The party does well in its bid to depart early. Equipped with everything they need (although admittedly only a loose definition of the target cave's location) they depart shortly after sunrise. They estimate anywhere from 8 to 10 hours on the road before they'll reach the bridge, leaving them at mid-afternoon. From there the real search will begin.

In the earliest stages of the journey, the Northern Trail holds a bit of traffic. Citizens traveling down the road from their homes north of Westbank and a few traveling to and from supposed fishing holes. As they journey a bit further north, outside the protective scope of Westbank itself, the traffic diminishes noticeably.

By the looks of it, the trail here is well-travelled. Brave merchants still make the journey north to Alaka, a good 2 to 3 days ride from Westbank. To the east of the trail lies the Misty River. Beyond that, rugged rolling plains. To the west are scattered hills and trees. Beyond those some ten miles is the ancient forest known as the Wildwood.

OOC: Assume you run into a townsfolk or two on the way out (a fisherman, a workman, a girl pulling a particularly stubborn mule). If you want to ask them anything, go ahead. Otherwise I will proceed tomorrow.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

Lazaret, ever the conversationalist, greets everyone on the road. He is not good at keeping the company's destination a secret, perhaps foolishly, but he looks for the good in everyone.

You just can never tell what a stranger might have to offer. I've met so many interesting common folk in my time. They are, by far, more delightful to converse with than the highborn. Though their lots in this life may be humble, they have had to work for every scrap they have.

One time, after coming ashore and making my way to Waterdeep I met a fish monger...

(He will chat up everyone on the road. If anyone has anything interesting to add, we can RP it. Otherwise we can help Marc calm down and get to the violence.)

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 2):

Yeah, when can we start killin' shit?

To the other travels on the road:

Please excuse my chatty friend, he has spent many nights on his ship all alone, without anyone to tell about his fables and stories. Please don't mind us as we make our way to Alaka.

to Lazaret:

I do think it may be in our interest to keep the reasons for our travels to ourselves. We don't know who may be working with this hooded fellow whom we seek to apprehend and the element of surprise is our friend. It is already enough that our appearance as a group of travelers appears to stand out from the rest, we should make an attempt to keep our intentions to ourselves.

In reply to Celador Qiris (msg # 4):

Fair enough. I guess I am just anxious for new adventures. Perhaps tonight I will tell Thorfire about the time our ship chanced upon an island of little people.

Feels good to stretch my legs though. I'm glad we didn't get horses. Bothersome creatures if you ask me.

The early morning passes without trouble. Lazaret stops to converse with a farmer, a fisherman, and a girl leading a particularly stubborn mule into town. Each engages him politely, although none appear to have ever seen a tabaxi before. After a few hours hike, traffic on the road subsides considerably and the party begins to make better time.

Sometime mid-morning, the travelers spot a two figures on the road ahead. They move south on the trail, heading toward the party. There is something noticeably different with this pair compared to those encountered earlier in the morning. While those seen previously moved with a purpose, the approaching figures now travel with a slow, uneven gait, as if injured or intoxicated. As the gap closes, it becomes evident that the shorter of the two is just a child of perhaps six or seven years, struggling with a heavy pack. The taller of the two, a woman, also struggles. She carries a second, larger child in her arms.

OOC: Perhaps we should kill them and get some xp...we can't afford to be bogged down with them at the moment. Did I mention I am chaotic neutral?
This message was last edited by the player at 03:21, Tue 11 Apr 2017.

Celador sees the approaching woman and (presumably) her children and also notices Thorfire move his hand toward the dagger on his belt (it seemed almost reflexive).

Excuse me good woman, are you in need of some assistance? He calls out to her.

The woman, still a good way off when Celador calls, stops for a moment to regain her balance and survey the party in front of her. After a breath, she hurries forward, stumbling awkwardly and eventually falling to her knees. The youngster rushes to her side, then drops his pack and sprints toward the four companions.

"Help us," he calls while still running toward them. "My sister is sick and we got ambushed by orcs and my mom is - WHOA!" He stops in his tracks to stare at Lazaret. "Is he a cat?"

In reply to DM (msg # 9):

A Tabaxi. Now let's have a look. What was your name?

Lazaret walks quickly with the youngster toward his mother and sister up the road. He slaps Thorfire firmly on the back of the head for trying to kill children on the road.

What seems to be the trouble my lady?

It has been so long since Thorfire has killed someone he is getting antsy... As he caresses his daggers, he seriously considers backstabbing the frickin' cat.
21:03, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 19 using 1d20+5.  Stealth (Hide in plain sight)

Celador rapidly assesses the mother and child for injuries.

Orcs, you say? How far back were they? Did you get a count of how many there were? Do orcs frequently bother travelers on this route? Were they lying in ambush?

under his breath to Lazaret, Thorfire and Therarak:

I'd love to hunt down some of those grimy beasts as long as it doesn't delay us on our mission too much.


22:19, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 19 using 1d20+1.  medicine.

