A few days on the road, and they are in Sanzi.

The road is probably overbuilt for what it connects, just a series of little farming settlements.  But it was built by Dwarves, and Dwarves do not have anything in their vocabulary meaning "overbuilt".  There is also a belief among the farmers they pass that somehow the physical presence of the road, straight and solid and apparently imbued with the Dwarven sense of Order and Purpose, helps keep the fury of the Chaos Storms at bay.

It seems possible.  The land is a full of bizarre stone crags and outcroppings, and although these become fewer as the party travels west, they also become fewer close to the road.  The road traverses a strip of normality through a surreal landscape- along it, except for the strangely controlled chaos of the Chaos Farms, things are amazingly normal.

There's no traffic.  So soon after a Chaos storm, the people are busy tending their new crops.  These vary from farm to farm.  No two are alike, and a few leave people puzzled, wondering, "what the hell is it this time?".  There are plants from a variety of regions and environments, some as obvious as the watermelons, and some not.  One farm has a fine new orchard of rapidly growing Ginkgo trees.  They are far from fruited, and the farmers have no idea what they are, having never seen Ginkgoes before.

But all that is behind the party now.

Upon reaching Sanzi, a very square and blocky looking place where the streets all run straight, they quickly establish that through Arcto of Deluzion Break they "volunteered" to help the Baron of Sanzi on his exploration mission, as explorers of skill are in short supply.

The Baron does not have a huge palace.  He has a rather solid looking fortress.  It's not built for housing many guests but he does have a few guest rooms, which his butler, who greets the party, gives over to the party for their use.

The butler is a Dwarf.  Sanzi looks like a very mixed town- Humans and Dwarves.

"You may make yourself at home, rest and be comfortable, the Baron will meet you all and speak with you at breakfast, which is at the third morning bell."

The butler seems completely unmoved by the fact that one of the party is a Dragonborn and another an... Otterborn?  And Fairies?  The expression on the Dwarf's face seems to say:  Arcto sent them, so I will ask no questions, no matter what they look like.

Along the way, Leysa stopped here and there to measure the distance from the road to the ne3arest monolith to stone. She did not yet make any conclusions about the effect of order and distance seemed to have on the presence of chaos. She wondered if there were any local chaotic effects that would apply: an orcish village perhaps? She also took a few notes about various crops: drawing leaves, fruits when available, and whole plants if possible.

The sight of civilization set her musings aside. It would be nice to sleep in a soft bed for a night or two. Upon being assigned a room, she waited to see if the fairies were given their won space. If not, being the only other female among the grooup, she invited them to share her room. Then, she stripped off a few layers and stretched out into the bed to rest until summoned to breakfast.

Fenranir looked at the farms they passed, idly wondering what crops they might each yield, making a game of guessing to himself to what they might be, though he had no way of really finding out. Still, it was a fun way to pass the time and keep his mind creative.

Once they reached Sanzi, he seemed a little less tense, like he felt a bit more at ease not being 'in the wilderness'. The place was a little...bland and safety-based for his personal preference, but it was better than nothing.

Upon being shown their rooms, he opened his mouth to make a comment but then better of it. Instead he simply shrugged and said, "Rest well, all. Let me know if you need anything."

Lysander enjoyed the company of the others, and opportunities to see new sights, but he was looking forward to some alone time, although he did miss the the dulcet sounds of the sleeping drag... oooh, he was so looking forward to time to think about new songs and poems.

Daladain enjoyed the road trip. He had never spent so long outside of a city. The wild places seemed to have their own rules, but he didn’t yet understand them. Yet, they spoke to him, deep down, they lacked the rigid order of a city, the straight lines of normality. Maybe wild chaos was where he was meant to be...

Soon they arrived at Sanzi. It was exactly what he had expected from Dwarves - straight lines, solid construction, order everywhere. He disliked it, but did his best to hide his feelings, wary of being rude to their new hosts. Instead he gracefully accepted the offer of a bed, a bath and some fresh food.

Actually the bed was most welcome of all. He had never owned a bed as a child, and this one was soft and inviting. Shortly after retiring he was snoring gently.

They rest until breakfast.

Probably a good move, as Sanzi is not known for its exciting night life.  It's far too orderly and organized for that.  No noise at night, hard working people are trying to sleep!

But the town is up early, and eagerly begins a new day.  Somewhere, dogs bark to announce their presence to each other.  And there is breakfast.

The Dwarves of Sanzi are lucky, in a way- they live alongside a Human population.  Dwarves are well known for many crafts, but farming is not one of them.  You never hear "No one grows cabbages the way those Dwarves do*!".  It's a Human thing... even more so for Halflings, but those are rare.  There are also the nearby Chaos Farms that supply an unpredictable and ever changing assortment of produce.  So the Dwarven range of edibles, typically limited, is quite expanded here.

Still it wouldn't be a Dwarven breakfast without some standards, like the heavy, hearty bread that can best be described as structural.  Baron Sanzi is cutting off hefty slices with the aid of what looks to be a battleax, but is the slightly lighter, less deadly offshoot, the Dwarven breakfast ax.

