Chapter 2: Mired Waters

Previously:

The party has been hired to deliver a package to the wizard Tauster in Thurmaster by the 28th of Readying. Three days before the deadline, they were attacked just outside Milborne by a group of bandits posing as peasants. While spending the night at the Baron of Mutton in Milborne, they met Tauster's apprentice, Jelenneth. On the next morning, one of the twin innkeepers insisted Jelenneth (who he seems to be romantically connected to) had gone missing, but the locals, including Jelenneth's parents, believed it was too early to be alarmed and she might have just gone off somewhere without informing anyone.

Moving east towards Thurmaster, the group delivered their package, got paid for it and informed Tauster about his missing apprentice. Confirming she hadn't returned to him, Tauster hired the group to investigate Jelenneth's whereabouts, suggesting they ask the ranger Kuiper, whose farm lies halfway between Milborne and Thurmaster. Kuiper led the group along Hog Brook, where he knows Jelenneth goes to gather herbs for her arcane activities. On the way, they ran into the local wild druid, Oleanne, and her two wolf companions, who were on the lookout for Maxim, the son of a local farmer and apparent werebear, lost and confused in the woods.

While camping in the woods, the party was attacked by orcs, bearing silvered weapons and a symbol on their shields that no one had seen before. Oleanne split to investigate the origin of these orcs, while the heroes and Kuiper managed to track and ensnare the werebear. Upon their return, the group got the jump on some more orcs that had returned to the campsite, then made it back to Kuiper's farm as Maxim managed to return to his human form.

Kuiper hosted everyone for the night and planned to have a chat with Maxim's parents upon returning him to them. Meanwhile, he advised the party to return to Milborne and let Garyld know about the orcs as well as Jelenneth's apparent disappearance.

2nd of Coldeven (Spring), 576 CY

Without Umbar's gnomish feet holding down everyone's marching, it's only hallf a day's walk to get from Kuiper's farm back to Milborne. After saying your goodbyes, you head west and by lunchtime you're sat at the Baron of Mutton in hopes of a nice meal and a cool drink. Andren notices you as you enter and take a table, but he's in the middle of carrying some drinks to another table. Before he can lay them down and rush to you for news of Jelenneth's fate, another person manages to make a beeline for your table.

"Greetings. My name is Bertio and I am a travelling merchant. I've heard of kidnappings in this region and that your group were looking into the matter. You seem the adventuring types and I have a shipment due for Thurmaster, going down the river in a barge. I've managed to secure the services of a few people," he says, motioning to the table he came from "but I'm willing to pay you 15 gold each to join up and guard the barge with them. What do you say?"

Almadel sighs as the merchant delivers his words. More distraction from looking for the girl? he thinks to himself. Looking over at the two others, he continues his train of thought. They look like they might be useful though. And hopefully we can ask on the way of anyone;s seen her too. Having persuaded himself that it might be worth their time after all, he nods at the merchant. "What can you tell us about the river, and the journey? How long is it likely to take? Is there anything in particular we should be watching out for? And what exactly are you shipping? Anything likely to get us into trouble?"

"Cautious, that's a good sign. Very professional" Bertio says, almost to himself, before he continues. "The trip should take a day or two and the cargo is mostly sacks of salt, with a small stack of spices on the side. Nothing that could rot or go bad, so if you feel like you need some time before we set off, that's not a problem, I'd rather be safe than sorry. I don't know why anyone would attack such a shipment, but I take it most bandits steal first and check out their loot later. Again, I'd rather be safe than sorry. Rumors abound in this place, people talk of unsafe routes, more than usual anyway, and folks getting snatched out of their homes in the middle of the night. Sounds like I could use the added security, just to be on the safe side."

About that time, Andren hurriedly makes his way to your table.

"Did you find her? Any news?" he blurts out, before noticing Bertio at your table. "I mean, uhm, what can I get you?"

A small lad, not quite the five feet in height, doth step within this tavern. He carries a knapsack upon his back, a thing most empty, save for the corner of a book which peeks out, and a walking staff, the top of which hath been broken short.

He wears a tunic of rough wool, woven coarse, yet beneath are shirt and hose of linen fine, and stout boots that lace up well. At first glance, he seems a little lost and witless, his eyes darting about as he doth seek the innkeeper, perchance, or other serving folk.

Aldeera confers with her companions. "If he's in no hurry to leave," she says, hooking a thumb at Bertio, "I say we continue looking for the girl first."

"Gets my vote."

The warrior appreciated the offer of easy work. Times had been lean and getting some coin in his pocket was always good. But they did seem to have a number of pans in the fire at the moment.

Devon looked a the serving boy Andren who was anxious for news. The boy's question immediately telling him that Jelenneth had not returned here either. "Sorry Andren, we have not found her. Her mentor has not seen her either. We searched the Hog Brook and spoke with a ranger and druid there. Neither have seen her recently."

The warrior paused, "We are not done looking." he reassured him before asking for bread, ale, and whatever they were preparing that day.

"I think it a good offer, but I agree we need to follow up on things here first. We have news of the orcs to deliver and we should speak with the girl's father again now that time has past. Perhaps they have some other ideas."

He feared the answer was already before them. Had the las run into the orcs they had encountered, she would have been easily overpowered. The might never find whatever they had left of her.

The small lad approaches the elders whilst they speak, bowing his head most respectfully.

"Good morrow," he begins, "I am Theobald. Ye speak of a maid and her master, do ye not? Pray tell, do ye speak of Jelenneth and Master Tauster? For I say to you, Jelenneth is my own cousin. I... I have read many a book of hers, truly! And I have walked this whole, long road just to find her. Know ye already where she might be found?"

"We have some business to take care of first, if you don't mind waiting a bit, sir," Hanzel says to the merchant.

When the youth approaches the table, Hanzel turns to look at him. A cousin? He wasn't aware Jelenneth had a cousin, but then again he supposes there's a lot he doesn't know about the missing girl. "Jelenneth? I'm afraid not. Your cousin's location is a question we're looking for the answer to ourselves."

Devon agreed with Hanzel as they spoke with the merchant. They had some other business to attend first.

Devon nodded to the lad Theobald "I'm Devon. We have not found her yet. Join our table if you like as we decide what next in our search."

