the infirmary, where a priest of Kord is presiding over a few soldiers who look as if they've run afoul of the more mundane hazards of mountain life; one has a broken leg, another scratches on his face and likely other parts of his body from some kind of fall.  The infirmary is a windowless room with several everburning lanterns fastened to the walls to give good, clear light to the rows of cots.  Though only two beds are occupied at present, the infirmary could handle upwards of fifty patients at a time; a grim reminder of the possible casualties a fort like this could take.

The priest of Kord is a young muscular man, not surprising as Kord is the god of strength, and he listens to Haazheel's request with a nod.  "Ah, I see how that would be useful indeed.  Not many soldiers will use it, but good indeed for those who will.  'Tis strength to know your limits and work around them!  You'll want Brother Vel.  Brother!" he bellows behind him, making your ears ring.

"No kin of yours, Haken, for all you insist otherwise- oh!  One of the ones who came in with the caravan? What ails you?"  An older human man, clean-shaven and with his long, graying hair tied back neatly, comes around the corner from a back room.  He wears olive-green robes and the half black-half white circle of the Brotherhood of Alchemy.  Upon establishing that Haazheel is not ailing, but in fact wants to alleviate the pain of those who might in the future, Brother Val nods.

"Sensible, sensible.  Yes, I have a little tree in the herb-garden I've been getting the nuts from to make the thallis arrows, and I can give you..." he seems to be making some mental calculations before answering, "Ten sounds ones to grow your own.  If you know a priest of Obad-Hai or Ehlonna, or a druid, they can certainly aid you with their growing magic if you are in need of them quickly."  He seems to be thinking a moment, and add, "Oil of taggit is not dangerous to the body, is not hard to grow or make.  But it does have a long history of being used by the duplicitous and the greedy.  A spouse who wishes to seek affection elsewhere might dose their lawfully wedded mate at dinner then go out unencumbered.  A sly thief or paid bedmate might dose a mark's drink so they can make off with goods at their leisure.  A traitor might use it as well; dose a gate guard's evening tea, then open the gates to the enemy.  That is why it is not part of every healer's kit - the unscrupulous might steal it for nefarious purposes, and a patient might not trust your good intentions if you give it to them.  Be forewarned about that before you sell it, so that you don't sell it to those with bad intentions."

Brother Val will write out how to make the oil of taggit.  It's not too difficult, consisting of crushing and soaking the mature nuts, simmering them gently, and skimming off the oil before removing impurities and bottling it.  It is then mixed with a dash of vinegar and some common herbs to make it easier to swallow (the pure oil oftentimes makes people gag).
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:37, Mon 08 Oct 2018.

For those still left in the dining hall, they can finish their meal in peace, though they do get some looks from the other members of the Guard, likely simply because they are strangers.  But as you are finishing your last bites, Master Deyna comes in, looking both cross and worried.

"I swear I must have offended Fharlangn," she says, flinging herself down on the bench next Narthian.  Before anyone can ask how she's managed to offend the god of travel, she continues.  "Those seven wagons I just emptied were supposed to be filled with the tribute from Firegold Citadel, to be delivered to Port Lylee.  Except, in all the excitement of the trolls, no one told me until now that the tribute is three days overdue.  Three days.  It hasn't reached the out patrols of the scouts, and with the troll attacks and all, one slightly delayed caravan hadn't been a high priority.  Except for me.  I can't go in seven wagons light and with nothing to show for it to the Port Lylee Merchant Guild!"

Haazheel pays attention and thanks the priests. Thank you, and thank you for warning me. It seems these shoudl be grown  in enclosed places and penalties fixed of unauthorized possession and use. It'll need some thinking over. He also asks if there are some doses to spare; his group faces dangers when fighting for the Good, and may need surcease.

Haazheel remembers [if I remember rightly] that there are some nearbyk taggit trees growing wild, and the season is....

"We could go look for it!" Lantamori volunteered brightly to Master Deyna.  "See if we could speed it along.  And we could leave now!"

This was the perfect opportunity NOT to overnight at the fort.