Baron Arbov is not what comes to mind when one pictures a Dwarf.  He's the bearded, grizzled chunk type, at least.  He's young.  Young Dwarves are seen away from their settlements so rarely that some people forget they exist.  Arbov is a teenager.  Unless one is familiar with the lives of Dwarves, it would be hard to pin down his age, but if he were human... teenager, definitely.

He greets the party warmly.  "Welcome, welcome!  You are the explorers sent by Arcto, yes?"

"I am an explorer, but I was just swept along," Tarhoon says.

Arbov gives him a funny look.

"The rest of us come from Arcto!" Petunia announces.

Arbov gives her a funny look.  "Arcto certainly sent... quite the range.  This will be interesting.  Let's have breakfast.  I have Dwarven fare, our bread, as well as the famous sausage and radish pie, and there are other things as well.  Montabon oat-mush, dried fruit from the last farm cycle..."

"Excellent sweetener for the oat mush"  a table servant notes.

"And they have made Om-al-lots which is an egg thing they do in Pomera.  With your aid, I will finish the quest my father left me.  You are seasoned explorers, yes?"

[8 blank lines suppressed]

*To be fair, there are some exotic Dwarven farming tricks.  Like growing giant radishes so that they be harvested by digging up from below, from special tunnels placed beneath each row of crops.  It's a mind boggling technique, and there are suspicions that the Dwarves who do it really get no advantage out of it, other than being able to squeeze some tunnel engineering into the job of vegetable farming.

"I normally would like the taste of fruit this time of morn,
But I'll try the Om-al-lot if it will not bring me scorn."

Leysa smiles congenially at the dwarven lord as she sits. A moment later it occurs to her that she might not have been invited quite yet when they are invited to sit. Growing up among a fey court or rural dragonborn community had its disadvantages, it seemed. Still, she tucked into the pie and had some oat-mush with dried fruits. As she ate she confirmed their nature, "Aye, we are explorers. Veteran... perhaps in time, but experienced none-the-less. Our journey here was fresh information at the very least. The Deluzion Break is a very unique ecosystem." Leysa mused a second then decided that business could wait a few moments. She chewed a tasty purple/red fruit with many small black seed in it with a smile. "I am Leysa. Some call me The Emerald. I am a dabbler in the powers of nature and inexorably curious. The rhymer is Lysander, a bard and a perpetual source of joy and, slightly more occasionally, wisdom. That is Daladain, an arcanist and excellent companion. And Fenranir, a doubty warrior though I have not known him long. They are Petunia and Firefern, fairies extraordinaire. I am not entirely sure what use fairies have, but they seem exemplary examples of it. The last companion is Tarhoon. We picked him up along the way. A wayward explorer cornered by Windrazors. He's proven rather interesting." She left our where tarhoon was from in case that would cause problems but would not oppose revealing it if the man himself chose to do so. She looked with open curiosity at Arbov.

Fenranir woke up refreshed and stretched lazily. He hadn't had the privacy to sleep in the nude for a while. He cleaned up a bit and then got dressed. He headed out of his room and followed the smells of...well, maybe not deliciousness, but edible and drinkable things.

He walked in and nodded to all there. "Good morn, all!" he called out cheerfully and then more respectfully he said "Greetings, Baron.".

He sat down at the table, gathering up some food and digging in, not seeming to care that fare was more 'dwarvish'.

He glanced over at Leysa, who was talking...and smiling? Interesting. He perked up and gave a small smile and another nod when he was introduced.

"You're probably curious about what I have planned," Baron Arbov says, as he personally makes sure everyone gets a piece of Dwarven bread whether they ask or not.

"Exploring?" Petunia asks.  She lands delicately next to the slab of bread the Dwarf gave her, and gives it a careful test kick.

"Exploring!" Arbov says exuberantly.  "I think my father knew something.  The rock weir of Bear Face Mountain, that's no natural feature!"

"The Rock What?"  Petunia asks.

"Weir," says the Baron.

"Bear Face Mountain, you said," Petunia says.

"Right.  The Weir there."

"We're there?" Petunia asks.

"Oh... no... no... Rock Weir.  A kind of dam like structure.  This one may look natural, but it was cut, my father said.  And I went there, and yes, it was cut!  Do you know that means?"

From the sound in the young Dwarf's voice, it is supposed to mean something very important.

But he continues, pausing only briefly after his rhetorical questions.  "You don't make a cut like that unless boats are supposed to use it regularly.  The river from here... that led somewhere, once.  It must have.  Do you realize, that if you trace the navigable waterways of the Great River and its tributaries, the heart and soul of transport inland, the place they come closest to the navigable waterways of the coast is very nearby?"

"Excuse me," says Firefern, the other Faerie.  "Not that I am an expert geographer by any means, but isn't a mountain range dividing us from that?"

"There must have been a way across it once," the Dwarf says.  "A long time ago."

Tarhune speaks up.  "Well the place I come from is... well... similar.  And there is a way, because I took it, that's how I got... well not to here, that's complicated.  But to my equivalent of here."

Leysa sniffed the bread once then took a bite. She finished it after adding fruit meant for the oat mush. She listened to the conversation about the exploration and her lips curled at the rather comical misunderstandings. She was getting a better idea of what fairies were for. She thought that she understood. Tarhoon's interjection was interesting as well.

