The going for the past week had been painfully slow.  Working his way up the mountain from close to the shadow side, Drest had his work cut out for him.  Not only was he facing an extremely steep climb but his equipment certainly made the going that much worse.  His tools, however, were not something he would even consider parting with; tossed into the middle of a lake, he would still cling to them even as he sank.  With his movement slowed, he missed the big celebration by a single evening, finally marching into the main camp shortly after noon the following day.  It appeared as if most of the people had recovered and were busy going about their respective days chores.  Working his way around, Drest finds himself in the (mostly) empty main hall.  Several people are seated around a single table and clearly are still enjoying the party.  Periodically they yell and holler as two gentlemen play a round of blades.  Children randomly run in and out of the building as they chase each other in a game of tag.  Two women stand by the bar area chatting.

Drest examined the hall, and the occupants, noting a few familiar faces. Being exhausted from his week-long hike up the mountain, he wasn't in the best of moods. He would catch up with them later. He desperately needed a drink. Drest made his way to the bar. He nodded at the people he knew, offering an unspoken greeting, on the way. He took a seat at the bar, set his pack down beside him, and let out a long sigh.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:25, Tue 01 Aug 2017.

The two women looked over at you with mild sympathy as your weariness was obvious.

"It's a self serve kinda setup hun," one of them indicated, pointing to the racks of various sized bottles against the wall.  The two immediately return to their conversation, leaving you to serve yourself.

Drest smiles at the woman, wearily. "Thank you, miss." He grabs his pack, walks over and pours a tall glass of their strongest liquor, then walks over to the men playing blades. He watches them play, intrigued.

The game itself seems quite simple...each takes turns throwing a total of three knives at a wooden target perhaps 10 or so feet away.  The loser of each round is then forced to swallow a small Mason jar of Farrell wine before commencing with the next round.  Suffice it to say, after only a few rounds, both players or completely tanked and their aim becomes terrible resulting in not only complete misses, but some interesting shots as many objects upon the nearby wall become unwitting targets.

After watching a few rounds of the drunken men stumbling and hitting everything but the target, Drest laughs and takes a seat at the nearby table. He greets the ones he knows and offers a handshake to the ones he doesn't. After glancing around the room, he asks: "Seems like it was one hell of a party. What'd I miss?"

The conversation rambles along covering every aspect of drunken debauchery known to man.  Tales of excessive drink, and the various brawls it spawned.  Of the women wined and dined...and of the failures of the men in their attempts to woo them.  Wild games of strength and fate...ATV battles, log tossing, fire dancing...from what you can gather, it was an affair for the ages.  One loan voice, in particular, seemed to cut through the glory of the evening, instead choosing to focus on the new Bren'in and his lack of care for tradition and civility.  He was hushed several times by the others and, although it was clear he held a great deal of disdain for the new Bren'in, he finally acquiesced and joined in the simple merriment of recalling the evenings fond points.

Drest listened to all of their stories of the party laughing at some, shaking his head in disdain at others. He listened to the man as he complained about the new Bren'in. After they were done speaking, and the crowd at the table had thinned a bit, he asked the man quietly so only he could hear: "What is it you don't like about the new Bren'in? What tradition is he trampling on?"

"Well it ain't no surprise there, cousin, a lot of folks around here ain't too keen on him running the show now.  He's a hot-head and a bully, pure and simple.  He ain't got the temperament for the job."

Drest nods his head in understanding. "Ah, I gotcha. Well, speaking of work, you know anyone that could use my particular skills?" He asks, gesturing toward his tool bag.

"A good, skilled builder is always in demand.  I'd say speak to Ciniod but he's out on a raid right now so perhaps you can track down his brother, Troll.  Other than that, simply ask around or simply put the word out.  This time of year there's always something that needs fixing."

He nodded. "Thanks, cousin. Any idea where I would find Troll? Well, after I get some rest." He asked, curious.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:09, Thu 10 Aug 2017.

"He's around somewhere...and damn near impossible to miss.  Just look for the walking oak tree...you'll understand."

"Alright, thank you. It was nice catching up, but I need to get some rest." He said, as he got up and left the building in search of a place to crash for a few hours.