Considering as he waited for food and drink, he spoke to the others at the table. "A moment of rest with our meal, then speak to Garyld I think. We have news to deliver."

"Thank ye kindly!" Theobald said. "That is a great pity, truly, but of course! I shall help with all my heart! How might I be of aid? I have read books, mind you!"

The lad doth circle the table until he doth spy a chair that is empty, and then clambers swiftly upon it. The edge of the great table doth reach almost to his throat, but now he can see all that doth happen, at the least.

"Orcs?" the merchant says anxiously at Devon's mention. "No one said anything about orcs. Is this a new thing then, on top of the disappearances? That's not good..." he pauses for a moment, before regaining his composure. "Well then. I understand you have some business to see to while you're in Millborne. I'll be staying here for a few more days, so do come find me when you're ready to begin the trip." With that, Bertio politely returns to his table and lets Andren take your order as he takes in the news about Jelenneth.

"I'm starting to worry about her. She's nowhere to be found and now you speak of orcs! Do you think the two might be connected?" Andren says to the entire group as he wipes the table. When he returns in a few minutes with lunch plates of fresh vegetables, eggs, bread and mugs of ale, he notices Theobald having joined the group. "A cousin? I'll get another plate then, if you're out to seek her you're always a welcome guest here!"

Constantine is a plucky little gnome, still wide eyed enough to be looking for adventure without fear. This guard job has more than one benefit for him, money - of course, life on the road is always more expensive than anticipated. But more importantly, a barge! He has never been anywhere near a boat before, and he's having trouble maintaining a stoic demeanour. His imagination alight with thoughts of the open sea.

"Berito sir" the gnome pipes up "if I help them with their business in town, we may be able to get underway sooner?' it's more of a question than a statement
"I can be quite useful" he says to the group with a hopeful smile, and he holds up a length of rope he's been tying into an elaborate knot "in lots of ways" he laughs to himself, and adds "I'm a wizard mind..."

The warrior gestures to the open spaces around the table. "Welcome to both of you. I'm Devon." The warrior does not announce his profession, but obvious by his armor and weapons, he deals with problems with sharpened steel.

He had not really intended to announce orcs, but the cat was out of the bag as they say. To the merchant and serving boy, "While searching Hog Brooke we encountered a group of orcs. We killed those we found. It sounds like this is unusual for this area. After we eat we will deliver our information and see what else we can do here."

Devon looked at the two new arrivals. "A wizard... no spells for finding missing apprentices I assume?

and young Theobald, you have read books... are you a student of magic also?

I've read a few books, well not true, I've read some small parts of a couple of books. None which will aid us here though."

"Well, and truly, Sir," Theobald answered, his eyes very wide. "I have read within Jelenneth's books also, aye. And they have the most grand spells writ inside them!

I can make a thing or area all slimy, and I can move some things, and I can find the magic that is hidden. But mostly, I have made an Alarm Trap, lest I be surprised! Is that of help enough, pray tell?"

Constantine is too naive to know he's in over his head here. Orcs? He's heard of those. What fun!

"Well met Devon, I am Constantine, Wizard of the Conberry clan. And to you as well Theobald. Your spells sound mighty to be sure!"

He does his best to look, well wizardly, as he pulls out his spell book and leafs through the pages.

"hmmmmm.... missing apprentices.... missing apprentices..... No, I'm afraid I have yet to collect any summoning spells"

He slides his book back into his satchel before anyone notices it only has one spell in it and the rest of the pages are blank.

The warrior nodded, breaking open a chunk of bread, "Well, 'Summon Apprentice' that would have been too easy I suppose. But I welcome any magic which may help us with our problems."

He started to dig into the meal thinking that they should get moving again. If the orcs did have the apprentice, she could be miles away and getting farther by the day.

Constantine's stomach grumbles. Life on the road is more expensive than he realized when he left home. While smiling broadly, he slowly pulls a spoon from the folds in his cloak. He can surely pay for this meal if he must, but he hopes no one asks.

"I hear a boat is a most excellent conveyance to aid a search...." he says with his mouth full "moving across the water and all?"

After finishing their meal and saying their goodbyes to Caradoc and Almadel, the group head out to meet Garyld. His near death experience seems to have changed Caradoc, who decided the adventuring life isn't for him; instead, he chose to contact the local temple for guidance and accommodation as he recovers and considers his next steps. As for Almadel, he chose to stick around and ponder his next move, so he should be spending a few more days at the Baron of Mutton, should there be need to contact him again.
With Constantine and Theobald now tagging along, the group head towards Garyld’s place, which looks more like a barn than a house. The doors are open and the inside seems to be a large single space, with lots of carpentry tables, tools and items laid around in various stages of completion or repair. Two huge retriever-like massive hounds give you a cautious growl as they register your approach, but that also alerts Garyld who tells them to stand down, before he lays down his tools and walks up to greet you. In his early 50s, Garyld is hardly in his first flush of youth but still retains a lean frame with a mop of thick black hair streaked with strands of silver or grey hair.

"Hail to thee, travellers! I take it by your looks this isn't a carpentry issue, so I guess you're here to see me as the local constable?"

In his youthful eagerness, Theobald doth burst forth to speak before the Constable.

"We seek my cousin Jelenneth! And I am Theobald, her cousin, thus! These fine folk did encounter the Orcs, aye, and we must needs go forth now to find her and to save her, and..."

His sudden flow of words doth halt as he perceiveth that he hath spoken before the elders. He turneth deep scarlet and casteth his gaze down to the floor, all shamefaced.

"I crave your pardon, good sirs, that was too hasty of me..."

Hanzel is faintly amused by Theobald's eagerness. "It's quite alright," he says with a smile. "It's nothing we weren't going to tell him already."

He turns to the constable, leaning on his staff as he speaks. "Theobald here is right, sir. We've come to tell you about the orcs in the area. Our group dealt with some of them, but there seems to be a lot of them around at the moment. And their shields had a symbol on them, looks like a head with an axe buried in it."

"Whoa there, slow down. I'm aware Jelenneth hasn't returned home in a few days, you say she's disappeared completely? And what of these orcs you speak of? Where did you encounter them? Tell me everything from the start."

The warrior nodded, "We travelled to visit Jelenneth master, to confirm that she had not gone to see him. He hired us to search for her further, so we went to seek the ranger Kuiper and search the Hog Brook where she was said to frequent. On our way to search there, we were ambushed by a group of orcs. We bested them, but they were a heavily armed hunting party."