"Sooo... If I understand rightly, you want us to locate this path through the mountains? A bit of trailblazing combined with archaeology and cartography? Hmmm..."

She looked around her group of companions and raised a brow ridge at them. "IF the others are up for it, then so am I. We'd need supplies, maps, and a couple other odds and ends."

"The beautiful dragonborn is right,
for with out maps we'd not last a night.
With proper tools to guide the way,
we are more sure to win the day."

Fen listened intently while he ate, his eyes darting back and forth between the speakers. He gave a small snort of amusement but rolled his eyes and then shook his head at the slightly amusing misunderstanding. He briefly looked upwards as he pondered the Baron's words.

He glanced at Leysa when she spoke up. He gave a light shrug and then nodded. "Sure. I'd be willing to go along."

"That's good to hear," Arbov says.  "You have what you need?  Boots, equipment?  Where we are going, it will not be easy to refresh our supplies by stopping in the next town.  I have supplies arranged, good Dwarven edibles that will be undaunted by time or damp."

"I have a stick," Petunia offers.

"So you do," the young Dwarven baron observes skeptically.

"Explorers use them.  So I am ready." the Fairy says proudly.

The Dwarf sighs.  "A band such as this there has never been. I have never known Fairie folk.  Or.. honestly, neither have I seen the Dragon Born nor... Lutran?"

Tarhoon nods.

"Sanzi is not the largest of towns," Baron Arbov says.  "But it is a solid and hard working frontier place where people are practical*.  If you need to prepare or acquire anything further, as we search for a path through the mountains, if it cannot be found here it can be made here.  Err... within modest reason, of course.  This isn't exactly a center of high wizardry.  I expect to take about a month.  If we have gone two weeks and found nothing of use again, we shall turn back.  Exhausting ourselves will be of use to no one."


*From a Dwarf, this is very high praise!

Fen looked between the speakers idly as they went back and forth again. Then his eyes widened and his eyebrows shot upwards. "A month?" He frowned slightly and looked down, chewing on his lip. "I think I may need more rations and water for that long of a journey. I wasn't prepared for a much longer journey list this."

He glanced at the others, wondering if he was the only one unprepared.

Leysa raised an eyebrow at the extended date, but shrugged. Such a time in the wilderness didn't bother her in the least. Still, the notion was a bit of a surprise. She tilted her head back and began to consider the supplies they would need to survive for a month. "Do you want to plan for foraging off the land at all? A month's worth of anything, even things as delicious as dwarven bread, is not a heart-warming thought. Tolerable but not appealing. Well, I am sure I can find the necessary provisions here." Leysa slowly tucked her chin to look down at her self and sighed, "A decent suit of armor wouldn't go amiss at this point either. But I expect your good folk cannot spare such should they even have it."

OOC: I think we can assume we are on board. Can we provision off-screen?

"The trip, it sounds amazing,
but there're right about the grazing,
for to travel far requires us to eat,
And while the bread's a start,
when the matter comes to heart,
We are going to need a lot more of meat."

Daladain listened carefully to what was being said. Actually, he ate quietly and pretended to be listening while trying a range of dwarves delicacies, some were tasty, some were... functional. After eating a slab of dwarf bread he felt that a sojourn to the garderobe might be in order, maybe with some rising material to pass the time.

His ears pricked up at the discussion of an expedition. That sounded interesting! Though he was a city boy at heart he had found the wilds of this land to be most refreshing. “I’m in.” he stated simply. As the conversation turned to provisions he thought about his apparel. “Will it be cold? Maybe we might need some new warmer clothes for our journey.”

The Baron will handle provisions for the journey, of course.  But the gang quickly learns, this implies Dwarven trail food.

Dwarven trail food, it is said, may be bland, and may sit in one's stomach like the foundation wall of a good Dwarven fortress, but what it lacks in flavor it makes up for in ballistic qualities.  A single small loaf of Dwarf bread can last a traveler for a month, but this is mostly the traveler will scrounge for find something else to eat for most of that month.

Tarhoon is not put off, he's fairly certain he can supplement with living off the land.  He claims he is an expert.  The Faeries, however, are definitely worried.

Fortunately even a Dwarf does not live on bread alone.  Baron Arbov has Dwarven salami, and dried fruit prepared for the journey.

Cold weather clothing is another story.

Montebon, merely by virtue of latitude, ought to have a warm climate, "Humid Subtropical", not unlike that of the southeast US, Uruguay, or the east coast of Australia.  But instead, it is very mountainous, and temperature drops off with elevation.  Inland, one can find some of the most tropical snow covered peaks in the Southlands.  Even a small glacier or two.

Of course, Arbov seeks a usable trail, and has reason to believe one exists.  Up and over peaks is not a usable trail.  Still, it can't hurt to be prepared.

The party can acquire heavy bedrolls and wool cloaks (produced by some of the same llamas you passed along the way) in the town, as well as other items.

As in most small towns, the shops aren't stocked except for the most routine of items, and imports.  It's a matter of telling them what you want, and they make it for you.

The experience of journeying cross country through the Chaos lands is worth an experience level, everyone goes up one! 

Lysander looks forward to the journey, knowing that life is a journey.

