Clatterstones bid his farewell to Zeric. He did nothing to try to convince the young man to stay with the group, for Zeric had made up his mind and for good reason.

Packing and repacking his things and chattering to himself, Clatsi startled when Folly Stoneheart mentioned the amulet as if Zeric carried it. It took a moment to realize what that was all about. After that, he complete his preparations in silence, carefully avoiding even glancing at the dwarf, and then was ready for the road. He looked back in the direction that Zeric had gone, but for once he didn't voice his thoughts.

The party departs the farmhouse and is soon back on the Tradeway, marching west toward Hobb’s Ferry.

Stoneheart Forest looms dark and oppressive on either side of the road. Many of the trees and shrubs on either side of the road are festooned with thick spider webs glistening with dew, resembling some sort of strange gossamer veil. As noted previously, the forest is strangely devoid of birdsong, making for a cheerless and eerie day of travel. However, toward sunset the road emerges from the forest’s confines and enters a verdant open landscape—river plains to the south and the foothills of Stoneheart Mountain to the north.

Ahead, to the west, the party sees a roadside waystation. Unlike the last one, this waystation appears to be in good repair and occupied. The smell of campfire and roasting meat drifts on a warm, westerly wind, a pleasant smell after a long day.
Approaching the waystation, the party sees what appears to be Waymark soldiers encamped within the waystation, judging by their livery and standard—a galloping ivory horse on a green field.

The Waymark patrol consists of eight footman, two knights, and a sheriff, all likely serving a term of service in the Suzerainty of Bard’s Gate, as is often the case in the lands between the City of the Lyre and the Grand Duchy.

A sentry hails the party as they make their approach.

“Hail stranger! Ware! State your business!”

OOC: All PCs would be aware of the fact the Duchy of Westmarch, a grassy plains region located immediately west of Fairhill, is allied with the city state of Bard's Gate and provides the majority of Tradeway patrols in exchange for coin. They essentially act as a limited contract army outside the city's walls.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:08, Thu 11 Nov 2021.

"We were naught but weary travelers, but we were attacked, and witnessed atrocities as well. We have a deceased companion with us, and two corpses with prices on their heads."

Folly stops at that, waiting to see how these men would respond. Clearly every effort to make haste had been for naught, and it upset him that they had made such poor time on the road.

Clatsi stayed quiet, as he had, uncharacteristically, for most of the day. All he had said on the road was private to Ullian. "'Twas ill-played, that trick of Folly's. He could well have sent the imp to poison Zeric, who might be dead on the road even now, for all we know. We can only hope that Talon was not listening."

Clatsi had pestered Corian to no end about the amulet, but now, with little regard for the dwarf after that stunt, he had refrained from asking after the amulet. Nor was he happy with Folly as the spokesperson for the company. Who knew what the dwarf would tell the Waymark patrol?

He stayed back and tried to seem innocuous. An easy task for such a little gnome.

Sharn walks forward and points to the dead half orcs, producing the wanted dead or alive papers.

"The next waystation is burned down, we came across it so last night, seeing a nearby farmhouse, we investigated hoping a safe place to sleep...."   Sharn goes on to tell the horrors they found, the poisoned chopped up children, the hacked up parents, how they buried them with respect and then were attacked by the evil wizard and his "raven" which turned into an demon and poisoned Corian, how he raised the dead against them.  She leaves nothing out short of never mentioning the amulet.
When it comes to the killing of prisoners, she says, "One died trying to fight to freedom, the other I killed while he was bound and tied.  the wounds will bear it out.  If there is a price for that, I will pay it but I wish an audience with the Sheriff to explain.".

The sentry allows the adventurers to enter the waystation unimpeded, but the Waymark patrol are obviously wary and keep weapons at the ready.

The troops gather around the party to listen to Folly and Sharn's recounting of events. A comely man with a formal demeanor, obviously the patrol the leader, edges forward when Sharn's produces the wanted poster and gives it a cursory glance before turning his attention to the dead half-orcs, and finally, back to Sharn.

When Sharn relates the details surrounding the farmers' demise, the patrolmen become visibly unsettled and several shake their heads in disgust and offer other verbal cues of their displeasure at hearing this tragic news.

When Sharn finishes her tale, the leader comments, "May the gods have mercy on the family. These were good people--Halas, Bronwyn, Ansley, Ilwyn, Corwyn. They showed us nothing by kindness and deserved better."

The man then introduces himself as Sir Rodegar of Fareme, Oathsworn Sheriff of Bard's Gate.


