Ser Ragnall nods graciously to Fost. “Deal,” he replies.



"I also see it as a testament to the concept of magic serving man," Ser Ragnall adds. "A highway for travelers to minimize the natural dangers; how much faster did the light of Andraste spread on these marbled roads?"

The group settles down for the evening at the highway nook. They find a dozen pieces of batoned kindling left behind in the fire pit, which will save (at least a little bit) on their supply of kindling.

OOC: Erin has evening watch, and Fost/Ser Ragnall will alternate the two mid-watches. And Wendoll & Arnie will take the morning watch. The squishy mage gets to sleep uninterrupted.

Tyrus nods "Indeed, magic used well can do wonders." He looks at the captured mage "If it's used well." He chooses not to comment on Ser Ragnall's last response. Stopping for the night Tyrus stretches himself. "Well, this seems like a good place to rest. Is this going to be enough for a nice campfire?"

Tyrus stretches himself and takes a couple of steps. "Well, I guess I can go and look for some more wood nearby. Perhaps the honorable Ser Ragnall would be so kind and accompany me with a pot? We might find a stream or something nearby and we could make some stew."

"To start a fire, yes, but not to sustain it; we have some bundles of wood on one of the pack horses, but not enough to get us all the way to Kinloch," Ser Ragnall says as he climbs down from the cart. He pauses to check Fenwithe's condition, then adds, "As I'm sure you know, Tyrus, the magicks of your forebearers provided for the comfort of travelers forced to take shelter on the road."

As each member of the party enters the nook, they find that the temperature is comfortably mild - significantly cooler than the warm day that was the 26th of Bloomingtide. (The refreshing coolness at the start of their last adventure was fleeting and summer was back in full force by the time they left Lothering two mornings ago.) Tyrus does recall that some highway nooks are reflective of the season; they can't prevent the entry of snow or rain into the nook (which is why they're partially enclosed, so to speak), but the stones themselves warm or cool the area as needed to ensure the comfort of the traveler overnight. One could argue that it's a frivolous use of magic, but the result is a great blessing to any who must rest on the raised highway.

The templar opens the tumbrel gate and escorts Fenwithe into the nook. The apostate comments, "You haven't used your powers on me once this trip."

"I haven't needed to," Ser Ragnall quips, grasping the manacles that held the mage firmly. "'The Chains of Mahgran Mondravo', they're called, named for the dwarf who designed them. They're manacles designed to sever a mage's connection to the Fade while worn; drains your power, and prevents it from building back up."



“If you're wanting to save our wood stock, I’m happy to help, though I admit I'm not an accomplished 'gatherer,'” the templar says. “The lake is about a quarter mile or so off, so we can get water there if no stream is nearby.”

He pauses and looks Fenwithe up and down. “I could take you along with us to stretch your legs, but I’d rather not have to look after you while I’m helping the responsible mage prepare dinner,” he quips. Turning to the trio of warriors, he asks, “Could you keep an eye on him while I escort Tyrus about?”

Wendoll speaks up, "I am a scout by trade. I may be better suited to helping gather."

Ser Ragnall nods appreciatively. "Thank you."

OOC: Tyrus, please attempt a TN11 Cunning (Natural Lore) test, reduced to TN9 by Wendoll's assistance.

Hopefully, Tyrus wasn't trying to get Ser Ragnall away from the others to talk or something...if Tyrus insists on having Ser Rangall along, he'll relent and attend the mage, but the TN will revert to 11. Let me know in character (or, at least, in the OOC chat) before you roll.

Fost had listened attentively to the exchange and relaxed slightly when hearing about the magical manacles. He briefly wondered whether these used their victim's mana to empower themselves but quickly lost interest in something he truly had no idea about and would not be anle to grasp even if explained to him in detail. Suffice to know the effect. Then again, how would it be noticed if they no longer worked?
"How can you tell the manacles work? More important: what if they no longer do so? Would you notice?", he blurted, then realized thst it would probably be unwise to tell with Fenwithe to hear.
"Some day I hipe you'll tell me.", he thus added.