((Bard's are better than I thought))

Leysa moves among the shops and farmers of the small town and gathers what she thinks will be useful: a length of rope, food, water, a small pot, and materials for making a fire. She also, probably fruitlessly, looks for a good set of armor.

Leysa finally got her second level of Warlock. Good to go.

Fenranir purchased some more rations, since he wasn't sure if he could subsist on bread alone, never mind dwarven bread. And he knew he wasn't exactly the hunter-gatherer type in the wilderness, so he wanted to be prepared. He wished he had more money and the chance to buy better armor, but that was a job for Future Fenranir.

He made himself ready and showed up when they were ready to leave.

OOC: Bought 10 more days of rations.

Do we need to buy the heavy bedrolls and wool cloaks (and if so are they normal book prices? Do they provide better benefits than a normal bedroll and cloak?

We will just assume the characters get some good llama wool jackets and bedrolls.  Tracking all the copper pieces is not necessary.  They are inexpensive here, thanks to the local llama population.

Tarhoon asks the Baron how many of his own troops will be coming along, and gets a surprising answer.

"Well, first of all, here in Montebon the nobles are not permitted to have private armies.  A few guards, that's it, the rest are Montebon national troops... even if they are here under my command.  All belong to the nation, not the nobles.  One of our very modern rules.  Oh yes, we may seem a slow mountain kingdom, but we have some very modern rules.  Since they belong to the nation, I cannot just drag them away from their defensive duties on a whim.  And we always obey the rules here."

"Well I suppose public order is a worthy thing," the Otter-man muses.

"Worthy!  I should say so!  We live in the path of Chaos Storms, we need all the Order we can get!" Arbov explains excitedly.

Tarhoon is curios.

"So.. you're own adherence to Law somehow affects the natural chaotic forces of this land?"

"Strange, but yes, that's exactly what it does."

The Faeries look a little guilty.  There's a touch of Chaos with every one of their kind, and they know it.

"Now the second reason is a matter of the local habits," Arbov says, getting back to the questions.  "You know we have a reputation for working hard at our occupations, we Dwarves... and it's a trait that's passed on to the Humans of this land.  Hard work makes for good living.  So... it's not easy getting people to give up their livelihoods for this sort of thing.  I'm a nobleman, so in a way I have no livelihood... I'm also young, so I'm expected to do things like this.  And my father.  He was an explorer.  So for me, it's expected.  For most people here, it's a foolish distraction from the things they have to do."

"So do we have any help?" Petunia asks.

"Oh yes, yes we do!".

And what the young Dwarf means is this:  he has a boat chartered for the first part of the journey, a fishing vessel whose captain has, thanks to some Dwarven compensation, found good reason to take a brief break from his regular labors.

Despite the presence of so many Dwarves, seafarers here, as in most places, tend to be Human.  There's a simple fact of nature here:  the same short stature that gives Dwarves such an advantage in mines is a handicap on the water.  They have less leverage, it's harder for them to do tasks like rowing oars or taking in lines.  Those long Human arms can be useful.  A Dwarf might not notice it at first.. they do tend to be strong... but soon, they notice that so much of what they are doing is just easier for the Humans.   So they go back to smelting metal, or some other more Dwarven pursuit.

The boat will go upriver, the first leg of the journey.

Finding garments that fit her size and body proved problematic. As much as she hated wearing items on her feet, she recognized that even her draconic heritage would be susceptible to frostbite. Thus, a few custom pieces would need to be managed. Luckily, she found dwarven practicality and ingenuity when presented with a problem up to the task. She simply had to find a clothier who would accept the challenge of her size and form.

The rest, it would seem, was much less comforting. It seemed that they would, again, be mostly on their won. Adventuring and exploring were not normal tasks for a people obsessed with the normal.

She understood it; it didn't bother her.

She would simply go about her way gathering the things she would need. That thought sparked another and she glanced at the fairies, "And you? Will you be coming? Will you need cold weather gear?" Personally, she valued the chaos fairies brought with them. A healthy balance of order and chaos seemed best.

Are we actually moving forward or still chatting in Arbov's hall?

Lysander says to Leysa,

"The cold will hit you hard
It reaches to your core,
The feeling in your feet
Might make you shake some more.

The warmth you feel from friends
Will reach into your heart,
Especially the ones
Who've know you from the start."

Fen quirked an eyebrow at the Baron's answer about troops. Unsurprisingly practical for a dwarf. If the Baron had troops that could be spared, he would be likely to hire adventures to aid him in his quest. Though, it wasn't totally out of the question, if he was hiring ones experienced with what his tasks involved. Fen wasn't sure that was the case though.

He eyed the boat critically - but didn't know much about boats so assumed that everything was as it should be or the Baron wouldn't be stepping foot on it. He smiled slightly, though, as this meant less walking for him, at least for a while.

He glanced from Leysa to the fairies, curious about the answer.

Petunian and Firefern look at each other.

"There are such things as Frost Fairies," Firefern says.

"But we are not them," Petunia finishes.

Firefern goes on.  "Fairies in general are strongly attached to their environment.  For us, woods and fields and meadows.  The edges of places.  But these are changeable places, and we live through summer and winter, even in places where the winter brings snow.  If it is no worse than that, we will not have a problem."