Dellas looks up from his plate of food, standing to look over it as Master Deyna addresses the others, nodding as his mouth is full and Abby always yells at him for speaking with his mouth full. Something about bad manners, he just nodded and avoided the smack to the back of the head. His thoughts began to race, maybe more Trolls, more chances to use his magicks against them. A smile crossed his face and he almost spoke up but at the last minute finished his food instead

"Sounds fun, get to see the Stars, maybe find some more Trolls." he beamed with excitement as he spoke

"I agree that we should search for it, though I think that we should wait for the trolls to be interrogated," Narthian tempers Lantimori's impatience. "It seems to me that they may know why the delivery is late. Master Deyna, where does the tribute come from? What do you know of the road from there to here?"

Brother Val nods.  "Them as grow it for profit keep it close and hidden, being as they are usually growing it for them who are no better than they ought to be.  It does grow wild, however, and you can't lock up the wilds."  He can spare four pure vials of oil of taggit, though he will require payment - processing the nuts is not difficult, but it is tedious and laborious.  "I'll let them go for cost, lad, seventy gold each."

Haazheel doesn't recall any taggit trees nearby, as he hadn't known was a taggit nut even looked like until a few minutes' ago.  But if he runs into any woods-wise folk once they get back on the road, things should be growing well in the bright sunlight of summer.



"That would be wonderful, Lantamori, thank you," Master Deyna says sincerely.  "Better to send a message ahead that we're late than show up with half a caravan."



"I sincerely hope there's no more trolls," Sir Aberlayne mutters.  "Very sincerely indeed.  But I'm ready to go, even as soon as now.  Most of us see well enough in dim light.  If we could just get a local guide, or at least a map, we should be all right."



"I don't think Commander Brighthearth would deny you sitting in on the interrogation, and I'm sure he'd rather it done sooner than later.  The tribute," she continues, "comes from Firegold Citadel.  Treaty goods from the dwarf clans... Ah, some of you might not know.  Short story is, back when Low'verok was getting together as a country, the dwarf clans said they'd live alongside human kings, but they'd keep their clan holdings.  There's Silver Citadel and Citadel Amber further north in the Firespine Mountains, and then Firegold Citadel here in the Dragonspines, southwest of Fort Cross.  They pay tribute to the King for the privilege, which usually goes to the nearest fort, and then to one of the larger cities so the king's officials can distribute it according to the rules that were set up in those old treaties.  Most of it comes in the form of weapons, armor, sometimes precious metals or jewelry.  The dwarves lock it tight in bespelled iron coffers, so while it's tempting, it's also too tough a nut to crack except for the most powerful.  And the most powerful thieves can find wealth enough without trying to rob the king and draw his ire.

"The road between here and Firegold Citadel is well-maintained and decently guarded, but there's a lot of it.  I've only been to the Citadel twice; dwarves don't offer that many invitations.  But I understand many of them use the beasts of the mountains to aid them in guarding their roads.  I've seen a big brown bear once, fighting alongside a dwarf, and I've seen gargoyles a few times."

"Thank you, Master Deyna." He turns to the others nearby. "I do not know if I have anything to contribute towards making a troll talk. My skills are not in interrogation or diplomacy. I have, however, prepared spells useful in learning news from nature, the plants and animals that we'll find on the way. This may be sufficient for our eager elf," he smiles at Lantimori,"But what say you others?"

Thunder sits and idly scratches an ear with his hind paw.

So Haazheel eats and composes himself to sleep, restless sleep this night before he calms.

Farian listens as the others speak on trolls and shipments, wondering to himself what the best course of action is. "If the group consensus is to leave now, then I will concede to do so, but I would prefer not to leave until the interrogation is over, whenever that may be. Master Deyna, do you have any ideas on who, or what, would attack the tribute caravan? I would assume it is heavily guarded as well, so bandits seem unlikely unless they knew ahead of time of its presence," the priest inquired as he finished his food and ale.

"We'll need a letter or something," Lantamori added, glad that things were moving in her desired direction.  "Something to let them know we're there to help get them safely to the fort."

"The caravan usually is guarded heavily, which makes the tardiness very worrying. It's... possible something happened at the Citadel that caused the delay that wasn't an attack; maybe there was a death in someone's family, or an illness.  But as for who would attack it... orcs are always possible, wyverns, perhaps.  A dragon?  I haven't heard of one nearby that wasn't some ancient legend, but they are long-lived and clever so it wouldn't be impossible," Master Deyna says, brow furrowed in thought.



