On Alert

As the party turns to see what Flen is referring to, Snorri lets out an annoyed grunt. At the door stand two men, in full plate armor. One of the men is talking to a barmaid, who is pointing directly at Snorri's table. Before anyone can even take a breath, the men walk quickly to the table.

The first man addresses Snorri directly without so much as a glance at the other guests. "Sir, we have another kidnapping. A miner's son."

Snorri sobers up quickly, and stands up. "How long ago?"

"Sir, it happened after sunset. We were contacted, but old Bremmil refuses to tell us where his son might have been. He's certain he was kidnapped, however."

Snorri tugs at his beard. "Hmm, probably his ore-mine. Stubborn fool! Does he not value his son more than his ore!! Well, let me see if I can talk some sense into him." Snorri grabs his axe, and slings it across his back.

For a moment, he looks at his half-eaten meal, and then at the party. "Aye, finish up friends. The meal is paid for. I'll let you see to your own rooms." As an afterthought, Snorri stabs another piece of meat with his dagger, and heads towards the door.

A Drink with Snorri

Entering the large common room of the Inn brings an immediate assault on all the senses. Bright torch sconces line the border of the room, as well as each central support post, lighting even the most remote corners of the room. The sound of laughter, shouting, and the clinking of metal drinkiing mugs fills the space, and a variety of smells, both pleasant and foul, waft here and there.

Snorri is already sitting at medium sized table located along the wall near the main doorway, and is speaking with a heavyset human woman with brown hair in a single long braid. He seems to be arguing with her, and they both are gesturing angrily. At your approach, a couple of dwarves vacate their seats at Snorri's table, taking their mugs and furrowed brows to another part of the room. The human woman, who appears to have had the final word, stomps towards a large swinging door (the kitchen?) with an exasperated look on her face. Snorri waves impatiently at the party to come join him.

Grabenhorst

After the group finishes collecting their things, and hiding as much of the activity that happened there, they continue to move along the road towards the big town as the last of the sun dips behind the trees.

It doesn't take long for the farms to turn into buildings, and the number of people on the road to increase fairly dramatically (even this late in the evening). Brightly burning torches light either side of a large stone archway decorated with elaborate carvings surrounding the word "Grabenhorst" at the very top.

Entering the city itself, it is clear that there is all manner of goods and services available here. Just since the archway, you've seen shops for a tailor, a butcher, a smithy, a bank (at least that's what the party decides it must be), and a small temple. Of course, all of these shops are closed at current, with only swinging wooden signs to identify their purpose.

It is also clear that a large portion of the people in the streets are dwarven miners, down from the mountains to trade, rest, and drink. From the raucous laughter coming from the occasional tavern (you see at least three!), you don't doubt that the latter occurs more often than not.

A fairly large building with a thatched roof, marks the center of town, and boasts a broad colorful sign with an image of a bread loaf and a bed. Below that, the words "Graben-Grub Inn" are scrawled in elaborate cursive, and are nearly too fancy to read. Quite a number of people are stomping in and out of the large lit doorway, though many take refuge on the benches lining the porch that winds around the building itself. A cold wind reminds the party that it has been some time since they last rested, and a room and a meal would be welcome change.

Trouble in the Suburbs (continued)

Where we are: The man with the knife is long gone, still responding to Bammit's COMMAND somewhere in the woods beyond the hills. The man threatening the party with a rock is unconscious, and now (having been tossed by Omar), laying face down in the dirt next to the cart.

Omar (sword drawn) is facing off with the sword-wielder, who just made a wild (and fairly unsuccessful) swing at Omar. Bammit and Flen are facing the club-wielder, who also just missed with an clumsy swing of his pathetic homemade spiked club.

With yet another successful initiative roll for the party, Flen arrives just in time to swing his short sword for 1 hp of damage on the club-wielder (see comments in previous post for more details).

Omar and Bammit are ready for their next swing/action...

Trouble in the Suburbs

The group continues past the fork, heading east along the road to Grabenhorst. A couple of hours pass before the first homes and farms of the Grabenhorst metro-plex become visible. You pass a number of people travelling in the opposite direction, carrying various goods on their backs or heads. None say much more than a nod, and hurry past you with a wide berth.

As the sun wanes behind you, and your shadows grow long down the road, you see a group of dirty, rough looking men with scraggly beards leaning against a broken cart and eyeing your approach. One of the men pushes himself off the cart, and stumbles onto the road to block your passage.

"The hell you think yer goin?", the man grunts. A couple of the other men laugh, and another steps onto the road to join his comrade. The first man continues, pointing at Flen and Bammit with a gnarled finger, "Theesh yer bodyguardsh? Ho ho ho ho. Thaint gunna help ya HERE!" The man stumbles slightly as he pulls out a large rusty knife. The second man picks up a fist-sized rock, and holds it at his side. The other two ruffians continue to lean on the cart, laughing a bit too hard at the first's joke.

Gaining confidence, the first man steps towards the group. "Now, I shuggest you drop thoshe packsh, and git!"

A Fork in the Road

[Rather than belabor another merchant transaction, which is time consuming in this forum, I'll assume that everyone purchases a small bag of "trail mix" from Anna for a copper piece, and immediately packs out of the village - if you'd rather not spend the coin, that's fine too.]