Tyrus listened closely to Ser Ragnall's explanation of the shackles, Mahgran Mondravo, a name to remember...
He nods and turns to Wendoll, "Yes, it might be better for you to come with me and bring Arnie, perhaps we can find something a bit fresher than hard tack and jerky." He nods towards their prisoner "It's probably better for you to stay with him." He says to Ser Ragnall before walking away with Wendoll.


I'll take Wendoll, I forgot that he was supposed to be my local guide and would probably know a little about scouting/nature.

Tyrus Morven rolled 12 using 3d6+3 with the AGE System with rolls of {6}, 2, 1.  natural lore.

Not being a seasoned traveler like the others and seeing how everyone got busy, Erin hesitantly looked around, before sitting down by the nook's entrance and announcing it as if it was her task. "I'll be standing by until it's time, all right?" She was virtually sparkling on her spot in the conviction that she was contributing while also staying out of the way of those who knew.

"It's no secret how it works, so I'm happy to share. The story of how we came to possess the manacles was recorded by one of the sisters of the Lothering Chantry in the middle of the last age," Ragnall explains in response to Fost's query. "It included excepts from Master Mahgran's journal concerning the manacles and details several lyrium-infused runes etched into the irons themselves. The runes, instead of being imbued with the power of the Fade for a set boon, draw that power from the nearest source - in this case, the mage enclosed in them. The dwarf also wrote that the manacles 'saturate' the mage with false-power, which doesn't allow him to fill his empty reserves - like an empty bucket with a hole in the bottom that appears to be full of water, it was told to me once. I can't say I understand it fully, but I can tell you it works very well."

Tyrus and his erstwhile guide retrace their steps to the nearest stairway to ground level, where they're able to gather a sufficient number fallen branches while Arnie scouts around with his snout. They also find a small stream, but it's not large enough to easily draw water from, so the trio make their way to the lakeshore, disturbing along the way a couple small murders of crows who were pausing for a drink. The crow caw at them in annoyance, but reform after the men pass...only to be annoyed by them again on the return trip. They return to the nook just as the sun touches the horizon.

With a knowing smile, Wendoll thanks Erin for "keeping watch" over the others as they worked. "We always need a pair of eyes looking outward."

Ser Ragnall helps Tyrus build the fire, making small talk in a low voice.

Tyrus had spend his time looking around the Ferelden countryside, stretching himself before returning to their campsite. Building a fire he notices Ser Ragnall approaching and helping him.

Ser Ragnall and Tyrus talk quietly together as they prepare the fire.

Tyrus drops some branches and takes another second to put them back.

Fost was a mercenary to the heart. And that meant: drink, eat and sleep whenever an opportunity presents itself. Because one never knew what could happen.
Since Erin had already offered to take first watch and he had the other covered with the templar Fost snug in his bedroll, weapons nearby, and soon slept.

There's a brief pause in the conversation, and Ser Ragnall looks back at the others.


The pair finish their work and light the fire, and hang a pot of stew for supper. The travelers eat well and then find their beds as Erin takes up her watch. Arnie lays down next to her, snoozing unless she stirs. Her watch passes by peacefully and she and Arnie wake Fost for his. The mabari is content to remain with the watchstander - partly because they're awake to give him scritches from time-to-time.

Fost warily watched being watched in turn. He picked up a pepple and threw it in the general direction of the birds wondering if they would react as normal birds would. And that would to fly away.
Strange this, he had never really seen ravens lured to a fire. Did not even know if these were night-active birds.

---

rolled 8 using 3d6+1 (5 stunt points) with the AGE System with rolls of {5}, 1, 1.  CUN, Nature/Ornitology.
Unless those SPs have any special effect, Fost is just as unlearned as he always is, lol

The ravens scatter, flying off in different directions away from the warning shot. As he considers his knowledge of the beasts, which is limited to the fact that he remembers only seeing them active in the day and that a group of them was called a "conspiracy," the re-alight on the far wall...and are joined by another five.

A conspiracy, indeed.

Arnie, for his part, is now standing, his head tilted to one side out of curiosity as he regards this strange invasion.

Feeling a bit foolish and anticipating to be mocked bybhis companion, Fost reached over to Wendoll and gently nudged him to wake him.

Once Wendoll was awake, Fost indicated the birds to him.
"Laugh if you will, but this strikes me as odd. So odd in fact that I'm starting to be concerned."