Constantine nods seriously, heavily armed? ambushed? He hopes none of the others can see the worry on his face, they're real warriors...

The only orcs Constantine has ever seen were in pictures that his older sister would use to frighten him as a child. 'well, it worked' he mutters to himself as behind his back he compulsively rubs his fingers together drawing sparks of magic from the weave. The heat making his fears a little more bearable.

Garyld listens to Devon attentively, his eyes widening a bit at the mention of Kuiper. He then asks you to wait for a moment as he returns inside. His hounds keep an eye on the group as he scribbles a brief note on a piece of scrap paper. When he's done, he whistles, and moments later, a bright-eyed crow answers his summons, landing on his shoulder. Garyld folds the paper into a tiny scroll and tells the bird "Take this to Shiraz." Taking the paper in its beak, the crow flies off, vaguely to the southeast.

"If Jelenneth is anywhere in the western part of Haranshire, Shiraz will probably be able to get some news of her. Thanks for relaying all that information to me. Anything I find out, I promise to get back to you. Likewise, please pass along to me any news or clues that might be important. Together we stand a better chance."

After reporting to Garyld, the group is quick to return to the Baron of Mutton and hunker down for the night, still nursing their wounds from the trek into Hog Brook and the encounter with the orcs.3rd of Coldeven (Spring), 576 CY
It's the final day of resting up and preparing for the trek along the river. While checking in with Bertio after having to pay for last night's lodging, he clarifies that he's paying for protection of the cargo alone; he's not pressing you to get started immediately, but he's not covering your expenses while you're sitting back eating, sleeping and drinking either; that's clearly his way of pressuring you to get started. It is also made clear, as you further discuss the finer details and terms of your employment, that you will be escorting Bertio's boatmen and crew, but the merchant himself will stay behind in Milborne. As a matter of fact, you're expected to make sure the goods are safely delivered to Thurmaster and you shall be paid upon your return to Milborne again. By this point, it's starting to dawn on the group that this trip back and forth between the two villages will be something they'll frequently do during their stay in Haranshire.4th of Coldeven (Spring), 576 CY
With everyone ready to go, Andren bids you farewell and wishes you luck while Bertio is giving final instructions to the crew of his barge.

Constantine is a......let's say thrifty, little gnome. And he is outraged that he is expected to pay a full 5 silver for room and board. He can barely reach the room's door handle, and he takes up less room on the bed than the pillow! The bowl of mutton with onions he ate for supper would fit into a human's hand!!

OUTRAGED!!

He is stomping around the inn looking for the inn keeper to demand fair treatment, when.......

oh my.....
he sees the water.
His little toes curl inside his little boots as he thinks about the boat ride he will take on the morrow. He's never been on a boat before. It seems so....so.....worldly. This is it. This is the reason he left home! To live in the world! To see it. To see it ALL!

He can't help but run out the door and straight to the canal. He stands at the edge and giggles like a boy as he sees his reflection in the water. He throws in little pebbles and watches the ripples distort the image. His mind swoons at the fish, the turtles, the mermaids and the whales that must be in there. Just under the surface, looking back at him.

He considers jumping in. That's what an adventurer would do. Right? He knows how to swim. Right? Well, probably. Gnomes can probably all swim. Right? He thinks hard for a moment, and then remembers that his dear old grandmother sewed this suit he's wearing. He shouldn't risk it shrinking. Yes, that's right, of course as a brave adventurer he could swim from one end of this canal to the other. But he should't. Not in his grandma's suit....

So he just sits at the edge and lets his mind wander. Oh the adventures on the high seas they will have! He'll be a real sailor. A swashbuckler even! His stupid brothers and their stupid books will be SO jealous!

That makes him laugh to himself and he forgets all about the silver.

The warrior prowls the village during the slow days waiting. He returns to Garyld to check on news a couple of times a day, but with nothing new, finds himself impatient to have something to do. In the end, he resorts to just practicing his weapon skills, setting up a straw target and firing his bow or practicing with his sword.

When Hanzel's not trying to get some rest so he can recover properly, he's out and about exploring Milborne, getting to know the locals and seeing if he can perhaps pick up any useful information. The question of Jelenneth's whereabouts and safety often lingers in his mind.

He also takes the opportunity to make sure his supplies are in order, especially regarding his ammunition.

Aldeera's time has been spent sharpening her weapon and honing her skills. She's been practicing on dummy locks, false traps, and moving about stealthily.

The group reunites at the local Boathouse near the river, where workers are already at work preparing the barge for its trip down the river. There, they meet Capella, keeper of the place and clearly the one to perform any necessary boat repairs, as evidenced by the faint smell of tar and pitch that seems to linger around her. A woman in her mid-thirties, Capella is rather broad shouldered and well built, with the no-nonsense character and short fuse to match the boatmen she seems to work with on a regular basis.

The trip itself is wholly uneventful; the only encounter along the river is a family of locals, with the father and sons herding the sheep to graze and drink along the bank while the women are off gathering the small red berries unique to Haranshire. By nightfall, you're in Thurmaster again, updating Tauster over dinner and drinks at the Hound and Tails.

"It is unfortunate that Kuiper's assistance didn't help you discover my apprentice's whereabouts. I shall compensate you as agreed for your troubles, and my offer for additional pay still stands, should you be able to find where Jelenneth is. That aside, I have no more errands for you just now, but you don't seem to be in much need of it anyway. You're making a namy for yourselves in the region, doing just fine finding employment for yourselves already. Should have no trouble getting more jobs now, what with kidnappings and bands of unknown orcs in the woods! Dark times, dark times indeed... I have a feeling there are some interesting adventures in store for you."As if on cue, you feel the presence of someone behind you, in the way where you can tell it's not just someone waiting for the waitress to go by so they can move on, but rather, someone deliberately waiting there for your attention and a chance to join the conversation. Although the man doesn't have his armor on, after a quick moment of searching down the corridors of your mind, you do recognize him as the guard who was posted outside the door of Squire Marlen's house.

"You lot, didn't you visit Squire Marlen's house a few days back? I recognize a couple of you, we spoke outside the door before I let you in. Any idea where that other gnome that was with you's gone? Umbar something. He offered to join the ranks but never showed up for it and no one knows where he's gone. It's like the earth opened up and swallowed him up without a trace."

