Farming Out, Part 1
Log Info
- Title: Farming Out, Part 1
- Emitter: Williwaw
- Characters: Auranar, Jinks, Lyme, Paenitia, Seyardu, Randolf
- Place: Alexandros Wilderness
- Time: Tuesday, October 19, 2021, 10:06 PM
- Summary: The adventurers team up with the Crowe caravan and head towards the farming town where they will seek the missing. Their journey takes several days, and they have encounters with hostile wildlife. As they near their destination, their path is blocked by a Sith'Makar in tattered robes. They engage with words, attempting to discern his desire. He warns them off, saying they should not help the farmers nor seek the missing. The group explains, they must. He vanishes and they are left to continue, knowing that they are likely walking into a clash of cultures and territory.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Auranar 4'8" 123 Lb Wild Elf Female A wild elf with dark skin and a red dress. Lyme 7'2" 435 Lb Orc Butch Black-skinned oruch of suitable stature. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. Randolf 4'10" 280 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A burly, well-dressed Khazad in wizardly robes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Williwaw -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
To recap. The hamlet of Newhome, unable to solve its own troubles sent a plea for help with Thomas Crowe on his return trip to Alexandria. He in turn passed on the request to the adventurer's guild who, particularly in light of some recent downticks in their popular support, is more than willing to take on jobs of this nature. So it fell to Frances Harde, a perenially tired looking man to find likely candidates for a road trip and nature walk to see help out the poor farmers of Newhome. Which is you.
Crowe and Sons transport has offered to provide transport, assuming you're willing to sub in as a guards for the return journey as he has some goods to bring back to Newhome as the first leg of their much longer overland trade route. This is, of course, optional.. and is not necessarily the fasted way to get there, only the safest. Should you prefer an alternate means of travelling, directions are provided... assuming at least one of your number is proficient enough with overland navigation.
Auranar is walking, becasue horses have never much liked her very much, and she hardly wishes to try her hand at handling one should anything untoward occur. She's got her bow slung on her back, and she's got her eyes peeled for anything of interest, but mostly she's keeping to herself. She did however exchange her shoes for a nice solid pair of boots. The important things in life are the small ones.
Randolf has been spending an -alarming- amount of time out in the field of late. Even with the Adventurer's Guild declining in popular support, he's made it his business to keep abreast of do-gooding in need of being done. He'd just happened to be perusing the billboard when the job to Newhome was mentioned aloud. Never one to leave goodly folk in need, he'd stumped over just as the caravan was preparing to leave the city and added his name to the crew sheet. And so now here, he is. Being a stumpy-legged dwarf, he's elected to ride on the cart rather than slow everyone down with his shorter stride. He has his spellbook in his lap and his reading spectacles perched atop his nose as he peers intently at the pages. His pipe tucked in the side of his mouth wobbles up and down as he mutters intently, one blunt fingertip tracing along the lines of the text. "An' in this manner does the spell matrix attain the tertiary orbiform phase array..." He squints a bit closer at the text, then hastily pages back. "But how the hell do ye...?" At least he's getting his studies in--although it means he's particularly engrossed and not at -all- paying attention.
The Red Knight will ride, astride her Ivory Steed. Trailing the caravan as rearguard, is best. Otherwise they are likely to be staring at giant peacock tailfeather eyes, staring back at them for the entire trip. It could be unsettling, it could be distracting. Ramirez always ends up believing he is leading a parade if he's out in front, and he gets fancy.
Seyardu was not good riding if it was unnecessary, and while not the best guard, it was at least easier for her to take a spot on the cart, with her weapon set in her lap as she watches the back for any coming up, leaving any potential ambushes to those better suited to discerning them. At least it let her see her friend behind the group, who she could share conversation with to make the trip more enjoyable.
Jinks finally broke down and bought a steed. Really, he should've done so after the miserable, sneeze-inducing ride on the back of Shilde's quadrupedal, hirsute sidekick. Or when he fell ass-over-teakettle through Ramirez' impressive plumage on the unexpected charge. Or any number of times he's walked for any distance and whined the whole way.
Maybe he'd been hurt before and was just waiting to find the right pony before getting into another stable relationship.
Neighsayers is a failed racing pony with a second lease on life. The critics said he'd never win a race. His owner named him in open mockery of these naysayers. Well, the naysayers were right. But he's been well treated; a perfect, glistening black coat, a draped mane of silver hair better-maintained than that of most sapient humanoids. He's built well and gorgeous just... worthless in a race; uninterested in all the hard work.