Anna and the boy with the walking stick escort you to the northern edge of the town. The older woman that met you at the beginning is there, and acknowledges you with a slight nod of her head. Griff is there too, but he seems too busy scanning the woods to notice your departure.

The road north is short, and it sidles quickly into the trees. The land to the west of the road slopes upward, as you travel along the base of a sizeable hill covered in small trees and bushes.

It is not long before you come across a "fork" in the road, just as Hinrick described. Actually, its more like the road turns to the east, as the northern road looks much less traveled, and is quite overgrown. Nailed to a gnarled old tree surrounded by shrubbery and vines, there is a small wooden sign with the word "Grabenhorst" written in Dwarven, pointing to the east.

As you approach the sign, there is a significant amount of rustling in the bushes.

Hinrick

Anna's directions turn out to be precise, and it is not long before Omar locates the skin-bag man named Hinrick.

Hinrick turns out to be a older man with a cleancut chin, and a muscular build. Wearing only a tight pair of brown shorts, and a bright blue vest, he turns at Omar's approach and watches with a little too much interest.

Hinrick grins and walks forward a few steps, extending a hand to Omar. "Welcome!" he says in a surprisingly deep gruff voice. "Name's Hinrick! I'm guessing you are here to check out my skin bags!" Hinrick winks at Omar once and then quickly vanishes into his hut. A few moments pass, and he comes out with an assortment of finely constructed carrying bags with strong leather straps.

Hinrick elbows Omar and speaks in a lowered voice, "The trick is in the sewing. Don't matter how good the skin is that you are using if you can't make them stick together!" Hinrick bellows out a loud laugh that gets the attention of nearby villagers, some of whom smile, and others who shake their heads.

Hinrick slaps his hand down on the pile of bags. "You can take away any one of these for a silver piece." Hinrick looks at the fish rack on Omar's back and laughs out loud again, this time startling a couple of children playing nearby. "No offense, my friend, but that thing you have on your back looks most uncomfortable. You may find that one of my skin bags lain across your shoulders will be much more accomodating, especially if you plan on swinging that big sword of yours around!"

The Villa of Svana

The night passes without incident. The beating of the waves against the shore provides a relaxing environment for the travellers, and everyone rises well rested. The group packs up and begins moving north along the shore road once again.

Before the sun has moved to the highest point in the sky, a large village is spotted ahead, partially hidden amongst the trees away from the water. The beach has gone from being mostly sand, to being mostly sharp black rocks and shrubs. Though it's hard to tell from your vantage-point, this town appears to be similar in size to the first fishing village you encountered. Unlike the previous village of Unnur (if in fact that was it), this place is alive and bustling.

On your approach, the sound of a horn is heard, and a small detachment of people walk to meet your group. There are three young men dressed in leather shorts and vests, and an older (40s) woman wearing a drab brown dress with a bright blue flower embroidered on one side. One of the more muscular men in the group, carries a sword at his side, and looks sternly at Omar. Another, younger man, carrying a long walking stick, is the first to address you, which he does with a flourish of his arms. "We have been expecting you." The woman scowls, and smacks the younger man in the arm before turning to the group. "Hail there travellers. What business have you here in Svana?"

Nightfall

Leaving the fishing village is a bit anticlimactic. None of the people bid you farewell, and they seem to ignore you as you leave the area. Even the children have returned to their activities, as if nothing unusual has happened.

Walking along the coast is rather peaceful. The constant sound of the ocean breaking on the beach is all that keeps you company along the quiet coast road, and not a single other traveller is encountered.

With the sun low on the horizon, and the beginnings of what appear to be dazzling array of colors dancing across the water's surface, you come across a small village. Really it is nothing more than a few ragged huts. There are no people around, but it is clear that the village is not abandoned (smoke rises from a small fire pit, clothes are hung out on pole, fresh fish lies in a pile next to some tools, etc).

As nightfall quickly approaches, it's best if the group finds a place to make camp.

A Glimpse Down Shore

Reyka nods approvingly at Bammit's efforts to help the injured in town. She speaks softly to him while he examines a rash on the arm of one child. "Our own healer died recently. She was as talented as she was old. Unfortunately, her prodigy has a lot to learn about the art, and has yet to prove her worth." Reyka frowns and shakes her head in silent thought.

Reyka looks to the north. "If your path lies along the shore, you will pass by the people of Unnur. They will likely hide from you, and I recommend not seeking them out." Reyka's stern voice indicates she is not kidding. "A days travel further, you should come across the village of Svana. Respect them as you did us, and you'll have no problems, especially if you plan to part with some coin." Reyka smirks at her last comment, and walks towards a hut in the center of the village. "Come with me when you are finished, and we'll discuss trade."

The group follows Reyka to the hut, and find several younger women arranging fish on the tables. Reyka leaves the hut, and an attractive young women approaches the group, as she gestures towards the nearest table. "You like fish?"

[DM Note: The villagers have developed an excellent method for preserving the fish so you can take them way into the mountains for trade. They will load you down with all the protein you need for about 1gp. There's not much else available here for trading, so buy what you want, and move on. It's clear from Reyka's manner that you are not welcome to stay the night.]

Guest DM

I'm going to take over DM'ing for a bit, until Snabby can get his head above water again. He's provided me with a small bit of his grand design, so I'm going to go with that. I need to peek at a couple of things in my D&D books before I post anything, but I'll probably have something up tonight or tomorrow.