This message was last edited by the player at 03:21, Wed 12 Apr 2017.

"My name is Gregor," says the young boy. "Mama look. A talking cat. Only he says he's a taba - a tabbacks. He says he's something else."

Celador attends to the woman and child. Neither look wounded from what he can tell. The woman is clearly exhausted. The child, a girl of about 10 years, suffers from some sort of illness, possibly an affliction known as "winter fever". She is pale and has trouble breathing. The elf gives them both a drink from his waterskin. The child perks up slightly. The mother visibly relaxes at the sight of the stranger's help.

"Thank you," she whispers.

She sits quietly for a few moments, regaining her strength before continuing. "We are on our way to Westbank from Alaka. We were hoping to see a healer for our Harriet. As you can see, she is very sick. We did well on the first two days. We had a cart and a good horse. But last night - last night Nordal - that's my husband. Nordal heard something approaching while we slept. He said they were orcs and he told me to take the kids and run ahead. He had a sword. He was always good with a sword. He was in the Guard at Stonehaven when he was younger. But there were too many. I could see them. I told the kids to run ahead but I could see them in the moonlight. At least five of them. They killed the horse and then beat Nordal within an inch of his life. But they didn't kill him. They hitched him to the cart and made him pull it. I wanted to scream, but I feared for the kids."

The gnome, having journeyed silently for the better part of the morning, approaches the woman and hands her a vial from his satchel. "For you, a healing draught."
01:13, Today: DM, on behalf of Therarak Gemfinder, rolled 7 using 1d8.  Healing draught for mother.

The mother sips the vile and smiles. Therarak produces a second vile and hands it to the mother. "And one for your daughter."
01:13, Today: DM, on behalf of Therarak Gemfinder, rolled 4 using 1d8.  Healing draught for Harriet.

With a nod of appreciation, the mother presses the vile to Harriet's mouth. A little color returns to the girl's cheeks after she consumes the draught. Her eyes open fully, blinking in the sunlight as they do.

"Pelor smiles upon us to have found you," the mother says to them all.


OOC: Posted by DM on behalf of Therarak.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:27, Wed 12 Apr 2017.

In reply to Therarak Gemfinder (msg # 14):

Take your children to Westbank. You should make it by late afternoon. Tell Sister Gwendelon what happened to your husband.

Friends, time is short. We must make our destination swiftly and now we must be on the look out for orcs.

Vile creatures. Once in port we ran into orc marauders. Their tactics were vicious and effective. Many townspeople died. Their homes and shops were looted and the orcs took no prisoners. My fellows and I managed to cut their numbers significantly, but there were just too many to defeat that day. Spilling orc blood would somehow give me a sense of justice, but we must find that cave or I fear it will be our blood that will be spilled.

Lazaret gives the woman five silver pieces and sends them on their way.

"Westbank? No. By the time we reach Westbank it will be too late for my husband. Please good sirs, you must help him. I beg of you. Everything we have is in that cart. Nordal has a set of vials. He never told me what they were but I believe they were... they were magical. They are yours if you just bring him back to me. Please! They can't have made it far with him pulling our cart."

In reply to DM (msg # 16):

Of course, my lady. We will look for your husband on our way. But you must take your children to Westbank. The roads here are not safe. Hurry!

Fellows, we must be on our way. Now we have a man, a cart, and a cave to find!

"Oh thank you," the woman sighs. "May Pelor bless your souls!" She rises to her feet and with and arm around each of her children, watches and wabes as the four adventurers advance to the north and eventually out of sight.

The road is quiet for the next hour as the party proceeds. Then, at the top of a slight incline, along the west side of road, the travellers can see the signs of a struggle. The remains of a horse lie there, and not far from it are two dead orcs.

Everyone please make a perception roll.

In reply to DM (msg # 18):

19:01, Today: Lazaret rolled 13 using 1d20+4 ((9)).

In reply to DM (msg # 18):

Not very perceptive...
19:08, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 6 using 1d20+2.  Perception.

22:27, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Perception.

The four adventurers see the remnants of the scene described to them by the woman. The ashen remains of a fire, encircled by rocks, lie about 20 feet from the side of the trail. Around it still lies a blanket and a carved wooden doll, presumably left behind by the family in their rush to depart.

The body of the horse lies to the north of the fire, hacked lazily by crude orcish blades. Near the body are two narrow depressions in the ground. Perhaps the wheels of the cart where it settled slightly as it sat for the night.

Not far from the horse are two orc bodies. The first still grips a dull rusty longsword. The cuts on his own body are clean and deep, the work of a superior blade. The second orc body lies headless not more than five feet from the first.

The travelers survey the grim scene and try to calculate where the cart could have gone. The question hangs in the air unanswered for several moments before the keen elvish eyes of Celador notice something further away from the road. He spies two narrow, parallel ruts in a low spot of rain soaked terrain. A closer look reveals a set of footprints between the ruts. The footprints are very close together, as if burdened by a heavy load. They point westward, toward the Wildwood in the far off distance.