Sometimes two creatures are just meant to find each other.
The minstrel sits comfortably in a saddle so new you can still see the cattle brand in the leather. He leans back and holds loose the reins in one hand, scratches his beard idly with the other, and surveys the road ahead. He looks bored. The pony looks bored. Together they'll suffer through these e-quest-rian pursuits.
"That is the fine steed you have pick, Jinks." Paenitia says with a grin. Well, she's always grinning, her mask sees to that. "Do you want the lance? I have the spares."
Randolf scowls dourly, taking ahold of his pipe and squinting at the page. "How the hell are ye meant tae maintain -three- focative loci -and- invoke an orbiform phase state change wi' just a single mnemonic incantation?" He grumbles. He flips another couple of pages and his scowl darkens. "Oh, fer fuck-sake-, o' -course- they expect ye tae use the Adornaic Form." Harrumphing, he fumbles out his pen and starts crossing out entire lines of text. "Well. We'll be fixin' -that- nonsense," he grumbles. He glances up and around at his comrades. Since Seyardu is riding in the cart with him (and he has little to offer in the way of pony critique), he looks over at her. "Oy Sey. We got any notion what exactly -kind- o' help the Newhome folk are needin' from us?"
Admittedly the dwarf's commentary has Auranar's attention. She's not-so-subtly trying to get a look at his book, and failing due to the fact that she's walking and he's in the cart. She frowns heavily when he starts crossing things out in it and looks away. "You shouldn't deface books." She mutters, mostly to herself and crosses her arms over her chest in disgust. Then eyes the book in question as if thinking of liberating it from the dwarf.
Jinks gives a wince and rests a hand lightly on his sternum, remembering some previous trauma in passing. "I think my objective will be to stay as far back from things with Enness as possible." He leans forward, resting one hand on the saddle while he smooths the pony's coat with other, waving then to where his shortbow hangs on the flank. "Between the Hymn and my bow I've always preferred to let you sturdier-types hold the line." That fancy, mithral rapier is either for emergencies or just for show. He grins, glancing from the paladina to the assorted tallmen in the wagon. He lifts the reins to get Neighsayers' attention and nudges with his heels like the dealer showed him, leaning subtlety in the saddle. He still has to raise his other arm for balance, not trusting his thighs and hips (on a saddle, at least). The pony plods closer to Ramirez and his rider. "And if anything makes it past you, Ramirez, and Seyardu, I'm sure they'll be more interested in investigating the cloud of expletives surrounding our Khazad comrade before they attend to my mischief."
Thomas Crowe himself is not with the pair of wagons carrying you along this time. Instead it is one of his sons, Eddard, who drives the lead wagon.. three other employees are also along. Steiv, an older, lanky human sits on the lead wagon's bench with Eddard, a crossbow in his lap. This is the wagon Randolf is in. The followup wagon, the one carrying Seyardu and being followed by Paenitia is driven by Martle, a human short enough one might suspect some elvish blood, and Chiv, the crossbowman, a completely unremarkable human in every way.
The initial parts of the journey are unremarkable. The hamlet is some distance away.. the kind of distance that's measured in days rather than miles or leagues. Evenings are spent with the wagons parked to help shield the night's fire from the wind and provide something of a defensible position should trouble arise, mornings spent with a quick breakfast, an inspection of the animals.. both the ones you have brought as well as the eight horses being used to haul the wagons. Your presence is, of course, welcome... Martle proves to be quite talkative, in fact... Chiv turns out to be quite the grump. Eddard and Steiv are willing to join conversations, though the former seems troubled by something he refuses to share and the latter.. well, he seems the nervous type. Eyes always scanning the tree lines.
There are times you certainly earn your passage, as well. More than once the small caravan encounters trouble... usually you're able to talk your way out of trouble, whether by pointing out the exceedingly well armed nature of the caravan's protection duty, or simply honeyed words. This doesn't work on the animal attacks; one night you're beset by a pair of frenzied boars that, while dangerous, you prove more than adequate to dispatch... another night what seems like a swarm of bats sweeps through the campsite, but it does little more than startle the animals.
Eventually Eddard turns the wagons down a trail that seems little more than someone's initial inklings of an actual path.. but manages to navigate the wagons through regardless, as if he's done it before. The trees of the woods seem to close in about you, their branches reaching, their witches hair brushing against anyone who strays too close.
Lyme doesn't say much, sticking to shank's mare on the job. He, at least, enact attentiveness.