"If it is worse than that perhaps someone will share a coat," Petunia adds.

"Fortunate," Baron Arbov says.  "I do not think the artisans here produce things small enough for you."

"Oh, there are a few in Montabon City that do!" Petunia says.  "And one even in Stonebell!  They know us in Stonebell.  In Montabon City... Arcto sends letters explaining what we need, and says it is for dolls.  They must think there are fanatical doll collectors living around the Breaks.  But we also make things ourselves, which is important, because even for dolls.... most Humans and Dwarves simply cannot knit socks that can fit us."

Sleeping bags, on the other hand, are easy to acquire for them.   A knit sweater is sufficient.

*************

When packed and ready the group heads out.  The boat has to be rowed or poled upriver, but fortunately, the river is not too swift.  Poling is actually easier, in most places, because it is shallow.  Ocean going ships would never work here.

It takes two hours to leave civilization, that is, to pass the outermost of the farms surrounding Sanzi.  Most of the farms here aren't "chaos farms"; the force that comes from the east coast and blows inland seems to lose much of its potency by the time it reaches this river.

"The Chaos winds are weak here?" Tarhoon asks, observing the changed landscape southwest of the city.

"It seems so," Baron Arbov says.  "Perhaps the force of chaos is sapped by our stalwart discipline and stubbornness.  But we will find it again in our journey.  When we are well away from Sanzi."

"Such an odd thing, like the storm embodies some mental energy, to be driven simply by your personalities.  It is hard to believe."  Tarhoon says.

"And yet it is proven.  It is the reason the people of the region invest in llamas."

And you do see some, wandering in fields near the town.

Past the farm the river winds around forested hills, and then into a broad and very peaceful looking valley, though mostly what you see are the trees along the river.  That, and the bird life here, which is plentiful.  Kingfishers and egrets patrol for fish.

"I take it there are some dangers here," Tarhoon says, "or you would not have wanted help so much?"

"Oh this is true," Arbov says.  "Only, I cannot forewarn you as to what it might be.  The creatures of this valley are known to us, and are mostly of the ordinary types.  Bears.  Big cats.  But though the Chaos Storms are weak here, they are strong nearby, and things brought in by the portals those storms open are a constant danger.  And those, you know, well, I have no way of predicting!"

As we move down the river, Lysander will play a tune on his lute and sing a song about, what else, floating on a river.

Fenranir was fine with being in a boat. It wasn't a huge boat, which would have been better. Or a really nice luxury boat or something. But at least it wasn't like the boat was tossed about all the time, making him want to hurl. He actually had heard of seasickness but hadn't tested if he was himself yet.

He glanced at the Baron and the faeries as they discussed the forces of chaos and possible things to stave it off. Llamas? He frowned lightly but refrained from comment. He perked up a bit when they discussed the possible 'dangers' that might be ahead. The unknown. Invigorating.

"How far til we get to the area where the...unpredictable...might start to show up?"

Leysa was satisfied at their preparation and the readiness of the fairies. Push coming to shove, she'd happily share her jacket with them. She hesitated a moment when getting on the boat as she briefly recalled being caught in a chaos storm which blew her ashore long ago. Or maybe not so long ago? Still, she sits still as snow while the boat moves and watches the shores creep past.

"It will be good to return again to the wild. I cannot say that I am overly fond of chaos storms or their effects, but I do find comfort in the wilder places. I've a bit of the fey in me as well. In a manner of speaking."

Leysa hummed along to Lysander's song and enjoyed the time as it passed.

Lysander was pleased to see Leysa almost seem content and humming along.  It was nice when she was peaceful and it bode well for the trip ahead.

Between songs, he said to her,

We've travelled far together on someone else's task,
but after all this travel, there's something I would ask,
In your life do you feel you made the time for others?
Have you looked at friendships or being someone's mother?

Leysa blinked at Lysander's question. An idle finger reached up to scratch at her chin for a minute then she shrugged, "I am doing what I want to be doing. I have friends. Any desire for family is a distant, unformed thing." She reclined again and now seemed lost in thought as she stared at the horizon.

He smiles, but there is confusion on his face.

Though a city boy at heart, Daladain was quite enjoying the wilds. Cities had a certain order, a structure, no matter where they were. But the wilds were free, they had their own rules and didn’t care about human regulation. Chaos live free here...

"If I knew where the unpredictable would show up it would be predictable, in a way, wouldn't it?" Baron Arbov says.

The boat is handled by a trio of experienced boatmen, used to the coast of Sanzi and the Breaks.  Although few people ever come up this river, they have, before, and they know it as well as anyone can.

"It isn't a clear cut line," the eldest of them says.  "The area of the Chaos Storms just kind of tapers off from more, to less, to very few.  I suppose you could mark a line at 'none at all' but then, how we do know it's just so infrequent that no one has seen it yet?  I've seen it hit Sanzi itself hard a few times.  There was the storm of 'thirty two.  Brought the biggest swarm of muskrats anyone has ever seen, and in colors that muskrats don't normally appear in."

"Blue?"  Petunia asks experimentally.

"Among others, bright sky blue," the boatman says.

"Goodness, what happened to them all?"