Another missing person? Just what is going on here? "Umbar? He left our group shortly after we met with Squire Marlen. I haven't seen him since. He seemed to be interested in gems, so he might've gone looking for them and got lost, but I really can't say anything for sure."

"Ugh, that sucks. I was really hoping he'd join up so we could do less shifts, but I guess he had second thoughts. It's hard to find reliable folks these days"

The Hound and Tails hasn't changed at all since your last visit; the ale is still watered down piss, the food is greasy and promising a hard night for your stomach, the beds aren't exactly clean and several inquisitive bugs make their home in them.5th of Coldeven (Spring), 576 CY
The next day, with not much more to go on in terms of investigation, you begin the march along the riverbank back to Milborne. The temperature is chilly and a light breeze makes it feel even colder, but fortunately there's no rain and the few clouds aren't enough to obstruct the sunlight, so once you've walked for a bit and the sun comes up in the sky proper, the cold doesn't feel that bad anymore. Along the river, you only run into another river barge headed towards Thurmaster, which you do notice is also escorted by armed guards. Clearly the news have spread, of disappearances and of orcs. And that's not something that doesn't hit home, because after Scarlet, now another former member of this group, Umbar, seems to have gone missing. Speaking of Umbar, the only positive of him leaving the group has been how the others have been able to march between Milborne and Thurmaster in a single day. As the sun sets, you realize having Constantine along now, with now river barge to carry him along, everyone has to match his pace, meaning it'll take another day till you can make it to Milborne. Fortunately, you now have some friends around this area...

Aldeera considers the merits of camping out and taking her chances with potential bandits or wandering orcs, but decides to take the bed. She sleeps fitfully at best. As the journey draws to the end of the next day, she speaks up. "I suggest that we ask Kuiper if we can borrow his barn for the night. At least we would be warm."

Constantine prefers a feather bed, with a copper bed warmer.... but the price tag on camping is very attractive.

He will follow whatever the group decides. He gets the idea that they already consider him a burden. Maybe he will spend his down time researching "walk faster" magic...

The lad doth gaze from one speaker to the next, with an air of great interest, yet also showing his lack of worldly knowing.

"Ye are Adventurers, are ye not, and the good Gnome a Mighty Sorcerer? Do ye not bear much gold and shining platinum with ye, then?"

He doth pause for but a short moment, pondering.

"Yet I shall follow your lead, for your wisdom and experience shall surely guide us to make the correct choice in all this."

The warrior smiled at the lad Theobald. "Sadly my friend, life on the road means many cold nights on the ground and often little coin to show for it. We were already ambushed by orcs one night, sleep in a friend's barn sounds welcome."

Hanzel normally has no qualms about sleeping outside, but these aren't exactly normal times with so many orcs around. "Well, there's no harm in asking. It'd certainly be safer than the alternative."

Garyld is quick to welcome you once again, asking questions about Caradoc and Almadel who aren't around this time while showing interest in the new additions to the group, Constantine and Theobald. His accommodations aren't exactly top notch, but his farm isn't meant to be an inn and it certainly beats the alternative of camping in the woods. Likewise, dinner is scrambled eggs, rye bread and fresh vegetables; hearty enough to fill your bellies and certainly better than travel rations.

6th of Coldeven (Spring), 576 CY
After saying your goodbyes, you set off West towards Milborne, fortunately with no hostile encounters on the way. Arriving right before sunset, you get there just in time as the locals pour in after a day at work and gather outside the Exchange, which is Milborne's granary that doubles as a small market of sorts. Outside the exchange, people are gathered to witness what appears to be some kind of auction. Asking around, you are told the Denfast family has been forced to abandon their farm due to the spread of the New Mire on the southwest part of Haranshire. They are now selling off what little they could salvage from their property, such as farm tools and the like, before they had to abandon it and flee from the ever expanding Mire.

Devon watched the auction for a moment, although it seemed a simple thing.

"To lose one's land and home, a hard thing. Hopefully they will find a new place."

He considered a moment, "With the spread of the marsh lands and the influx of ..." he paused deciding not to say orcs in a mixed crowd of farmers, although likely they had heard by now. "seems things are getting harder around here."

Devon stops again, glances up at the sky as if hoping some answer might be written in the clouds.

"We have returned again to where the search started. The only thing we seem to have found so far is more people missing."

With the auction seeming to wrap up, a person appears from the gathered crowd and heads towards the group. His clothing seems to suggest a rather modest living, marking him out from the local farmers and peasants observing the auction.

"You lot" he tries to get your attention, as he approaches. "You seem to match Garyld and Andren's descriptions. Devon, Hanzel and Aldeera, was it? My lord, Darius Carman, has sent out summons for you. Will you answer his call and present yourselves at his manor house tomorrow?"

The lad looks between the other back and forth.

The warrior watched the man approach. He extended his hand is greeting, "You have the right of it. I'm Devon, and your name friend?"

He nodded at the man's invitation and glanced at the others in the group. "Lord Carman you say? I am unfamiliar with this area and the local nobility. Could you enlighten us about your lord?"

Hanzel has heard of Lord Carman, having grown up in the area, but knows very little about the man. He wonders why the group are being called on; maybe a member of Lord Carman's house has gone missing?

"I don't really know any more about him than you do, I'm afraid," he says to Devon.

Constantine stands next to Theobald while the warriors talk. He feels like he's 'one of the children' even though he's probably the oldest one here. How old is this Theo kid anyway? Humans get so tall, so quickly.

"we shouldn't keep a lord waiting" he declares. And then feels foolish for saying anything at all. Theses mighty warriors are not to be impressed by some country-bumpkin lord...

Uh oh... did he say that bit out loud? Good Garl! he hopes not. He doesn't know anything about these parts, or this lord.

"My Lord's family have been in charge of the lands this part of Haranshire since the area was tamed" the man responds with a hint of pride in his tone. "Milborne is their seat of power, but their wealth comes from the mines, and running the local smithy. I'm just a general handyman at his mansion, not privy to milord's thoughts and motivations, I'm afraid. He's only asked me to keep an eye out for you and summon you to present yourselves before him.

The warrior nodded in agreement with Constantine, "Agreed."