OOC: There's no real precedent for housing those not from the area.  Open air is always an option this time of year as well as snagging one of the dozens of hammocks that hang around the camp at random intervals.  It is possible to request lodging from someone, whether you know them or not, in the form of a barter.  You can also approach the Bren'in and ask for temporary lodging as all Shay/Farrell and mountain kin are welcome (theoretically).

(OOC: Oh, gotcha. Thanks!)

After looking around the village for a little while, Drest steps into the forest. He finds a good spot behind a bush, and relaxes against a tree. He makes sure his pack is secured around him, then he falls asleep.

The air at this altitude is gentle with a light breeze that keeps it from feeling stifling.  Despite the hot summer heat, the air was much cooler and less damp, allowing you to get comfortable and pass out very quickly.  You awaken to the sounds of birds chirping and the rustling of the leaves in the breeze.  In the distance, you can hear voices from the camp, adult talking away and children laughing and shouting at play.  Judging from the suns position, you probably slept for 2 or 3 hours.

Feeling a lot better after that nap, Drest got up and went off in search of Troll - telling anyone he met along the way that he was a skilled builder in need of work.

The people at the camp were some of the most welcoming and inviting you had ever met.  Despite not knowing a soul, you were offered food and drink on multiple occasions and received several offers for work, from simple roof repairs to irrigation systems.  The work here was plentiful and the season was no where near over.  As your inquiries progressed, many were eager to offer help in finding Troll.  At last, you tracked down a small group of people who had seen him off into the woods to track down some possible lostys in the area.

Drest secures his gear onto him, his bat could be seen sticking out of his pack, and makes sure his machete is at his hip. He appreciated all of the offers for work, but he would rather speak with Troll first. Maybe he had a big job for him. Drest discussed the situation with the group that had seen Troll off into the woods. "Would any of you be willing to help me track him? Tracking is not my forte."

Several men step forward and explain they were headed out into the woods themselves to join him in his investigation.

"We can't be having those damn lostys wandering around so close to camp.  Question remains how they got this far...and why."

Drest nodded in agreement. "I'll follow close behind. I'm ready to go when you are." He said. "Any idea why they would even attempt to come this far up the mountain?"

"No idea," one of them chimes in, "they've never been up this far, not in a very, very long time.  Even them damn loggers never got this far."

In total, six of you march off into the woods in search of the fabled Troll.  An older man, many winters on judging from his stark white, elbow-length hair and flowing beard, was given point as the canopy of the untamed forest begins to surround you.  The group moves at a rather fast pace, much to your surprise, with the older man only stopping briefly to gain his bearings.  Suddenly, you begin to hear a heavy rustling in the brush off to your side.  The group halts as one of them states...

"Ah, here he is now."

The comment strikes you as odd given what you hear sounds nothing like a human but rather a bear...or woolly mammoth.  Then, not but a few yards in front of you, the thick, lush foliage is brought crashing down with a resounding crack.  Towering over the now thoroughly crushed shrubbery stands the most enormous human you have ever seen.  The kind of man that would be described as blocking out the sun, and that wouldn't be a gross exaggeration.  As he opens his mouth, a resonating boom seems to bounce off the trees...

"They moved on in a hurry.  I don't think they had any idea where they were."

Drest looked in awe at the titan standing before him. "Woah" he said under his breath. He studied the giant. His nickname definitely fit. "So, they came this far up the mountain on accident?" Drest asked, curiously.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:47, Sat 26 Aug 2017.

"Well somebody sure did.  This isn't a normal route we'd go through, too damn thick, a lot of thorn bushes.  Not to mention, whoever it was, broke every damn thing they could.  A blind man could follow their trail."

Their was a strange calmness to his voice, despite the resonating bass it possessed; it belied the expression of both concern and agitation draped across his face.

"Looks like they're headed towards the river.  I'm not sure how much of a lead they have, but we may be able to catch up with them."

Drest pondered the situation for a moment before responding. "I'm not sure how much pull I have here, but I think we should follow them. Though we should do so with as much stealth as possible." He suggested. "We don't want to walk into a trap, if they were leaving an obvious trail on purpose."