"You know Dwarves.  They had most of them skinned and they sold off the fur as exotic magical rabbit."

****

They float on.  Meadows, forest, hills... getting hillier all the time, and at times it's hard pushing to get the boat past a swift spot.

And then there is motion, to the right of the boat:  A single Goblin, with a peculiar garish helmet featuring a bright red winged point on the top.  He is running towards the boat, shouting.

"Stop!  Forbidden!  Our river!  Not yours!"

Fen rolled his eyes discreetly. He'd been asking for more like an estimation or at least some idea of how far away it might be, but the answer he got unfortunately depressing and annoying. He shrugged it off and didn't follow up on it. No sense in ruffling feathers.

Others talked and the boat moved on, until....a goblin appeared and yelled at them. He reached for his weapons but then glanced at the Baron. "How are you wanting to have this handled?"

The Baron is not happy to hear a Goblin laying claim to territory that clearly belongs to the kingdom of Montebon.   Of course, no one ever bothered to negotiate borders with the scattered tribes of Goblins and others that are scattered across the wilderness.  Just the other civilized states.  So perhaps some confusion is understandable.

"We are in the kingdom of Montebon!"  the Baron shouts back.

"Disreputable beasts, Goblins," Tarhoobn says quietly.  "But this far east?"

Goblin math is not very abstract.  They tend to evaluate things on a purely practical scale.  Thus, the Goblin does not see five or seven or eight party members.  The Goblin sees Too Many party members.  It might be ready for a fight, but not ready to lose a fight.  That's a different thing.

The Goblin comes to a stop.  "You will be defeated," it says.

"I don't think so," the Baron says.

"Not now.  But you will." the Goblin says.

Daladain stepped forward with his hand raised. He addressed the goblin directly. “Excuse me, sorry to disturb, I’m a stranger in these lands. You say that you claim these lands. Who, if you don’t mind me asking, is you? Do you belong to a particular tribe or settlement or suchlike?”

He looked around carefully to see if the goblin had companions hidden away. “Or is you simply... you?”

Leysa was snapped from her reverie by the manic shouting. She regarded the brightly hatted goblin askance then shrugged and listened as the exchange moved forward.

Fenranir thought about joining in the on the shouted conversation but decided against it. There were already several voices involved and 'too many cooks' as the saying sort of went. He kept his eyes peeled as he scanned around, both on shore and, after a moment, away from it as well just to be safe.

19:49, Today: Fenranir rolled 21 using 1d20+3.  Perception.

Lysander was almost gleeful about the exchange.

The Goblin does not feel like sticking around to answer questions.  He is only one* and the party is many.  Having only just emerged from the woods to harangue the party, he is back into it at the first sign of "damn, they're not buying it."

The Dwarven baron looks to the Elf for what he sees in the forest, as the stories of Elven perception in forests are well known.

"Anything?"


" I think we scared him!" Petunia says, proud of the role she imagines herself playing in that scaring.

"Goblins are never just one, though," Firefern says.

"If there are no others about I would just as well continue the mission.  Perhaps he was bluffing trying to get a bribe out of us," Baron Arbov says.  "Goblins are a nuisance, but one.. or even a dozen... I do not fear that."


*Ogres are very different in their thinking about this.  Where a Goblin would think "I am just one" and then mentally figure the odds, an Ogre would think "I am just one and they are..."  and then realize that counting makes his head hurt, and that's not fair, so he should hit these people who made him count.  Ogre math is simple:  the correct answer to any problem is exactly what the strongest, toughest, meanest Ogre (or on rare occasion, non-Ogre) present says it is, no more and no less.

Fenranir watched the goblin retreat and scanned slowly around. He glanced at the baron and then shook his head. "For the moment....there was just the one that I saw." He gave a little shrug. "Not to say there aren't more, just that I don't see them. Yet."

"Well, be there one, or be there many
are there really suppose to be any?
Maybe we should stop and give it chase?
Or do you think we cannot keep pace?"

Leysa regarded the creature as it scampered back into the woods then shrugged, "I don't begrudge it existence. Neither will I seek to deprive it of that existence for things it may have done we know nothing of or things it might do hereafter." She relaxed back into her spot to contemplate the river as they continued on.

Daladain shrugged as the goblin fled. “I say we continue on our journey, though we should be extra vigilant as he may return with friends.”

They continue the journey into the late afternoon.  Perhaps they could go longer, but there would be little point to boating at night, and besides, getting the boat upstream is hard work.  The sun still has a few hours left when the boatmen are tired.

Besides, this is a good point to stop, the Baron points out.

A natural rock weir interrupts the flow of the river, a ridge of basalt that many years of current has yet to wear down.  But the water flows easily through the large cut in the middle of it.  One does not have to be a Dwarf to suspect that the cut in the rock, easily big enough to allow Arbov's boat to pass, is not a natural feature, even though everything else certainly is.

The boatmen share in the belief that this is an artificial feature.

"The question is, where did the boats go, that once upon a time," one of the boatmen asks.  "You wouldn't cut a channel like that unless you were going somewhere, regular.  If it was a one time thing you'd just drag the boat over and save a lot of work."

"That's what I've come to believe," Arbov says.  "There is something up this river that is lost.  We are to find it."