Auranar is glad to stop for the evening, staying far from the trees with their reaching branches and more talkitive with the others now than at the beginning of their journey. She's a driven sort underneath her mein of goodwill. She spends her time in her own books which she's brought along, and if not that... encouraging the dwarf Randolf into talking to her about his magic. She's a sorceress as it turns out, but that doesn't mean that they share no common ground. She likes talking about magic at the very least.
Paenitia and Ramirez eagerly guard the caravan, keeping mostly to the back, although she circulates. At times the lucht rides near the gnome, passing handling tips across, should he receive them. She also has her bow out for much of the journey. At least once the path led on enough of a downslope that Ramirez was able to glide overhead. Impressive enough as he is on claw and hoof, he casts a magnificent shadow from the air. The Dark Lucht is garralous at night, joing in the story telling with Martle, sharing company with Eddard and Steiv, even making an effort to draw Chiv out of his shell.
Of course, she never leaves her own. No one sees Paenitia with her mask off, and armour, beaten though it is, is the last thing she removes and the first thing she goes for after the morning routine is done.
Randolf is only too happy to talk with Auranar at great length. When it comes to the magical arts, his usually surly and curmudgeonly exterior melts, becoming excited, animated, and passionate. Like all his kin, his chosen craft is his heart and soul, as near and dear to him as the beard on his face. Learning that Auranar's mystic gifts are inborn fires his insatiable curiosity, and she'll find herself on the receiving ends of some very insightful (if a bit pointed and blunt) questions. At the present moment, however, she's treated to a harrumph. He pushes his spectacles down his large nose to scowl over the rims at her. "It's hardly defacing if it's -fixin'- the damned thing," he grumbles. "The Adornaic Form is sloppy bloody spellwork, innit? It's too -simple-. There's nae room fer improvisation or expansion, nae heart or soul! May as well just be sloppin' fingerpaints all over the subaetheric stratum!" He harrumphs. "No indeed, -I'll- be usin' the Sylardean Form. -So- much more elegant than -this- load o' shit."
Seyardu was decent to talk to, even if her understanding of many softskin customs was lacking. But that did not stop them from showing interest in everything that everyone else was speaking of. But she was just as content to read and watch the back of the caravan. She wasn't one to not pull her weight during rest either, always helping to set up tents and sleeping, and spending a not inconsequential time preparing meals for the travelers.
Jinks celebrates most nights as if they were his last and with no thought for the morrow. Being away from Alexandria also seems to improve his mood. So a few nights camping with the gnome are quite a bit of fun (so long as you don't mind the endless singing). Sadly, he has no time for talk of academic approaches to magic; the topic might as well be the somatic and verbal components to a 'Conjure Sour Face' spell. Why not just charm reality into doing what you want? Books? Nonsense.
Any and all help with the horse is welcomed. Enness is handsome and something of a gold investment; no reason to waste it. The minstrel absorbs knowledge like a stiff rag dropped into a pale of warm water. When he wants to, at least.
The gnome is (probably) the hardest to get up and moving in the mornings. And rarely has a stomach in the shape for a meal before breaking camp. But he bought the comfiest saddle he could find and discovers that riding hungover isn't the end of the world.
"Wouldn't it be nice if we just ran into the missing folk camped out here on some variety of snipe hunt?" Jinks wonders, bow already unslung and resting in his lap as they brave the trail into the deepening woods. "Nice little vacation. No demons or slandering nobles for awhile. Contracted rates guaranteed by guild membership even if the problem solves itself..."
<OOC> Auranar will get a 15 in that case GAME: Jinks rolls Perception: (12)+7: 19 GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (15)+5: 20 GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (19)+4: 23 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+5: (13)+5: 18 (Ramirez Perception) GAME: Randolf rolls Perception: (11)+6: 17
"Ha, that would be the swift resolution, and the welcome one." Paenitia agrees cheerfully. She's happier in the saddle than out, hers is well worn, sunbaked and frequently oiled to prevent it cracking. Its leathers have turned dark with just the hint of ocher tones. She pulls her weight in camp, but she only weighs thirty pounds, so that's a large pot of hot water typically. It's on the road where she punches above her weight class, and she keeps a sharp eye out as they progress.
It turned out Martle is quite the singer, too.. when Jinks chose a song he knew, he was more than ready to join in whether welcome or not! Though this current stretch has muted even his exuberance. Chiv did indeed, if not come out of his shell, seemed to grudgingly accept the occasional traded words with Paenitia... but the forest has had an effect on him, as well. He keeps stroking the stock of his crossbow, glaring at the tress themselves.