Not yet willing to raise the alarm Fost did reach over to his new blade.

It takes a bit for Wendoll to stir and focus on the scene, even as another half dozen ravens join the others in their vigil. And, it does seem to resemble some sort of midnight vigil, like the solemn observance of the night before Andraste's martyrdom.

As he sits up, the elf's assessment is a simple, "Huh." Wendoll's gaze shifts from the birds to the warrior and back, adding, "They haven't been aggressive at all?"

For his part, Fost does notice that each bird is acting independently. There's no pattern or synchronicity to their movements - the nook just has an audience...of nearly a score ravens at this point.

"That many? You call that natural?", Fost insisted. "At night?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Wendoll replies. "But, it's so weird it's captivating."

He pauses a moment in thought, then wonders as a few more join the conspiracy, "If they're just content to sit there and watch us, do we just...leave them be? Or do we try to shoo them away? Should we wake the mage?"

"Tried to make them fly away already.", a thoughtful pause, "Yes, better wake Tyrus.", he agreed, keeping his glance warily skimming left and right, trying to keep all winged guests in sight at once.

"I...think I'll wake the others, too, just in case...," Wendoll says.

Tyrus is comfortably dreaming about gathering firewood amongst babbling brooks during harvestide back home, a certain serenity blanketing him as he runs his hands along the fountaingrasses; suddenly a disturbingly warm gust disturbs his leisure, and an animal starts whining close by. It's strange, because he doesn't recall any spirits portraying animals in this part of the Fade. Sighing at the ruined ambiance, Tyrus pulls himself out of his dream and opens his eyes to find a mabari's broad snout dominating his vision. Arnie whines again and turns his head away, looking at something on the far side of the highway structure.

Meanwhile, Erin is gently awakened by a rocking of her shoulder, Wendoll stating, "Not an emergency, but something strange is going on."

As the pair stir and gather their bearings, Wendoll goes to wake the templar, who complains in his sleep about having to get up early for training before finally waking up.

Fost, keeping his watch, notices that more ravens have alighted, and some are now on the same wall as their nook, although none are closer than 6-7 yards from the camp. Erin and Tyrus immediately sight some three dozen ravens - most are lined up on the far highway wall, but some have taken up position on the adjacent wall.

Everyone hears Wendoll ask, "What are you doing up?"

And Fenwithe's response, "Hard to sleep in these things. Can't dream like I normally do. Interesting sight, isn't it?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:16, Fri 08 Dec 2023.

Tyrus, rather unhappy about being woken, groggily makes his way to wherever the hound was pointing. Still hearing the babbling of the brook in his mind he stops, noticing the scores of ravens.. or crows? He mixes them up all the time.
"Birds? You're waking me because of birds?" He looks a little longer "I give you they're pretty but..." his sentence trails off when he starts to get a feeling that something seems off.

BRAIN POWER ACTIVATE!
Nature lore: 16
Arcane lore: 10

13:23, Today: Tyrus Morven rolled 10 using 3d6+3 (1 stunt point) with the AGE System with rolls of {1}, 3, 3.  Cunning (arcane lore).

13:22, Today: Tyrus Morven rolled 16 using 3d6+3 with the AGE System with rolls of {6}, 4, 3.  Cunning (natural lore).

Rubbing her face, Erin looks at the birds while letting out a big yawn and suggests. "Is this the road all over again? Better birds than a bear, though."

Tyrus is quite certain this isn't a natural occurrence. Well, ravens do roost in their conspiracies at night and they do keep watch on strangers (i.e., non-ravens, especially predators), but, they don't fly to some remote location in the moonlight and observe a random group of travelers. No, there has to be some arcane or Fade element to this.

He's heard of mages using a combination of potions, runes, and training to tame and use birds for various messenger and surveillance tasks, but he's never done the research on how to create such a flock. He remembered a elf laetan who served a powerful magister that kept an extensive dovecote; he also knew just about everything about everyone in the city. These ravens remind him of that fellow.

From Erin's perspective, it feels like a Chantry service back home...with the party playing the role of the reverend mother's sermon.

Tyrus takes a step closer to the birds, without taking his eyes off he asks: "What have they've been doing? How long have you observed them?" He slowly goes down on one knee, reaching for a pebble lying around.