Looking at the messenger, "We will come speak with the Lord tomorrow as requested."

Turning to the others, "First we should collect our pay for escorting the shipment. Let us go to the inn and find our employer to report that his good have arrived safely."

The mood at the Baron of Mutton is anything but lighthearted tonight. The few locals that have filed in for a drink are still talking to themselves about the auction and what a shame that was. Travelling boatmen get drunk joking about how, at this rate, soon enough they'll have new routes to traverse. Even a grumpy old dwarf you've seen around a couple of times seems to have been taken away by the latest hot subject and he's busy grumbling to anyone who'll hear him about tales of mining mishaps and flash floods underground.

"Ah, greetings" your employer says with glee as he looks up from his table at you approaching. "I take it all is well, yes? I had to commission the boat and crew, it'll probably be a while before they get a contract to load another shipment and come back to Milborne, but they should have given you some form of confirmation in writing that the delivery has been made."

The mood is justifiably gloomy in here. Constantine feels truly sympathetic for the people of this town. He finds the jokes of the boatmen offensive and is about to say something, when Bertio meets them with glee? Orcs, missing people, flooding, family's destitute, glee doesn't sit right with him at all.

He turns away from Bertio, and whispers through clenched teeth to Devon
"what's he so happy about?"

Devon considered Constantine's comment and responded quietly, "Surprised perhaps, considering how everything else is going." He glanced around the common room considering the others.

Devon searched through his pouches and produced the requested document. Handing it to Bertio, "Yes, everything went smoothly." As they accepted payment, "If we are still in town come your next shipment, we would consider another job. Until then, be well."

As a mercenary, having a few regular employers was always good for future business.

Hanzel watches the exchange between Devon and their employer while taking in the conversations around them. The disappearances on their own are bad enough without the spreading Mire and underground floods on top of that.
"No wonder there are people making jokes," he muses. "There's not much else most of them can do right now."

Having sorted out their business with Bertio, the group settle into a table and make arrangements for dinner, drinks and accommodation.

"I hear you lot were over in Thurmaster once or twice, right?" the young boy asks as he sets the drinks down on the table, always under the sleepless gaze of his grandfather. "Looking for my twin brother's crush, Jelenneth. He's been quite down about it, but at least he still does his share of the work round here, can't complain. Anyway, are things just as bad over there? Disappearances, orcs, now those poor folks with news of the Mire flooding out again, it's just too much ain't it? Heard some folks whisper it's all connected, been saying something about a cult or whatnot. My guess it's the few folks in Haralton, if you ask me. Always been more remote types, and they're right next to the New Mire. Wouldn't be surprised if some of them were praying to some marsh monster or what have ye."

7th of Coldeven (Spring), 576 CY
Despite the lack of snow or rain, it's still cloudy and well below freezing in Haranshire, so a night of drinks, hot meals and sleep on a bed indoors at the Baron of Mutton does a lot to raise the party's spirits, even if it feels that things tend to get more and more frustrating, first with the lack of progress in finding Jelenneth, then the orcs and now these news of the New Mire flooding.Lord Carman's mansion, or "The Mansion House" as locals seem to call it, lies on the other side of Milborne from where the Baron of Mutton is, on the West end of the settlement and it's easy to locate as it is significantly larger than the rest, built of stone with a matching stone wall surrounding it. You are met at the outside door by the same manservant who walked up to you at the Auction House and after the necessary introductions, led into the building and the office of Darius Carman himself. The more martially oriented, such as Devon, might notice the lack of any guards, or the fact that no one bothered to remove weapons, in contrast to, say, Squire Marlen's house in Thurmaster that has a standing guard of four.

"Ah, the adventuring types I called for, yes. I take it you've heard about the New Mire, yes? Dreadful news, seems to be all everyone's talking about lately. Bad business, says I. Some evil magic, I thought at first. Well, before you, I sent an emissary off to find a decent diviner who could learn something of the matter. The wretched old charlatan charged me a fortune, and all he could tell me was that there was magic involved, but that it was not evil. He could not identify it, but he said that it was something going wrong. Going wrong! I ask you! I could have told him that myself. Anyways, I want you to study the area for me. Find out anything you can. I shouldn't be surprised if the trouble lies somewhere in the Patchwork Hills; after all, the farmland itself has been settled a good many years and has always been fertile. I'm offering 50 gold to each of you, for up to two weeks' scouting work in the area. If you can find the answer before then, you get paid full rate. If you waste my time and come up with nothing, or some silly excuse like that charlatan, you get nothing. If, however, you can actually solve the problem of the waterlogged lands, I am willing to reward you with a grand total of one thousand gold. In total, that is, not per person, obviously. What do you say?"

Hanzel mentally files away Lord Carman's comments about what the diviner said. Magic, but not evil... a badly botched attempt at fertilising the land, maybe? He'll have to consider that as a possible cause.

Hanzel himself is fully willing to look into this as Haranshire is his home, but he'll have to see what the others think. "What say you, all?" he asks, turning to the group.

"humph?" Constantine snorts, just shaken out of a daydream where he was standing on a pile of a thousand gold pieces, pointing and laughing maniacally at his dumb brothers.

"Well, us gnomes have a saying 'when someone asks for help - you help them'
I guess in this case we'll be paid... so, hired to help?
No matter. The principal remains the same.
We help."

The warrior listened to the lord as he explained the problem, but it seemed another problem just to be added to the top of the long list they were collecting. He liked guarding the barge a lot better, simple goals and straight forward pay. Stomping around in the swamp for a few weeks was not exactly what he was looking for.

"I know nothing of magic, but I wonder if this magic might be what's stirring up the other things we've run into lately?"

He looked at Constantine who had just said he would help, then to Hanzel and Theobald who he knew had some magical talents. "I'll leave the decision to you magically talented. I will be of little help finding magic, but I'll lend my sword for the less mystical troubles."

He considered for a moment, "If we are to travel the swamp for a week or more, we will need provisions. Would you be willing to provide upfront for some supplies? You can have your man purchase them if you are concerned we might drink away any advance.

One other thing, is there someone with experience with the lands around the Mire that we might speak with or hire as a guide. I'd rather know more about what we might be getting into."

Alddera considers only for a moment before nodding her head. "Agreed, but I do wonder about Devon's point. Is this magic stirring up other things?"