Sir Rodegar says his patrol has just returned from hunting the gnoll clan who sacked the waystation about a week past. He further relates that Halas and his kin hid in the forest when the gnolls attacked the waystation and the pilgrims within. The gnolls took the pilgrims as slaves and fled to the north. The patrol eventually lost the gnolls' trail and returned back to the Tradeway to continue their patrol.

"These two villains are known to me," Sir Rodegar says while examining the dead half-orcs. "Good riddance and well done," he says as a compliment.

Sir Rodegar dismisses Sharn's concerns with a wave of his hand. "You have been heard," he says.

Sir Rodegar expresses concern about the evil wizard and his demon and asks which way they fled.

"The wizard, one Vortigern by name, became invisible, and vanished into the might, along with his companion, be it his minion or master I know not. He also had as an ally a beast that could mimic the cry of the terrified child. A horrid beast, whose body was a strange cross between a stag and a hyena. I fear it may lure travelers out of the way-stations, it certainly tried to do the same to us."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:37, Fri 12 Nov 2021.

Ullian said nothing during the exchange.

[Private to Clatsi Clatterstones: "He is a bit gabby, isn't he?  Still, I think he's done a decent enough job in addressing the guards.  But maybe, after we get our share of the reward, we just split company from him, eh?"]

"It seems this, Vortigern, is a wizard of some power, to have so many fiendish allies at hand and the ability to reanimate the dead," Sir Rodegar replies. "I will see to it others are warned."

As for the disposition of the outlaws, Sir Rodegar offers to cover the full bounty on the spot and commands four of his footmen to "burn their bodies, downwind, and done with them we'll be."

Four of his men comply and haul mercenaries away from the waystation.

Sir Rodegar says he intends to remain at the waystation until tomorrow morning and then will depart for Fareme to the west.

"My condolences to you all for your lost companion," he says looking at Corian.

OOC: Sir Rodegar gives the party 200 gold pieces, which he retrieves from somewhere within his field tent.

Once Sir Rodegar is out of earshot, Ullian claps his hands together and says: "Excellent! So, from a financial standpoint, this expedition won't be a total loss.  What's that, forty gold apiece?"

Thanking Sir Rodegar for making their task that much easier, Folly joined the others, and gather his own share of the coins.

"Forty more that I have on hand, Ullian, so well pleased with it. The question is, what do we do now? Do we wish to stick together, or go our separate ways?"

Folly counted his coins twice, not out of any doubt or suspicion, simply for the pleasure of the feel of the coins, then he places them in his pouch.

"We might still have to worry about Vortigern, seems to me, there might be safety in numbers. With luck he'll collected a few more wanted fellows to attack us, and we can cash in a second time? Though he is too dangerous to make that a way of life I suspect."

"Sir Rodegar, would there be an interest from Bard's Gate if someone tracked down these gnolls and rescued the pilgrims?"

Sir Rodegar had stepped away from the adventurers to have a private word with one of his knights, but is drawn back into conversation when Sharn asks about the gnolls.

He favors her with the hint of a grin and replies, "Aye. There would. The self-styled Gnoll King, Ga-awoo-tarr, has long been a thorn in the side and the Council of Burghers would undoubtedly pay a handsome ransom to any who could put his reign of terror to an end."


He further explains the pilgrims were Pelorites, traveling to Fairhill to take part in the Midsummer Blessing at the Temple of Pelor, led by High Priestess Shandril.

"Do we have any estimates as to the size of King Ga-awoo-tarr army?" Folly doesn't want to trade a Lich for two-hundred gnolls, if life is an option.

"Farmer Halas claimed to have seen at least a dozen gnolls attacking the waystation, before he and his family hid in the woods," Sir Rodegar replies. "But this was likely a small skirmish party and nothing more," he adds.

The sheriff claims Ga-awoo-tarr likely commands an army of more than 100 gnolls, not to mention his alliances with ettins and trolls and any number of other monstrous beings he can call to service.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:55, Sat 13 Nov 2021.

"Hmmm... seems like dealing with the King might be much, but we could scout out the potential for a hit-and-run rescue of the pilgrims."

Tugging his beard gently, the Dwarf continues.

"Though where there be Gnoll kings, there are usually those who resent their power. Gnolls are a fractious lot. Maybe we could act as a fulcrum on such potential discontent..."

Sir Rodegar visually assesses the party and comments, "Aye. Taking on the entirety of Ga-awoo-tarr's forces would be too much for a small band, but yet, small numbers would serve well for clandestine endeavors."