The small group haggled back and forth over what to do.  Several were in favor of following while a few wanted to head back and simply set patrols for the next few days.  Ultimately, the small group splinters leaving yourself, Troll and two others that wish to continue to follow the trail.

"Hopefully they haven't gotten too far on.  I don't want to get stuck out on this side of the mountain after dark."

With that, the giant known as Troll turns about and heads back in the direction he came, leaving a gaping hole in the bushes making it easy to follow him.

Drest follows Troll through the enormous hole that he left in the brush. He drew his machete, hacking down thorn bushes that were in their way. Once he thought they were getting close to the river, he sheathed the blade, not wanting to give away their position with broken limbs and falling brush.

The march extends for perhaps two or three miles, by your guess, before you begin to hear the sound of rushing water not too far off.  On point, an older gentleman continued leading the way, although a blind man could follow this trail, you thought to yourself.  Whoever had come through clearly had no idea they were so close to the camp, or perhaps didn't care.  In either case, they were definitely heading towards the river.  Marching forward, in the distance, you can make out a section of the woods that opens up.  As you draw closer, the crashing sound of water becomes louder and more clear until finally you emerge from the treeline next to a large, fast moving river.  At the current section, it was only a dozen or so feet across but the bottom was certainly not visible and the current seemed to be rather violent.  The small group splinters and begins to look for signs of the trespassers movements.

Drest decides that only someone who was suicidal would try to cross the rapid, violent river, so they most likely went up the river, or followed the current further down. He helps to look for tracks. If they find any, he'll follow them. If they find nothing, he'll suggest that they split into two groups, one heading up the river and the other following the current down the mountain a ways.

It soon becomes very apparent that, whichever direction they went, it certainly wasn't back into the woods.  The treeline was thick with brush, briars, and all manner of vine.  Any group moving through would leave an obvious path.  This meant they had to have stayed close to the river...or actually tried to cross it.  Searching the rock strewn shoreline for any signs of disturbance, you find a small, boot-print trail running south, across several large boulders; it would appear someone slipped on the moss covered stones closer to the raging waters. Calling the others, the group begins hastily moving down the side of the river.  Here and there another boot print is stamped into the stones.  As the river snakes its way through the mountain forest, it begins to lose some of its' momentum, forcing the group to stop at points and periodically scan the opposite treeline for any signs of disturbance.  As the river begins to widen out, the current stabilizes, allowing anyone to cross, providing the undertow wasn't pulling too hard.  The rocks eventually gave way to soft, dark soil and the thick foliage began to thin noticeably.  The group was now forced to move even slower so as to inspect every direction.

"This is getting pointless.", one of them grumbled.  "We're not gonna find'em."

As they stopped, and the others began complaining, Drest knelt down and studied their surroundings. He looked to Troll. "What do you think? Should we turn back, or keep going?" He asks, before standing back up and taking a step toward the river. Drest stuck his hand into the water, attempting to get a feel for the undertow - seeing if it was safe to cross, if they decided to do so. "If it were me, I would have crossed the river to mask my scent and hide my trail." He says, studying the opposite bank and brush for any signs of a disturbance. Drest was by no means a tracker, but he had a good grasp on common sense. "It might be worth the time to check over there." He says, gesturing to the other side.

No signs of disturbance could be seen on the opposing bank.  For that matter, no signs of disturbance could be found at all.  The foot trail had grown cold and the landscape appeared to be virgin.

"If they crossed anywhere around here, they'd be soaking wet.  The river is still pretty deep at this point and I don't see any signs of...wait a second...".

The towering figure of a man knelt down next to a spot in the river; his height was still commanding despite being half his size.  He reaches down into the water...

"Here, look...scrap marks on the bottom.  They had a damn canoe or small boat moored here.  This is definitely unusual.  This section of the river is nowhere near the usual areas they stick to and it certainly isn't a, pardon the pun, day at the beach trying to paddle up this far.  Damn current goes up and down for miles, they'd have to fight like hell just to get this far.  What the hell were they doing here?"

The two other members of your party instantly settle into arguing and bickering, spitting out various conspiracies and calls to action.  Troll simply sat staring down the length of the river as it disappeared into the distant landscape.