Lord Carman nods in satisfaction, as the group seem to be taking him up on his offer.

"I wouldn't know much more about the situation. After all, that's what I'm paying you to find out about, I don't care how you do it as long as you do come up with something useful. Suppose Garyld is the man to ask for guidance, he is a man of the woods after all and a former adventuring type himself. As for supplies, I won't be fronting any money, but I can provide you with a writ to confirm your employment. You should be able to purchase supplies in Milborne by presenting that, my name bears enough weight that any merchant would offer you provisions now and come to me with the bill. I shall be deducting that from your final pay in the end, of course."

In saying that, he moves to his office to get a quill, ink and some paper. There's a bit of pause, or dramatic flourish there; at first you think it is as if he's waiting for your permission to proceed, but with his next words, you realize he's more likely basking in his own power and what he can provide to you at a flick of his wrist.

"My family run the mines and the local smithy, so you should be able to use this document for your purchases at the Smithy too. And of course, it could come in handy in a few other social situations too if you're smart about its use. Open doors, make people bend to your intent, that sort of thing."

The lad doth cast a gaze of true wonder upon Lord Carman, and then to the others.

"With such aid as this, should we not then achieve the finding out of more tidings of Jelenneth far more quickly?"

As the left the lord, "Seems we have some preparation to do. I would suggest we speak with Garyld first to see what he can warn us about. No reason to shop for supplies until we have a better idea of what we might need. Travelling multiple days into the marsh could leave us in a bad situation. We've been lucky so far to be able to fine allies and safe places to stay."

multiple days?
Constantine thinks.
in a marsh?
bad situation?

good thing there's a giant pile of gold waiting for them when they're done...
his mind drifts off to the splendours he will buy.

Hanzel's mind wanders for a moment. The wilderness is a dangerous place, but the key to all this must be out there somewhere. He just hopes they can find it in time.

"Trying to get some information first makes sense," he says, agreeing with Devon. "We wouldn't want to head out without knowing what we're dealing with."

After accepting Lord Carman's job offer and saying their goodbyes, the party are handed a document with Lord Carman's wax seal and signature, proving their employment and requesting that all good folk of Haranshire try to assist the bearers in their quest. Next stop is Garyld's place, in front of which he is busy training his two massive hounds when he is encountered.

"The New Mire, eh? Well, it's about time someone did something about that, the Denfasts are the last in a growing list of people who had to abandon those lands. And the worst part is, Cutter Brook has not flooded, nor does the water in it seem foul or bad to drink, yet the affected area has almost doubled its size since last year. The Mire was, until two years ago, good farming land. That's why it's called New, you see. The first year, the soil grew waterlogged, until the roots of plants rotted in the ground. This year, the problem is even worse, the waters are expanding at an alarming rate and it doesn't seem natural."

Devon had some experience with farming from his father's place. "It does strike as odd that land would change so quickly. Where does all the water come from if not for excessive rain or flooding I wonder."

Looking at Garyld, "We met a druid a day or so back. Are there any local nature wardens who have investigated the changes?"

"Other than stray groups of orcs which seem to be about now, are their any other changes in the wild life we should be wary of. Mires typically have large number of reptiles. Have any creatures appeared withe the rotting of the land?"

"Where do you suggest we might start? Perhaps where the most recent farmers just left and work our way from there? If we are to find the source, we will need to work our way toward the center. Do you have any information on which farms were impacted first?"

Garyld nods as Devon asks his question, then scratches his chin as he clearly tries to get his thoughts in order to respond.

"The flooding doesn't seem to be due to any natural cause, so magic's the best alternative. Haranshire used to be full of lizardfolk before it got cleared out and settled, but that was several generations ago. If they're back, there hasn't been any sighting I'm aware of."

"Location-wise, unless you wanna go blind into the Mire and slosh around hoping you stumble upon a clue, you're best off starting with a visit to Harlaton. The locals there might be able to guide you better. Maybe ask around for Shiraz. She's the ranger patrolling the entire western half of Haranshire, if you manage to talk to her she's probably your best bet. Don't think she's got a permanent home you can go to, I use ravens to send messages to her myself. I'm kinda stuck in Milborne, bad leg and all that. Then there's Kuiper who keeps an eye on the Great Rock Dale and the eastern half of the shire, concentrating on the Hardlow Woods, Howler's Moor, and the northern margin of the Thornwood. Used to have Jeremas and Talyan in our ranks too, but they're now deceased. They patrolled Blessed Wood, the Halfcut Hills, and the Shrieken Mire, but these areas have been somewhat neglected of late, if I'm honest."

"Speaking of deceased, there used to be an elderly seclusive druid in Thornwood, but they're believed to have died a long time ago. I don't suppose that's the one you met. Are you sure it was a druid? Legends abound of the Wild Woman in the Woods; some say she's feral, or even not totally human."

Theobald's eyes did widen like saucers at this talk. He clapped his hands together with great cheer and did hop upon the spot in his excitement.

"The Wild Woman in the Woods! O, a true legend! That is far better than a usual druid, truly! Not human, say ye? Such a grand thing! We must needs go there! I wish to meet her and see her magic with the living things!"

Hanzel listens to what Garyld has to say, his fingers tapping idly on his staff. He recognises some of the names; he thinks he's crossed paths with them a few times while attending to his duties.
"You might get your wish," he says to Theobald, smiling slightly at the boy's enthusiasm. "Depending on whether our paths cross with hers or not."

The warrior nodded, "The woman we met had two wolves, Oleanne I believe was her name. Kuiper knew her. I assumed druid, but wild woman would certainly fit the description."

"Seems we have our first destination then, Harlaton to speak with the locals and perhaps find this ranger Shiraz."

After grabbing some supplies for the trip to Haralton and the New Mire, the party head out south of Milborne. Despite Constantine's best efforts, his gnomish stride means the others need to slow down and match his pace. Between the morning meeting with Lord Carman, the chat to Garyld, shopping for provisions and the trek itself, it's near sunset when Haralton's few buildings appear in the distance. Quickening their step in anticipation of a drink, a hot meal and a night's sleep, the group climb up a short hilltop only to come up to a grisly sight: three feral-looking canines are in the middle of a meal, feasting on a carcass right by the side of the road. Both sides notice each other a moment too late to avoid contact; not a second later, the wild dogs shift their attention from their dinner to the newcomers and snarl at the travellers.