"I can get something from Commander Brighthearth.  I'll go see when they're going to interrogate Grollock and be right back," she says, and pops off the bench to go to the back of the dining hall.


OOC: Interrogation of Grollock later tonight, about in an hour, game-time.

Within a half-hour, one of the other members of the Guard returns to conduct those interested outside.  Torches have been set up in the gathering dusk to illuminate the yard brightly, giving you an unfortunately clear look at Grollock and his companions.  Commander Brighthearth is standing just beyond grabbing range for the chained trolls, with a half-dozen members of the Guard and some of the Troll Hunters, all armed with long, cross-braced spears.  Four more behind them have bows and the distinctive wad-tipped forms of unlit fire arrows nearby.  Apparently the Commander is taking no chances on Grollock's good behavior.

The Commander nods at the group and beckons them closer.  "This is how things stand; a a fortnight prior, a group of priestesses of Wee Jas were traveling through the Dragonspines on the way to a holy site of theirs.  They were scholarly types, and were guarded by several warriors of their church.  The route they were taking was one they'd been taking for close to a century, and was protected by treaty to be sacrosanct.  Getting a treaty with the troll and orc chieftains for everyone to get to their holy sites without impediment by any intelligent beings was an enormous undertaking some fifty years ago, but it has held since then.  It allowed everyone to do their rites as they pleased with no enemies but beasts, accidents, and weather.  For Grollock's band to break it means consequences, unless they can convince me that they had good reason.  And it will have to be a damn good reason.  Otherwise we're back to the little wars of fifty years ago."  From the scowl on Commander Brighthearth's face, he doesn't relish that thought.

"You have an outsider's perspective, so you might think of different things to ask them.  Grollock there has been his band's leader for forty years.  He's proud and touchy, but agreed to come chained for the sake of his clan, so that shows some integrity.  The one with the three warts on his nose is Kolorn, his warlord.  The one with the long hair in that greasy topknot is Laask, his chief scout.  And the one with the old scar on his chest is Dulgran, his uncle and adviser."  The Commander taps his fingers for a moment, thinking.

"The attack on the priestesses happened at night, just before their sacred rights.  They lost four of their six holy warriors in the attack, and another four priestesses.  The only reason they didn't lose more was that the priestess started using the strongest of Wee Jas' magic against their attackers, and one troll was slain outright by death magic.  The others fled, but the priestesses had proof positive, not to mention all the tracks and traces and troll blood once our scouts found the ambush site.  We're not just trying to save the treaty here, Leafblade Company, we're also trying to negotiate blood payment for the Church of Wee Jas, so they don't feel the need to retaliate."

He raises his eyebrow, inviting more questions.  If there are none for him, he'll turn to the trolls and wake them up.  Grollock wakes first, followed soon by his clan members, heavy eyebrows furrowing over dark eyes as they squint into the torchlight at the little humanoids in front of them.

"Seems straight forward, Commander," Narthian says. "I will let you know if I have any pertinent questions."

Haazheel waits for the palavering session.

Lantamori is already in the stable saddling Cloud for their upcoming venture.

Commander Brighthearth speaks in a low voice, his scowl impressive.  "Grollock, you came here to show you still care for your people and mine to live without killing each other. Yet you fought at our gates.  A fortnight ago, six humans and two half-elves died at troll hands.  What do you know about the attack?"

Grollock grumbles a few times before raising his head.  He grunts, and jerks his chin at Laask, the scout, who responds.

"Was hunting, half moon ago.  Heard screaming, was scaring off the animals.  Hid and went to look.  Saw shadows.  Shadows that killed."  Laask shudders and shuts his mouth.

Grollock nods next to Dulgran, his advisor.

"Bad luck, bad luck forever to see them.  Had to keep village pure, so Laask goes into cave with shaman to get bad luck off. Can't leave, nobody can leave until the bad luck's off."

Commander Brighthearth slides a look sideways at the rest of the Leafblade Company, to see what they make of this tale, or if they have anything to ask.

