With what information he could find, Sul made his way towards the meeting place to await his comrades as he pondered what he had learned thus far.

Out on vacation for the weekend. Will still make smallish posts when i can.

Wrenn stayed silent during the exchange.

The prospective guide rubs his chin and nods. "I'll take the fifteen gold. And just to show what a good sport I am, I will take half now and half when we return." The man holds out his hand to Griswold. Gammon then describes the path they will take and the landmarks so that they can meet up if separated. He describes the two landmarks as the ruined watchtower that everyone can see in the forest and a particularly tall oak found on the southside of the forest that has the remains of a watchpost in it.

Meanwhile, your searching and questions have not gone unnoticed. The other groups have been seen around and the rumor is that the local group has already headed out, aided by Roland's family hunter and gamekeeper.

OOC:Feel free to converse and plan. When you are ready to head out, I will need a d12 roll for a possible random encounter. On a 11 or 12, roll a d100 and I will let you know what happens.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:36, Sat 30 Sept 2017.

When everyone had finished their errands, the acolyte motioned for them to get moving. Anything needed could be discussed on the road.

---

OOC:As its been a week, i'll roll the die!
Brother Sul rolled 6 using 1d12 ((6)).
I Apologize for nothing!!!

It would seem that Gammon knows his trade well, for you are able to reach the watchtower in less than two days. The Greenswood is fairly tame, being in the middle of the Empire and patrolled for centuries. Little besides the occasional deer or hare makes itself known and birds ease the entire journey with song. Gammon leaves the party to make camp each mid-afternoon and quickly returns with a brace of hares to feed everyone stew.

The second night, in the shadow of the ruined watchtower, Gammon removes a church warden pipe and packs it loosely. He offers any to those who look like they smoke. He looks very relaxed and smiles. "You know, they say these ruins are haunted. That the ghost of a knight wanders from his hidden grave to warn trespassers of goblins. Never thought they might have any credence until that noble lady made you folk look for the tomb. I'll be honest that I wanted to lead you here to be apart of something as epic as finding a lost tomb and an honored hero. Call me a sentimental old fool."

OOC: Away from the hustle and bussle of the festival, you have time to reflect on the events over the last few days. Everyone levels up!

As they take dinner underneath the aged building, Griswold laughs at Gammon's self-derision.  "Nonsense!  You, my good guide, have the heart of a adventurer and I am glad we hired you.  The company has been welcome, the journey expeditious and the food appreciated."  He passes a few coins over.  "The last of your gold.  You got us here safe and sound and I see no reason to wait until we're back in town to pay you your dues."

The Golden-haired half-elf pops a juicy lump of meat into his mouth with his fingers, preferring to jab his fork towards Gammon.

"I do have, umm <chewing>, one question, though.  Either on our..mmm...journey here, or during your hunting <slurp> trips, did you happen across any evidence of our <gulp> competition?  Particularly the uh <smacking of lips>, the group of local youths?"

He reaches for another mouthful.

OOC: I have deducted 15 gold from my post in the Player Status thread.  It is a little difficult to level up as I do not have access to edit my character sheet.  If it is okay,
 I will be taking the average increase to hp (6+2=8).  I also gain action surge.  Thanks!
This message was last edited by the player at 18:17, Sun 08 Oct 2017.

The acolyte's brow furrowed again as the lady's words rang in his memories again. It was indeed a mystery, and one that would not be solved without further insight into what they were getting into. Still, his path was set out before him, and he would discover it as he needed it.

Instead, he distracted himself, allowing a small smile to play across his lips. It had been a good week thus far. He hadn't really felt such a rush for quest and the unknown in a long time. And he was enjoying it. Perhaps, after his mission, he would... adventure out into the lands. Mayhap they would even form their own band. But that was thinking too far ahead.

Wrenn listened in on the conversation, and pondered things to come as they ventured forward onto their next task. He shares in Gammon's pipe smoking, but only a bit, "Agreed. We'll have to wait and see what the future holds in store for us, but I think you have indeed found yourself a part of something epic, and I too am glad of your company."