Devon drew his sword and readied his shield, he stepped forward toward the dogs to keep himself between dogs and the smaller members of his group.

Hanzel moves towards one of the wild dogs to keep its attention away from the child and swings his staff. If he can just land a solid hit, he might be able to fend it off.

Theobald's eyes did grow wide with fear upon seeing the foes, yet he doth collect his courage when the grown members of the company step boldly forth.

Quickly fetching his throwing-darts from his pack, he doth begin to cast them with great care, aiming first to prick the smallest hound, and thus work his way to the greater beasts.

He doth keep far from the hounds in the mêlée, lest he strike his own companions by error.

Constantine's legs quiver. His knees threaten to give out completely. He looks desperately to the left and the right for somewhere to run. Those dogs are taller than he is!!

Then the real warriors step in front of him, ready to face the danger and his mood shifts.

"Bad dog" he says loud enough for the others to hear and he brandishes his staff ready to clip a mongrel across the nose.

Aleera draws her blade and waits for the dogs to close with her. She slashes with her shortsword as soon as one comes within range.

The wild beasts dash uphill and swarm Devon, who's stepped forward to take the brunt of the offensive. Before he can properly swing his blade, the warrior is downed by the pack of hounds! (4 damage to Devon, Unconscious and Bleeding)

Theobald manages to draw the hounds' attention as one of his projectiles connects with its intended targets, causing the wild dog to howl in pain and step back from the fallen warrior (1 Damage to Wild Dog B). That's just the opening the rest of the group need to rush forward in rescue of Devon as they descend upon the beasts. While Hanzel struggles to properly use his staff in the melee, Constantine smashes his against the snout of the strongest looking dog, nearly cracking its skull off (6 Damage to Wild Dog A). Few steps further, Aldeera manages a deft slice, cutting off the back of a dog's neck before she twists the blade in her palm to stab down the wound, right down to the beast's throat (4 Damage to Wild Dog C, DEAD).

Having met a stronger resistance than they might have hoped for, with one down and the strongest among them on the brink of death, the Wild Dogs admit defeat and try to make a retreat.

hot blood splatters across Constantine's face. He grimaces, and then thinks "I'm a hero... a real warrior HERO!" It's all he's ever wanted to be!!

"I thought dogs liked sticks" he says in his best hero voice as he swings his staff dramatically in a wide circle, ready to strike again. As soon as the dogs escape his range, he turns his attention to Devon, hoping he can help.

Aldeera takes a parting strike at the retreating dogs.

With the wild dogs on the retreat, the party takes care to staunch Devon's bleeding and keep him safe as he comes back to his senses. It's only a short march to Haralton and the prospect of a drink, warm meal and nice bed is very much welcome after today's ordeals.

The remaining travel is quite uneventful and "village" is a pretty generous term for Haralton, which lies at the center of a broad belt of farmsteads in what's probably the best arable land of the shire, at the foot of the Terraces. With most of the few locals living spread out in their farms, it is a rather sleepy village with only one tavern/hostelry around, fittingly called the Pitcher and Pitchfork. It's a pretty small place, mainly meant for the locals to have a drink together after a hard day's work in the fields, but it's cosy enough. Likewise, people here seem polite enough, but it's hard to shake off the feeling that one is an outsider here in this small, tight knit community.

Constantine pauses in the doorway of the tavern. He scans from side to side, observing the "regular" folk. Such safe, simple live they have, no idea what the life of a true adventurer is like....

He strides confidently towards the bar, and only struggles a little bit to pull his small frame up on to a stool.

"ale"

he says, as he flips a copper coin onto the bar.

Without moving his head, he tries to see if anyone is looking at him, before he dramatically wipes the dried blood from his face, while doing his best to look like a proper beast slayer.

Aldeera enters the tavern with an air of indifference. She doesn't make eye contact with the locals, but finds an empty table and takes a seat.

Devon groaned as he climbed to his feet. The fresh wounds barely closed. "Thank you." he looked around and noticed one of the dogs there. "Seems the rest of you had better luck than I with the mutts."

---

As they entered the village Devon had to admit that it was not much. As they entered the bar, he noticed he had a slight limp as he favored one leg. He followed Aldeera to a table and lowers himself slowly to a seat. The warrior was feeling a bit light headed and he would have to check his wounds again, but first he definitely needed an ale.

​The rest of the journey was most dull and quiet. The village was a welcome change, even being but a few scattered homes amidst the great, flat fields which lay beneath the high Terraces. Truly, the soil there was rich and dark.

​Theobald noticed that the air here smelled very deeply of turned earth and straw, and that the few folk he did spy seemed to be tanned brown by the sun like old leather. ​This was a sleepy place, with only one Inn for all the farm-folk, aptly named 'The Pitcher and Pitchfork.'

​The company then did enter the Inn. Theobald’s eyes took in the room; it was small, indeed, yet warm and free of any mess. ​The people within seemed of polite manner, yet Theobald could not rid his mind of the feeling that they were all strangers in this small knot of folk. Though his stomach did send forth soft noises of want, he did not dare to call for drink nor food, nor did he choose a seat, but stood waiting, until the grown folk had chosen what they would do.

The return to the village Hanzel grew up in strikes him as vaguely surreal. It's as he remembers it, for the most part, but it also seems so much smaller than he thought it was as a child. He supposes that's to be expected, what with it and the nearby farmland not being his entire world anymore.
-
Hanzel follows the rest of the group into the Pitcher, brushing a few bits of leaf off his clothes on the way in. He takes a seat at the same table as Devon, glancing at the warrior as he sits down. He might have to give the wound a proper look later.
He notices Theobald still standing and gestures at a seat. "You can sit down if you want," he says, casually. "The seats won't collapse under you."

The bartender, a middle aged man of receding hairline, plain functional countryside clothing and otherwise unremarkable appearance, puts a palm on Constantine's coin and slides it over the counter, before giving it a quick inspection in case it might be counterfeit. "Ain't seen you lot around before" the man grumbles at the gnome as he grabs a mug and starts to pour in ale from the barrel behind his counter. "Don't seem like the farming types either. Or merchant types, for that matter." The man turns around to serve the ale and notices Hanzel speaking to Constantine. "Wait, I know you... Hansel, innit? Little boy last time I saw you, my, how time flies. You seem quite the woodsman these days. And you're with these armed folks too. Come to check out the New Mire, I bet?"