--

Lantamori, most of the horses are restless from the troll smell.  Cloud is a little less so in your presence, but Demon kicks the sides of his stall periodically and rattles his water bucket in agitation.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:26, Tue 16 Oct 2018.

When he sees the fort's guards assembling near the trolls, Dante goes over to listen in. The news about the treaty is interesting. After hearing the trolls' answer, his immediate question is, "Was the troll that was killed a member of his band?" Perhaps it was a different group passing through, unaware of the treaty. His curiosity stirs; the troll had spoken of shadows, but not the group of priests, "Did Laask there see the group of priests? Or is there a third party involved in this, playing against both known sides? Or... can they tell us about these 'shadows' they saw? They have rites of cleansing, so that suggests past experience."

Farian went out with the others to watch the interrogation, ever curious about what exactly had happened. "That is quite a story. Do they have any proof? Shadows that kill do not simply rise out of the ground, not unless they were on very evil grounds," the priest commented, wishing he had prepared different spells for today that could help their investigation.

Volsh followed to the trial all the talk of Firegold had peaked his curiosity though he wasn't yet ready to start showing his hand. Things were not adding up for the savage, the trolls had kept their end of the deal for years and even agreed to come here. These were not the actions of guilty men, at least stupid guilty men and Volsh didn't believe the trolls to be master manipulators from what he has seen so far.

"Tell us more of these shadows, how many of them were there, how did they attack, did you kill any?" He said in a somewhat aggressive tone.

Dellas sat on a post near by watching the trial stuff his mouth full with breads and cheeses. The Trolls story was interesting and he couldn't tell if they were telling the truth or not but some of the others had some food questions... But growing quickly tired of the proceedings he pulled out his gargoyle figurine, speaking the word of power "Kelvren" it came to life. Smiling Dellas looked upon the creature. "So Kel, what is it you can do? Can you fly and do acrobatics for me? Are you a collector of things?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 07:40, Tue 16 Oct 2018.

Commander Brighthearth nods.  "The body that was found had been scavenged somewhat by animals, so we weren't able to say for certain it was one of Grollock's band.  We don't know every member, we know them by their clan scars.  As for the rest."  He raises his voice slightly.  "Grollock, did Laask see the group of priests?  And tell what you can of these shadows.  What do your legends say?"

Grollock nods at Laask again to speak.  Apparently there is some protocol here; all things must be addressed initially to the chief.

"Only saw smallshanks after saw the shadows. Road's forbidden, but was a lot of noise. Heard all the screaming, but wasn't gonna fight shadows to get smallshanks out of there.  Might have angered the shadows themselves. Didn't need more bad luck," Laask says.

Grollock nods at Dulgran, and the older troll picks up on Averdante second question.  "Shadows come from what's left from the Underworld. Shadows of trolls, no souls, evil and cursed and can never rest. Can turn you crazy, make you rot."

All of the trolls shudder at that.




Commander Brighthearth nods and relays the question sternly.  Grollock furrows his brow, then jerks his head at Kolorn, his warlord.

"All clan known.  No one missing.  On Vaprak, I swear, no tribe gone."  Kolorn's Common is even rougher than the other two, but he seems passionate about his words.

Commander Brighthearth furrows his brow for a moment, then says to the group, "Vaprak is the god of the trolls, and they don't bandy that name about much."



There's nothing like Volsh to cut to the heart of the matter.  Grollock glares at him a moment, then nods to Laask again.

"Shadows blackened the road, swarmed like crows over a carcass.  Didn't kill any. Too much bad luck to see, so left fast."




The little gargoyle doesn't seem able to talk, but as it uncurls and looks at Dellas, it does its best to answer.  It flies in a tight circle around Dellas, looping about and twisting and turning in a dizzying fashion.  When asked about collecting things, it seems uncertain, but will go push together several similarly-sized pebbles and look to you for your approval.  Then it goes around the side of Dellas that's in shadow, and looks about easily, jumping over his foot as if the darkness held no problems for it.

Haazheel taps his forehead and speaks up. "Some questions, please. These shadow things...did they seem to come all of a sudden? When they had done, how did they go away?

"Commander Brightheath, Sir...it may be your company and the trolls have a common interest in all this...a menace in common."
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:12, Wed 17 Oct 2018.