Wrenn had mixed feelings about the things he was pondering, but he choose to focus on the positive and remained optimistic for their quest.

My leveling up should be complete. Rolled my dice for Portent.
11:29, Today: Wrenn Muernig rolled 7,2 using 1d20,1d20.  Portent.

Kharash speaks after a moment, his rumbling voice echoing off the ruins. "I, too, would like to know what has come of our competition," he said as he gnawed on a piece of jerky. The large dragonborn shifted to listen better.

Gammon cocked his head in concentration for a moment before speaking in a very cautionary tone. "Now, I did see what could be a remnant camp about four hundred yards east of hear, near the big stream. Wasn't more than a day old but it looked abandoned. Pitched tents and mess kits, but looks like the people left them. The place has already been searched by animals. I figured they gave up and went home," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. [Secret to Brother Sul: He seems to shift after that and you are pretty sure he is not telling the whole truth from his body language.] He perks up quickly after that and smiles. "If this is an epic, promise me the one that writes it down will spell my name right! Right after I figure out how to spell it like you educated folks," he says with a hearty laugh at his own illiteracy.

"Well if this is to be a true epic, you can hardly be known as just Gammon!" Griswold grins. "There must be thousands of Gammons in this world.  If, you're going to be remembered and remembered right, you'll need more than that.  Like Gammon the Great, or Gammon of Maypole.  Any ideas?"

Gammon smiled and even chuckled a little bit. "No lad, can't say that I've done enough in my life to warrant that. I just want to make sure if a story is told, it gets told right."

Wrenn smiled, "We've got plenty of time for such titles to come about on their own. For now, we shall go with Gammon the Helpful, and we'll see where this story takes us from here."

Kharash sat on a fallen log, close to the fire, with his left elbow leaning on his knee. He held a small bone between his clawed fingers and with sharp teeth pulled the last pieces of meat from the bone. "Delicious, once again!" He grinned at Gammon, before licking his lips once more. Oh, how he loved the taste of wild meat.

"An abandoned camp? In these woods?" Kharash stared at the small campfire, the dancing flames reflecting in his golden eyes. "These woods don't seem like a dangerous place. Makes you wonder what led them to leave their things behind," he said to no one in particular. He blinked, and pulled his gaze away from the hypnotizing flames. "Gammon, you said there are stories of these ruins being haunted. What else do the stories say? Whether they're truly haunted or not, there may be some clues in those tales towards the location of this knight's resting place."

The hunter nodded to Wrenn in silent thanks before addressing the large dragonborn. "Can't say it hasn't happened before. New hunters often encounter wolves or bears. A brown bear is a mighty foe for even experienced hunters and a pack of wolves deadlier still," Gammon said before looking around and adopting a lower, almost whispering, voice. "The stories say that the ghost is seen between here and the old goblin mound to the northeast. Not much more than that I'm afraid. I've been hunting the woods for decades now and never seen it." [Secret to Kharash, Brother Sul: You get the feeling he is not telling the whole truth.]

"New hunters? I wonder..."  Griswold mulled over the phrase as he munched on his food.  "Would they, mmm, really have been so inexperienced? Four hundred yards is <munch> nothing. And they got there long enough before us to set up a whole <slurp> camp, abandon it and have it picked over by critters?" He pauses to gulp down some water.  "I thought we made good time?  Got a decent guide, left quickly and made our way straight here.  Yet someone else got so far ahead of us?  Seems un...<burp> - pardon - ...unlikely, is all.  Either the camp belonged to someone else, or its owners are much better woodsmen than that, no?"

"We could check it out tomorrow morning," Kharash answered Griswold. "I don't think we'd lose much time with that. Though we shouldn't lose track of our main goal: to find this tomb. Since none of the locals know the whereabouts of an actual tomb in this forest, it's likely we're instead looking for the last resting place of this knight." Kharash moved a bit closer to the fire, too close some would say, yet he seemed to bask in the warmth. "My bet is on that old goblin mound."

