A Matter of Faith - part II

16th of Ambyrmont (first month of Autumn), Gromdain

The wheels of the covered carriage groaned as they struggled through the mud. The rain was growing steadily worse, soaking your clothes, and those of the rider on top of the carriage. Automn has finally arrived in Karameikos, and grey skies, sharp winds, and bad roads was the best you can hope for, until the weather will turn even worse once Winter arrives.

The old Patriarch takes refuge inside the carriage throughout the entire trip. He is an old man, and walking the entire distance to the last civilized settlement on the edge of the realm was behind his power, even if the weather was fine. Besides, sitting inside the carriage allowed him to travel incognito, with only a handful of loyal guards riding inside with him. He insisted on avoiding any attention, in fact. Any public movement would risk drawing more zealots from Kelvin, or even just multitude of devotees who would insist on traveling with him, which would make everything more complicated.

A few days into the journey, not long after passing the outskirts of Kelvin, you are forced to halt. The Duke’s road is blocked by several men in wet cloaks and worn leathers. They are all busy dragging bloated, limp bodies of goblins from the road. Dozens and dozens of them, the corpses turning the already muddy road into a grisly barricade.

What do you do?

The men looked up at you, water streaming from their hoods and cloaks. One of them, a broad-shouldered Traladran with a thick beard, approached, giving Miyana a wary eye when he sees her drawing her bow

"Goblins. They’ve been getting bolder and bolder. Seen all up and down the Duke’s Road lately. This lot probably thought they could raid the farms near Kelvin" he grunted, raising his voice over the raging rainstorm "Kelvin's men cut them down quick enough. They rode back into town like proud heroes, and left us to clean up the mess"

Another man muttered something under his breath as he rolled a goblin limb off the road.

"It’s gonna take us a bit to clear the path… unless you’re willing to lend a hand."

The next leg of your journey is nothing short of miserable.

The land north of Kelvin is even more sparsely populated. The tiny farms and roadside inns of southern Karaemeikos are now a distant memory, replaced by open fields surrounded by wild forests. The Duke’s road continues forward, cutting through the wilderness, but there is little life or civilization along it. The few scattered hamlets have dwindled, or are too far off the road to bother seeking them out. There is no warm inn and a cozy bed waiting for you at the end of the day.

The rain that hasn’t stopped since you left Specularum has only grown worse. Even the best of your cloaks are heavy and useless now. Your bedrolls are soggy, you are completely soaked, and there is no way to light a fire when there is no shelter or dry wood to be found

The Patriach rides in the covered carriage drawn by two exhausted horses, which offers him some protection from the elements, but its cramped and barely large enough for him and his two faithful retainers. Even he, wrapped in thick robes and sheltered from the rain, looks pale and weary. He offers you a prayer for your health each night, and you suspect that it is only due to divine intervention that none of you has succumbed to pneumonia by now, or worse.

This day has been just as bad as the last couple, but at least brightened by the knowledge that you can’t be more than a day travel from a roadside inn, where you might catch your breath for a while.

You pull off the road to make camp as best you can in a small clearing beside a rain-swollen stream. The ground is soaked, and even setting up a tent in the strong wind would still mean your bedrolls will end up in the mud.

What are your sleeping arrangements?

And more importantly, do you set up a watch, and who takes which one?

Miyana

You sit by the dim magical light Barns conjured up, all cold and wet, trying to stay alert through the miserable night. Then you hear it. Footsteps, just outside the edge of the light. Something is sniffing, like a large animal, but not quite. You can't see beyond the glare of the light, and whatever is out there is getting closer

What do you do?

A hulking figure lumbers out of the darkness, into the glow of the magical light. Towering nearly ten feet tall, with sickly green skin stretched over thick muscles and clawed fingers on his long arms. It doesn't stop to growl, or threaten them. Instead, it lunges forward with terrifying speed, straight for the nearest adventurer

The troll's thick hide deflects Will's blade, and the few wounds you manage to inflict begin to close almost instantly. The creature roars when a sudden burst of blinding light flashes in front of its eyes. It staggers and flails its massive arms in wide arcs. It snarls in frustration, disoriented and unable to see, before it decides to turn and flee into the darkness.

The troll is gone, and the rest of the journey passed without further danger, though not without hardship. By the time you reach Threshold you are all cold, soaked, and tired. The guards at the gate eye all of you with suspicion, especially those of you carrying weapons. They are all very jumpy, and warn you that Baron Theodorou enacted a curfew starting at sundown, and that no one is allowed on the streets after dark, without exception.

Once they wave you through the approach the closed carriage carefully, knocking on the sliding door so they could see who is riding inside.

What do you do?

Boudica

It takes Boudica a long while to track Moryana down. It is late in the afternoon and people are already hurrying inside before the curfew starts. That, and the pouring rain, means there is barely anyone outside to give her directions. She finally manages to find someone who knows where she is staying (luckily for her, Threshold is pretty small, and most everyone knows everyone). A few minutes later she finds herself in front of a door to a shabby Traladaran house.

What do you do?

OOC:
@WanderOne - Barns is an educated Wizard. Even a 'polymorph self' - a 4th-level spell!, doesn't allow one to take the form of a specific creature. Maybe an exceedingly powerful wizard managed to invent a more powerful spell that does, but it is highly unlikely. Sirilia is likely saying the truth when she says no elf she knows possesses such power.