"We're not here for any danger, I remind you," the leader of the boat crew says.

"That is true.  I will not bring you into that."

"There's already Goblins."

"One Goblin was all we saw," Arbov says.  "A nuisance.  If there are more.. well, they are miles behind us now.  Let us make a fire.  We'll have a good camp, and post watch... there just may be more Goblins about."

Daladain watched the shoreline as the boat worked its way upstream, keeping an eye for any sign of goblins as well as any other curiosities. He had little experience of boats, his first voyage had been the one across the sea where he had spent much of the time failing to keep down his lunch. The river was different, a smoother surface but with a jerky movement caused by the rowers. After a while he got used to it, but still preferred solid ground under his feet.

When they stopped he quickly hopped off, and helped as best he could, but after a stern look from one of the crew he decided that he was better off out of their way. He wandered away from the landing site and looked around, wondering what oddities they might spy next.

Fenranir found the rock with the boat-niche interesting. Not enough to consider for too long, but still, it raised some questions as the others pointed out. And he noted the Baron didn't point out that he brought adventurers along in case there WAS actually danger, but it was certainly right there for the noticing.

He got out of the boat and walked just a few feet away and gave a big full-body stretch, twisting this way and that a bit even to work out the kinks.

Then he said, "I'll take first watch."

"I will stand the last watch, prepared to give a warning,
And should it all be quiet, I will wake you in the morning."

Leysa had been lost in thought all that afternoon. Thoughts of goblins and stone features were far from her mind. Still, as they made for shore and the prospect of rest, she understood how much tension had built in her body from being so still in the boat all day. As such, while camp was built, she took time to stretch and walk about to work the fatigue and stiffness from her muscles and joints. Once finished, she sat quietly near the fire and nodded to Fenranir, "I'll join you on first watch then. Hmm, Daladain, could you take the second?" She then looked to Arbov and the boatmen and smiled, "Get your rest, sirs. You worked hard to bring us this far and deserve it. Besides, dwarves need all the beauty rest they can get." She cracks a grin at her jest and then turns her back to the fire to stare into the dark woods.

Daladain nodded, he was happy to take his turn in the watch cycle. For now he new that he needed to get some rest in order to be ready for his session, so he quickly set about sorting his billet. Once he had eaten he retired for the night.

The boat didn't move much faster than someone can walking.  But compared to someone trying to follow on foot, it's steady, and much more direct.  So in the remainder of the day it had covered what would take Goblins a long, long time.

But just maybe the Goblins are relentless and proud enough to put in the time and effort to punish this intrusion into "their" territory.  It takes a while, there is nothing until the early morning shift.

It's Lysander's watch, and there are drums from the forest.

Not many drums.  Two, maybe. A steady three beat rhythm.  BOOM boom boom  BOOM boom boom  BOOM boom boom.

Firefern the Fairy is startled awake by a drumbeat.  Fairies are by nature light sleepers and frequent nappers.  An adaption to living in deep forest and being a foot tall.

"Well if that's them they aren't really concerned with the elephant of surprise, are they?" the fairy asks while flitting over to Lysander.

"They may not be quiet, They might have some sass,
but it's time to get the others up off their grass."

Fen was awakened and it was found that he slept with a weapon in hand or close at hand, as when someone shook him, he instinctively brought a handaxe out for just a split-second. Then he relaxed and put it away. "Ugh. Morning already?"

Then he frowned after a moment. "Does...anyone else hear those...drumbeats, or is that my head?"

"We heard the drums, not in your head,
I woke you up so we won't be dead."

Daladain awoke. He stretched out his back, and scratched at an itch on his thigh where something small had bitten him. He disliked insects, especially the bitey ones. Maybe one day I will get a pet that liked to eat them, a lizard or bird or suchlike.

Then he noticed the drumming in the distance. He glanced around at his companions. "I'm guessing the goblins have taken exception to us being here. We should move quickly and carefully so as to not annoy them further. One or two is not so much of a problem, but if they return in large numbers then we could be in trouble."

He began to pack away his gear, ready for the off. Once done he retrieved some rations from his pack and began to munch on some dried meat and biscuits.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:58, Wed 30 June 2021.

Leysa roused as only someone who had spent her life in the deep woods. She was alert and scanning the darkness silently, the drums having registered instantly. Working quickly, she spoke the eldritch words required to cast a protection spell. "Aye, seems they want to have a word or two with us. We'll see what they have to say..."

Cast Shield of Faith.

The party rouses, one by one... though none had been sleeping particularly hard out here.

"OOh, drums," Tarhoon the otter-man says, rubbing his eyes.  "Is that bad?"

"Very," Petunia says.  "Poorly played, inconsistent volume, very out of tune, and they're not even keeping time with each other."

"We should do some reconnaissance and see what's coming," Tarhune suggests.

Baron Arbov is now up, and listening intently.  "Three of them," he says.  "Why would they need three drums?  And why even bother, all it did was alert us to their presence.  Seems foolish.  The furry one is right.  We need reconnaissance.  Elves are ideal for this, but we haven't any.  Lysander, you look like someone who is quick and stealthy."