Drest sighs. "They put a lot of effort into forcing the canoe up the river, then were spotted near the camp? There's no way in hell that was a coincidence." He says. "I have no idea what they were doing, but whatever it was, it wasn't good, and they sure as hell shouldn't have been doing it here of all places." Drest muses, pondering the situation, wondering what they came here for. Were they attempting to find or spy on the camp?

"Well, this pretty much leaves two option.  We either hump it downstream and perhaps find them, or something else, or we head back.  Anyone?"

The two other members of your group once more settled into bickering as to the best course of action.

Drest took a few minutes to weigh their options. On one hand, whoever had traveled the river and woods had definitely come their on purpose. If they did not find them, it was likely that they would never know what they were doing so close to the camp. On the other hand, heading back to camp was the safer option.

Drest had never been the type to back down from a challenge. "I say we stay on their trail." Drest said, with a bit of determination.

Troll glances at the other two still arguing before turning back to you...

"I like your style."

Placing his fingers up to his mouth, he lets loose a loud, shrill whistle which brings the other two instantly to silence.  Mouths still frozen, they turn to look at Troll...

"Why don't you two head back and let Ciniod or someone know what the hell is happening.  Me and...I'm sorry, I think I missed your name...we're going to trek downstream a few and see what we can't find.  Hopefully we don't get stuck out here at night without supplies but at least others will know where we are if you two head back."

With that, he begins heading downstream along the riverbank, his boots leaving deep impressions wherever he steps.

Drest smirks as the other two are brought to attention, as if Troll were whistling for a dog.

He offers a nod of respect to the others, before following Troll downstream.

"The name is Drest Farrell." Drest said, while attempting to walk side-by-side Troll. The man's gait was much larger than his own.

The weather remains pleasant, despite the temperature having climbed as the day wore on.  Thankfully, the looming canopy of the forest kept you both relatively covered from the intense sun.  While trying to keep a rapid pace, the constant need to inspect the landscape slowed your movements.  To compensate, where the river would bend and twist sharply, you cut through the forest.  At one point, after emerging from the treeline, you swear you see the tail end of something rounding a bend in the river.  The bend is perhaps 100 yards ahead and hooks to the left.

Drest pointed at the object roundin the bend. "I think that's them. If we cut through the forest, we can catch up." He says to Troll, gesturing at how the river cuts to the left. If they were to make it through the woods quickly, they may be ahle to catch the canoe.

Straining as best he can, Troll is unable to catch sight of the object before it disappears around the bend.  He jerks his head to gaze at the woods, then whips it back to the distant river bend before whirling around to face you.

"Follow me."

Before you can blink, Troll dashes into the woods like a wrecking ball.  A trail, kind of, appears in his wake as the sound of splintering wood screeches through the air.  You can clearly see where he went, but it is no blazed trail.

From somewhere deeper into the woods the sound suddenly stops.  An instant later, a small string of expletives arises followed by the renewed sound of timber being shattered.

"I hope your right."

Drest watched the large man carve a path through the woods. He followed close behind, hoping that he was right. If the river kept cutting to the left they would probably be able to catch them, but if it cut back to the right...they would most likely lose the canoe.

"Me too." He said, chasing Troll through the forest, instinctively puts his hand on the hilt of his machete.

The trail of devastation left in the wake of the one dubbed Troll was a runners nightmare.  While many smaller trees were simply snapped down, they still stood a small distance, about knee to groin high, and were well camouflaged by the tall grass.  Large stones and decaying logs dotted the forest floor as well, something you discover in more or less what you guess to be the same place Troll tumbled.  Despite his size and the fact that he was literally making the trail as he went, the man moved with a speed that belied accepted knowledge.  When you finally break free from the forest, sweating with several cuts and bruises, you emerge atop a dirt embankment perhaps 20 or 30 feet above the river.  Up ahead you can see the river twisting back to the right in an almost hairpin like bend.  Just as you're scanning the water, Troll points straight to the bend...

"There, I saw it and I'm certain it wasn't debris!"

He rubs his large bear claw of a hand across his chin as he stares at the river.

"Alright, I'm gonna jump down the bank and work along next to the river.  The current slows to near a crawl in this section so unless they do this often, they'll be moving really slow.  Work your way along this ridge line around the bend and see if you can't get eyes on'em."