Sir Rodegar suggests the party seek the counsel, and perhaps support, of Shandril at the Temple of Pelor, in the event they are serious about attempting to recover the pilgrims. "Know this though, there are no guarantees they haven't already been savaged. Many days have passed..." he says.

Sir Rodegar invites the adventurers to camp within the waystation and says his men will cover watch rotations to give the party an opportunity to rest at ease.

Folly wishes to know where the temple at which Shandril resides is. Also when the party is alone he suggests they keep a watch of their own anyway, just in case.

"Shandril may be found at the Temple of Pelor, in Fairhill," Sir Rodegar replies.

The Waymark sheriff relates to the party that Fairhill is one hard days' march northwest of the waystation, but contains several inns and taverns as reward for the effort. In the event the party decides to head to Fairhill, Sir Rodegar recommends the party find accommodations at The Drunken Cockatrice Inn. "Glarian's cooking makes it well worth the expense," he comments. However, he claims the ale at The Tavern of the Three Kegs to be the best in Fairhill, and among the best one might find in a much larger town. Finally, if coin is of concern, one may stay at The Cask and Flagon, though he does not recommend doing so if it can be avoided.

Should the adventurers ask about Hobb's Ferry, Sir Rodegar will inform them it is about a half days' journey from the waystation. There is a small keep there, the abode of a semi-retired knight, Sir Hobb. In addition to the keep, there are a few outlying buildings, to include a small inn, The River's Daughter, which is of acceptable quality. As the name suggests, Sir Hobb operates a ferry for travelers to and from the holding of Byrn, in the mountains south of the Graywash River. Sir Hobb maintains a small militia to protect his holdings, but has been known to hire the services of adventurers from time to time.

"In any event, you will be well attended at Fairhill or Hobb's Ferry, as both often have need of adventurers," Sir Rodegar claims.

The bounty paid, Fairhill seems the destination they should head for.

"Are we all agreed? Do we wish to try Fairhill, and talk to the Priestess there about the pilgrims?"

To be honest, he is very open to any destination anyone should suggest.

"At worst, it's a place to spend our money and have some fun," Ullian agrees.

Clatterstones readily agreed to set Fairhill as the company's destination. It was, after all, nearer than Hobb's Ferry to the ruined keep which drew them here in the first place, but he said nothing of that in earshot of the sheriff and his patrol.

Clatsi measured out the coins from the bounty and hesitantly observed, "The accounting is a shade off kilter, assuming we're using standard arithmetical methods." The little gnome is helpful in counting coins for each to get his or her full share.

He didn't attend the burning of the wanted criminals. Instead, he settled down in the Waystation and, with great care and mounting curiousity, perused Corian's tome of spells.

"I will take first watch, does anyone want to take second?"

 We should only need one guard per shift, given the proximity of the sheriff and his men.

While not flush with cash, Folly was looking forward to spending some of their coin in the town. A hot bath, and maybe a second hand lute would do wonders to cheer him up, and he needed to refill his skins with ale.

The party establishes their own watch rotations and settles in for the night. It is an uneventful night.

Sir Rodegar's patrol wake before dawn and set out before first light. He wishes the adventurers well and departs with little fanfare, his company headed back to their homes in Fareme.

The adventurers have other travel plans. Their path leads north, toward Fairhill. They attend to morning rituals, break camp, and set out a short time later. A full travel day lays ahead and a homecooked meal, a frothy tankard of ale, and a soft bed awaits.

The landscape becomes wide, open rolling hills with the Stoneheart Mountains looming large in the distance. The party traverses numerous small creeks through the course of the day, but their travel is otherwise uneventful. They don't see another soul all day long, though they do spot of a large group of deer bounding away at one point, several birds of prey patrolling the skies (none appear raven-like), and a the remnants of deer carcass at the side of the road a few hours in.

In any event, as dusk approaches, the party spots the village of Fairhill in the distance...

OOC: Please see Fairhill Notice for the broad overview. You may post intentions here, etc. but I intend to open a new in-game thread for Fairhill stuff.

Every step away from the burned out way station and the tomb of the buried family (Gods rest their souls) improves Folly's mood. Life and death go hand in hand, but such a death was a foul blight on the normal rhythm of things, in his mind.

He remains quiet most of the day, nibbling on dry rations on occasion, giving the birds a discerning and sharp eyed glance, he really only speaks at the corpse of the deer, as he wondered what might of killed it, and how long ago.