Eddard and Steiv were more than happy to leave Randolf and Auranar to their conversations, neither one displaying talent nor interest in the arcane arts. The former seems singlemindedly focused on getting them through... you learned at one point that this is, in fact, his first time 'leading' an expedtion. Steiv's nervousness just seems enhanced, almost like he's ready to jump completely free of the wagon's front bench, or fire his crossbow at the first things that startles him. In fact, you're pretty much certain he's on a hair trigger.
That's when you all see it. A large, clocked figure, slightly stooped... a reptilian snout protruding from a frayed hood as part of a full bodied cloak. A gnarled, clawed hand holds a crooked staff before it.
GAME: Paenitia rolls diplomacy: (2)+8: 10
"A minute, my friends." The Red Knight cautions Steiv.
"Hola Friend Dragon!" Paenitia calls out, nudging Ramirez to move up near the front, off the road to one side to more easily pass the wagons. She sets her bow down against the saddle. "You are in the road and we are going this way."
She faces the hooded figure in the full bodied cloak, and adjusts her own, fanning the white peacock feathers, "Do you have the words or warning, or the other wishes? We can tarry but are in the rush and would like to know how long you will stand in the way?"
Auranar nods to Randolf, listening intently to his opinions and answering his questions to the best of her ability. She's not overly shy about herself, but there are - some - questions she wont answer. Some she simply doesn't know. She notices the figure in the dark, and manages to draw herself out of the conversation somewhat, pointing to the individual even as Paenitia calls out to them. "Seems we aren't alone." She murmurs to the dwarf quietly and then more loudly. "Hello fellow traveler!"
Randolf had indeed partaken of the raucous singing, whenever he wasn't talking with Auranar. Once he had a few swallows from his whiskey flask, he'd joined along in the singing with that booming, boisterous voice of his. That's not to say he's any -good-, but dwarves do love to sing. And on at least one occasion, he gets some wolves baying along with him, so at least -someone- appreciates his performance. But now, there's a stranger standing in the road. He doffs his spectacles, tucking them into his robe along with his pipe. His book gets stowed carefully in his hip satchel as he rises, hopping down onto the road. He lumbers around to stand with Pae, letting his hand rest on the grip of his wand. He doesn't speak--he'll let smoother talkers handle things, for the time being.
Seyardu saw Paenitia move forward, and Seyardu leans on the side of the cart to see the source of the commotion and reason for the greeting. She sits up a bit straighter, and waves to the figure, Hopping out and joining the others after stumbling a bit.
"Peace on your nest, is everything alright? These are dangerous places to wander alone."
Jinks raises an eyebrow and assures himself, silently, that he had the bow by its grip before he noticed the reptilian snout. This wasn't racial profiling; it was contextual bias. He steers Enness to the edge of the road and tilts his head to one side. He'd been flexing his jaw and finding the right tongue for dragonspeak but sits back instead to watch when others initiate contact. <draconic>
"What?" Steiv looks confused as he checks his crossbow so that he doesn't shoot her when Pae petitions him to hold.. he doesn't notice the shrouded figure in the path before the assmbled adventurers and traders until it speaks. "Thissss land issss not for you..." it rasps. The twang of Steiv's crossbow loosing marks his startled cry when he DOES notice. Thankfully, the quarrel goes wide, his crossbow haven't been anything resembling aimed. Eddard, of course, barks out a hold to the wagon in the back where Martle pulls on the reins. Chiv, less agitated, raises his crossbow to train on the figure, standing so he might fire over those of you who have stepped forward.. but he doesn't fire. Veteran enough, and having witnessed enough talk downs, to prefer to avoid the violence. If possible.
The creature in the path before you, feet obscured by the long grasses in the overgrown trail, doesn't snarl.. but you see the lips pulling back from sharp teeth. The snout points towards Paenitia, Auranar and Seyardu. "Thisss one isss no friend of you. Turn yourssselvess back. I am commanded to give you thisss chance. Do not sssquander it."
Auranar has the grace to look embarassed by the other's words, glancing down and backing away from the hooded figure briefly. "I didn't mean to offend." She looks at the caravanars who she assumes have come this way before. "Are we traveling through someone's lands?" She doesn't want to be rude.