"Do you know if people have explored the mound already, Gammon?"

Gammon scratched his chin and shook his head at Griswold. "Woods are always filled with hunters. The local lords usually have someone out hunting. Could have been one of their number. In any case, I wouldn't recommend the goblin mound. Last person to go snooping around there got a blade through his leg from an old pit trap. Tales make it out to be an old stronghold, so I am sure the little bastards riddled the thing with traps."

"Which makes it even more likely to find something that hasn't been found before," Kharash grinned at Gammon.

"I must say, I have to agree with that logic. The question is, do we have anyone where who is trained in finding and disarming such traps?"

Griswold shakes his head as he adds another log to the fire.  "Not my area of expertise, I'm afraid."  After a moment he adds, "Hmm...I really wanted to believe the good Lady Inara when she told me she wouldn't let any of the competitors die.  Yet here we are with talks of wild beasts and death-trapped mounds.  Perhaps the knights cleared this area first?"

"A possibility, certainly. At the very least, I think we should go and have a closer look. If we find the place to be beyond us, we can always look elsewhere instead."

"The good lady seems to count barely alive as not dying, judging by the wounds some competitors received during the first trial. Might be the same with those traps," Kharash answered Griswold, then looked at Wrenn. "Fiddling with traps has never been my thing, but if we're careful we can spring the traps from a safe distance. Throw some rocks or poke them with a stick to set them off. We just have to keep our eyes open to spot them in advance."

"How far is that goblin mound from here, Gammon?"

The acolyte stayed quiet throughout the small talk. He instead listened to the hunter and laid the pieces of what he already had learned from his own hunt for information. A missing knight, a ghostly warning of goblins, and a stronghold did give evidence that the knight died protecting the lands. And yet the lady's words still kept him uneasy.

He took his gauntleted hand and rubbed the short stubble that was forming on his head as he pondered. He chuckled lightly as the dragonborn's words made it through his thoughts. 'Barely alive indeed. But even a candle can give light.' As an afterthought he looked to his hand before taking his time to remove his armor and get ready for the night.

Gammon shook his head and gave a sad smile. “Fool’s errand to go to the mound. But, you’re paying me to guide you, so I will. It’s an hour’s easy walk that way,” he says pointing. “It’s little more than a low hill with a few stone outcroppings. You can’t miss it. Watch out for the gully. That pit has claimed a few hunters for carelessness.”

Arizima stumbles her way through the forest toward the ruined watchtower with a face fixed somewhere between amused and annoyed clearly out of her element.  Unknowingly her voice travels through the forest to reach the ears of anyone at the base of the Ruined watchtower.  "This is what I get for trusting Kriegans.  First sign of the restless dead and they tuck tail and flee into the night like frightened children." She snickers lightly.  "Okay yes. I admit it was pretty funny but now I'm stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, without a clue how to navigate this damned forest.  This entire journey has been a parade of petty grievances and superstitious simpletons.  I swear..."

Arizima stumbles through the brush and into sight of the watchtower all at once.  Her dusky skin, golden eyes, and lilting accent paint a picture of a Dunnothi far from home.  The deep ocean blue silk outfit underneath her leather armor and the black iron geminate daggers on her hip seem to indicate nobility or some matter of importance but the look of her worn pack and boots paint a different contrary picture.  There's a slow dawning moment of realization as she looks at the assorted figures before perking up and giving them a wave.  "Hello there!  Ignore any of those complaints you heard.  I was only insulting your countrymen!  I'm sure a heavily armed band such as yourselves are made of much fiercer stuff of course."

[Private to GM: I'm switching to Dark Green if that's alright.  It's a little easier to read on a light background and no one else seems to be using it.]
This message was last edited by the player at 00:20, Fri 20 Oct 2017.