"It's been a while, yes," Hanzel says, addressing the bartender. "My work has me travelling a lot. And yes, we're here to look into this business with the New Mire."

Devon had not realized they were going to Hanzel's home village. Not that it mattered, but certainly would not hurt as the bar tender might be more likely to open up to someone from around here than with a bunch hired strangers.

The warrior was still feeling his near death, so he slumped into his chair and ordered an ale to take the edge off.

Constantine didn't expect the bartender to know any of them, tall tales probably won't cut it here. He feels a bit deflated, he's never had such a good story to tell before...

He slides off his stool and moves quietly to the table to join the others. "Warrior work is thirsty work eh?" he says as he sits down to nurse his pint. He's never drank a full one before, and now he doesn't think today's the day.

Devon smiled weakly, "That it is my friend." Silently he hoped that this was not a sign of how things would go for the rest of their journey.

"Well it's a good thing someone local's looking into it" the bartender tells Hanzel, as he's pouring the ale for the rest of the group. "Outsiders are only in it for the gold and glory, but I believe you care for us folks here. And you seem to have a decent group with ya. I keep saying, whatever's causing it to flood this fast ain't natural. And if it's magic, it won't be subtle. The trick is surviving long enough in the Mire till you locate the source of it all." As if to emphasize that last point, the man puts down the last of the filled mugs and pushes them towards the druid. "Got any promising leads so far? An idea where to start from? Or you just gonna wander the Mire till you stumble upon whatever's causing the flood?"

The lad doth look from one grown face to another, his eyes clouded with great worry as the man speaks of the dangers within the Mire. Yet, he doth take a deep breath and nods most firmly, his voice ringing out with hope.

"Sir, pray do not fret!" he saith to the keeper of the Inn.

"For these be the finest and most noble adventurers in all the realm, truly! They shall not only smite whatever magic doth cause this flood, but they shall also find my cousin Jelenneth and bring her home to me!"

After he hath spoken these bold words, he doth quickly cast a glance toward his companions, seeking in their faces the proof that he hath indeed spoken the truth.

Devon, who looks literally like something to dogs dragged through the mud, smiled weakly at the bold claims Theobald made.

Constantine slides what's left of his ale (most of it) in front of Devon, who clearly needs it more.

"the lad speaks the truth" he boasts to the bartender "we are great warriors"

and he sits back in his chair, smugly smiling to himself, enjoying the sounds of the words.

Aldeera keeps her head down to hide her rolling eyes.

Hanzel takes a quick drink of the ale before speaking. "The boy puts it a bit enthusiastically, but we can hold our own in a fight. We might be starting our search in the Patchwork Hills, but I suppose that depends on whether we can find out anything else before we start."

"Holding your own in a fight's gonna come useful if you run into one of these in the Hills" the innkeeper says pointing to the skin of a rather large mountain lion proudly displayed above the fireplace. Hanzel remembers that being a thing at the Pitcher and Pitchfork and it was never in an especially good state, but it feels like it's even more mangy and moth-eaten with age since the last time he laid eyes upon it. "It's funny, you know," he continues, "every now and then people with set the bracken ablaze to prevent them from encroaching on the terraces, but now it's the water that's moving in and no one knows how to stop it. Although it'll probably drown out the trees in the southeast before it rises up to the terraces, really. Maybe that's why that woodsfellow wosstheirname's been seen lurking about there. You might be well to exchange information if you're both looking into the same thing."

Devon nursed his ale as he rested, still hurting from the dog bites. "Speaking to someone with local knowledge would certainly help. I don't fancy we could just randomly trip on whatever the problem is."

8th of Coldeven (Spring), 576 CY
After a hearty meal, a few drinks and a good night's sleep, the group sets out from Haralton the next morning to explore the surrounding hills with a general direction towards the forested patch on the southern end. The weather is cloudy and the temperature just above freezing, which makes the light breeze of the morning feel even colder, so a trek up the hills quickly gets the blood flowing for everyone to feel a little warmer.

As a local and the group's wilderness expert, Hanzel takes point in leading the expedition across the low bushy vegetation of the hills and around the terraced farmlands, always on the lookout for tracks or signs of something unusual. It is a long, slow day that doesn't seem to be yielding any results, but at least it doesn't bring any nasty encounters either. It's only sometime in the late afternoon and as the group is on the edge of the cultivated areas, heading towards the rougher patch of the hills that they hear something: the sounds of armed struggle.

Closing in to investigate, a woman seems to be surrounded by a group of orcs. She is armed with a sword and has a longbow strapped to her back, clearly able to defend herself but right now just standing her ground, weighing her options. Six orcs have her surrounded, they have the numbers advantage and apparently they got the jump on her too. More importantly, the orcs bear shields with the exact same symbol you saw in the Thornwood while looking for Maxim the werebear: a cracked skull (some even displaying an axe that smashes it), with an arrow sticking into each eye socket. Both sides seem quite busy with each other and haven't noticed you yet.



What do you want to do?

The lad doth lean close to his companions, his voice but a tiny, trembling whisper, lest the foul orcs prick up their ears.

"Good sirs, pray, we must needs help this maid!" he saith, his eyes wide and urgent. "Might we not show ourselves in great number and bid these orcs to parley? Or be they naught but savage butchers who know no mercy?"

He doth clench his small fists, looking toward the woman. "If we do save her, perchance she hath seen my cousin Jelenneth on her travels! And truly, she looks most brave; she would surely be a stout friend for our long road ahead, would she not?"

The warrior readies his short bow and judges the range to the nearest orc. "Orcs with these same markings ambushed us days ago. Now they are here also."

He moves to get into a firing range, "Ready yourselves."

Aldeera tenses, drawing her short sword and making ready.

Aldeera instinctively looks about for cover. If she finds some, she will attempt to meld into the shadows (25%).

His sling in hand, Hanzel tries to line up a decent shot at one of the orcs before they notice they have company.

With a flick of his hand, Theobald produces a bunch of darts to pepper the Orcs with them

Devon slid into position above the others, he knew he might only get a few shots before he needed to intercept any orcs coming up the hill.