GAME: Jinks rolls Diplomacy: (11)+16: 27 GAME: Paenitia rolls diplomacy: (4)+8: 12 (Aid Another Diplo jinks) GAME: Seyardu rolls diplomacy: (18)+14: 32 (Aid Another Jinks)
"Neighbors don't have to be friends," Jinks remarks, finally speaking up. His draconic tutor wasn't from around here so there's bound to be an accent. Maybe a regional dialect. He takes his time with the uncomfortable words. "Neighbors don't have to war, either. Why not exhaust words first? Avoid permanence." He wants to say something about 'intractability' but damned if he can figure out the right sounds for it in that language. <draconic>
"We do not plan to stay. We pass through, on the road, the camping at night." Paenitia says, tapping at the eye-holes on her mask, "these eyes are not good in the dark."
She turns, to delay primarily, and to look back at the caravan, evaluating everyone's state of awareness, and readiness. If it turns into an ambush she's hoping everyone will have the heads up when it does. Another glance along the edges of the road, and the long grasses, estimating what those might hide.
"We seek others who are lost. We are paid to do this. If we do not return, others more will come to find out what happen to us. It will be very inconvenient." The little Lucht tells the hooded sith, "Maybe you find them already? We can give coin, give aid, take them back, yes?" She pats her bow, "We come with weapons for the wild things, not for the people we can speak with."
"You are kin, so this one will share words, and this one will listen, and have the others here listen within reason." Seyardu states, thumping their tail once against the ground. "And I would like to know why you would force these people away from here, who is commanding you. This is strange to hear, and I cannot help but feel concerned."
GAME: Seyardu rolls sense motive: (19)+8: 27
There is another silent snarl, and the figure even snaps its teeth... there is definitely a feral feel to this creature, though it makes no move forward. The shrouded head tilts to the side, though, an act of consideration perhaps. Then the head lowers as the figure starts backing away. "The warning hasss been given. I will give you thisss. The sssoftsskinss have been marked... if you sseek to aid them, you will share their fate. These landsss are not for you or they. Perhapsss... if you can convince them to leave, then there can be... an accord."
Auranar looks from Seyardu to the other sith and back again. "I don't know what to do here. Leaving Seyardu alone isn't really an option, but I don't want to be tresspassing on someone else's lands?" She looks at the caravanners who hadn't answered her questions and sighs. "Maybe you can go... talk to them some more Seyardu? Convince them to at least help us find the people who went missing?"
Lyme listens, arms folded on his chest. He doesn't react.
GAME: Jinks rolls Knowledge/Geography: (13)+10: 23 GAME: Randolf rolls Knowledge/History: (12)+10: 22
When they step back, Seyardu holds up a hand. "You do not want to speak to this one, but this one will listen still. Is there a reason you seem to be avoiding addressing me in return?"
"This one knows it is not good to be left on your own, but you say you were commanded by someone for this decision. Please, stay and speak, so we may reach an accord. And, if there is any help you need, this one can see what can be done." <Draconic>
The little lucht exhales. She sits taller in her saddle, but can only sit up so much. Sometimes, the parlays do not go the right way, and good people might disagree. She hopes the hooded Sith'makar might be good and honourable, but that remains to be seen. Battle tests and shows the mettle of all.
"Okay," She finds a cheerfulness to put in her voice, "There is more to this than I know, I let the others speak."
The caravan is rather close to your destination now, expecting to be there within the day.
"How long have your father's farmer associates been working the land here?" Jinks wonders of Eddard, half-watching Seyardu attempt to keep the enigmatic sith's attention as he sucks his teeth in thought. Finally, it comes to him. The farmer's daughter from outside of Happy Valley. Something about ideal lands; she really did like to talk about putting things into the ground. And taking them out. And dirt. Now it's just the issue of remembering the fraction of that relevant to this conversation.
Randolf lifts a hand to tug thoughtfully at his beard, his shaggy red brows furrowing in thought. "Newhome... it really -is- a new home, innit?" he mutters. "But even so... ye'd think if they were hornin' in on someone else's territory, they'd have done summat 'bout it sooner, nay?" He lifts his chin to address the Sith. "Friend, we've nae want tae be intrudin' on anyone's land. All we're concerned with is gettin' these missin' folk back tae their homes an' their families. If some o' them -have- given offense, then surely there must be some way tae reach an accord, isn't there?" He keeps his tone even and level. This is talk time, not door-kicking-in time.