There are such a thing as Dwarven Scouts, Dwarves who are quick and stealthy.  But they are relatively rare, a special thing among the Dwarves, and it is obvious Arbov isn't one of them.  He is, when prepared for battled, as is usual for his kind: a heavily armed and armored chunk of muscle.  He hurries into his mail shirt.

"Eyes I have to see what's there,
And ears I have to hear the air,
But hiding whilst I move about?
That is where they leave me out."


((All that to say I only get +2 to stealth and a speed of 30))

Fenranir quickly came to a more conscious state and got ready for the day - and possibly battle. The others were talking a bit and after a moment something that had been said hit him. He spun physically to look at the Baron. "What?!"

His eyes narrowed. "First off, that's racist." Then he thumped his chest and pointed at himself angrily, "Secondly, I AM an Elf, you blind -." He cut himself off before he called the Baron something insulting.

He made a disgusted noise as he whirled away and started heading to see what he could find out, muttering angrily as he went for a moment but then subsided to become stealthy.

Leysa made a clicking sound as the elf moved into the woods and then shook her head. She was more the stompy, twig-breaking type. Sighing, she looked to Lysander and pointed after the angry elf with her chin, "Help if you can, Lysander."

She then shifted her vision to Daladain, "Cast whatever protective magics you need now. I don't expect this to resolve peacefully. They are either too confident or too stupid." She neither spoke to nor gave instructions to the dwarf lord. That one could care for himself and it wasn't her position to give him orders. Not that she gave orders to the others either, more suggestions.

As the elf leaves, Lysander says:

"As your proceeding upon your way,
I know that good things come today,
and should you heed these words of mine,
I know that you will do just fine."

Grant Bardic Inspiration.

Daladain paused at the exchange between Fenranir and the dwarf lord. He was about to speak but held his tongue, knowing that his smart mouth had gotten him into trouble more than once in the past. Eventually he addressed the main issue. "I can be sneaky when sneaky is required. I am unarmoured and light on my feet. But I am not used to the wilds, I grew up with cobbles under my feet, not twigs and grasses. And should I be spotted my first reaction will be to run or hide, not fight. But if you want me to scout I will volunteer my services."

FYI - Speed 30ft, Stealth +5 and I know Invisibility spell!

Heading towards the source of the drums,  Fenranir and Daladain find something working in their favor: the noise of the drums.  Not only does it give away the location of the drummers, but no one standing near them is going to hear the approach of two stealthy scouts in the forest.

Pressing close, they make a strange discovery.







"I really hadn't noticed he was an Elf", the young Dwarven Baron says.

"Have you ever seen an Elf?" Tarhune asks.

"Well actually... it's rather remote in Sanzi.  Not in years.  They looked different.  Very pale hair. Like platinum spun into thread."

"Different kinds of people come to the Guesthouse at Deluzion Break," Petunia says.  "There are different kinds of Elves.  They come in more variety than Humans.  Some are green."

"Green, really?" Baron Arbov asks.

"Well mildly green.  Not highly green.  Like a tint."

There is a distant shout in the Goblin tongue. Tarhune translates for those who don't speak Goblin.  "He is saying, Wobnaz, take your troop and flank them from the right."

Baron Arbov readies himself, and looks off to the left.

"He said right," Petunia says.

"If it's their right its our left," the Dwarf says.  The Fairy nods, as it seems sensible enough.

Fenranir kept watching for a little bit longer, making sure there weren't more goblins coming or anything - but then began to make his way back to the group.

Returning with Fenranir, Daladain spoke quietly to the Elf.

Fenranir glanced over at Daladain after they moved out of earshot stealthily and he asked a question or two. He shook his head.  He paused and scratched his chin in thought.

Daladain raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Fenranir gave a shrug and spread his hands.

As the two scouts start to return, speaking quietly, the Goblins continue to do what they are doing. And then, a change. They hear some conversation from the Goblins, the drums briefly pause, and their attention is drawn to the Goblin troop.

Daladain glanced over at Fenranir, his eyes asking the more experienced scout for advice on what to do. Quietly he incanted a protective spell, hoping it would be be needed. In a low whisper he spoke to his Elf companion. What should we do? Do we take out these scouts now, follow them, or head back to this ship now?”


Cast Mage Armour on self.

Lysander says, you Leysa,

"I know the metal of which you are made,
I hope that my words will bring you some aid."

Bardic Inspiration
As a bonus action, a creature (other than yourself) within 60 ft. that can hear you gains an inspiration die (1d6). For 10 minutes, the creature can add it to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw. This can be added after seeing the roll, but before knowing the outcome.

Still surrounded by the protective energies of her Mage Armor spell, Leysa nods her thanks as the bard speaks words of encouragement. Seeing the scouts acting funny, she readied an eldritch incantation and eyed the woods.

Fenranir thought about things a moment. He looked over at Daladain.  He searched the man's face for confirmation.

He waited for an answer.

In reply to Fenranir (msg # 75):

Daladain whispered quietly to his fellow scout.

OOC - sorry for all the private chat, we're just trying to work out a plan!

Fen thought for a moment and then shrugged.  He looked around.

He then moved to try and hide himself, taking out his longbow.

10:07, Today: Fenranir rolled 22 using 1d20+5.  Stealth.