As more people weigh in, the hooded reptilian seems to grow more agitated. More steps are taken back, and the figure seems to hunch in on itself. The ones carrying crossbows grow more agitated in turn, Steiv having reloaded his by now, though at least he, unlike Chiv, hasn't aimed his yet. Martle, is just trying to make himself look even smaller. Eddard responds to Jinks. Well.. His eyes never leave the hooded figure. I'd say we picked them up on our regular route about two years ago...? There wasn't much to see.. a commons house, a smithy.. a few farms. They somehow manage to grow decent food there. Excellent potatoes.
Enough! If you would sssave those tressspassers, then make them leave! You have until nightfall overmorrow! Forssake the misssing and begone by that time! And then the snout turns directly towards Seyardu. "Thisss one hasss nothing to say to you, ssseeeks no aid. You are as them, and are welcome to them!" The figure, having pulled further away at this point, turns... and then steps abruptly out of sight, into the brush. The brush conceals. <unknown>
Paenitia remains where she is, in the saddle. More importantly, Ramirez remains where he is. There is no chasing, no snap shots from her bow. Her expression is hidden by the fixed grin of her stylized mask. The voice from behind it does not match it in glee, her tones are heavy. She looks at the silverscale, "Friend Dragon, what he say?"
She knows already, whatever it was, it wasn't good and the rescue mission has turned into a diplomatic one, and she's all out of dip sticks and tea.
Randolf tenses as the strange Sith grows more and more restless. The tension on -his- side of things is doing nothing to enhance the burly dwarf's calm. His hand creeps towards the grip of his wand. But then, the Sith is giving its final proclamation before fading into the wilds. He sucks a deep breath, making his large nostrils flare before he lets out a sharp sigh. "Right. We need tae get those people back. An' then'..." He looks back over his shoulder at the Crowes. "We might have tae be havin' a talk wi' yer people 'bout their security. These lands may not be safe."
"We can not help unless you are willing to speak. But we cannot forsake those missing, for their own sakes, and yours." Seyardu calls back, but the hooded figure is already disappearing. Then she sighs, and turns back to Paenitia to speak. "They stated they had nothing to say and no need of aid, that I was like or with them, and welcome. It seems there is more at foot here, but what particular, I can not say. It is not normal for kin to be out on their own like this, and I heard of no villages outside of Mictlan." <Draconic>
Lyme nods slowly, scowling at the brush and at the wagon-people. "Well shit." He shakes his head. "We still need to get the people back, though."
"Well, the swamp is a terrible place for a farm." Jinks remembers that much. She did this thing where she would spin a finger in her curls when she talked. She had a dimpled smile. "'You can farm in a swamp if you need to but there are almost always better options; swamp-farmers are stubborn folk.'" There it is. He shrugs when the cagey Sith stalks away, lips pressing together and eyebrows raising subtly in a 'what're you gonna do?' sort of expression.
"Nothing sizeable enough to really matter lays claim to this place as tribal lands. No nation is gonna go to war over it, either. Seems like the farmers are here for a specific reason or they just have awful luck."
The gnome sighs, sitting back in his saddle as he calls out to Seyardu. "We tried, tallman. Maybe we can convince the farmers to move to greener pastures but we'll have problems when the sith try to keep us from finding the taken." He sounds dubious about the former point. "Seems best we continue on to the farms, make our contacts there, and get what information we can before we go out in search of the missing. Maybe the hermit has enough sense to stay out of the way and we can get out of this without involving the Harpist." Again, doubtful.
The plan is to continue on with the caravan to the town. The four representatives of Crowe are intending to get to the town to at least deliver their cargo. They're inclined to leave right away to get as far away from what sounds like trouble as they can.
The Red Knight listens, nodding to Seyardu and then Jinks. "That sound the good plan, go on with the caravan to the town, find out what we can, figure the next thing out. Hopefully we do not have the small war over the swamp."
'ruuaaaaaaaahhh.' Ramirez agrees, he does not enjoy swamp fighting.
Jinks will skulk about the settlement trying to figure out if there's some specific reason they picked this place. Such as, they're a cult and wanna be away from nosey people. Or there's some ancient dragon burial ground and they're harvesting the fossils.
Especially the second one. Because a dragon once made Jinks almost poo himself and he wants to desecrate the resting place of one as revenge.
Randolf will probably be looking to scouting out the territory around the town. Get a feel for what all we might be dealing with.
He heads out into the swamp glowing with enough magical energy to power a city block. Casual.
The first night as the group settle in to rest at the small farming village, they can hear it, the swamp. It's distant but slowly, inevitably growing closer. The swamp is growing.
