One of my players runs a gnome and we had some run in with others. The gnomish homeland is falling into fascism and this party never had a chance to learn about it wholesale. So this was a good 1st one shot - get the group to see a campaign villain as the "good guys" and learn about some of the gnomish area and history.
Follows:
On the eastern end of the former Randari Ympyr, stands the Nightwoods, the ancestral home to gnomes as far back as any record goes. Original documentation also showed that halflings and elves lived there in roughly equal numbers but most elven families have left over the centuries and halflings over time filled with wanderlust have been emigrating out.
Some 130 years ago, normally on good terms with the orcish and dwarven enclaves, it was when the Orcish Kaizer started his expansionist push that the Nightwood gnomes were approached to help control the growing orcish threat. The matter was debated and eventually voted upon, and although it was a close vote, the decision of the Nightwood gnomes was to go to war. Gnomes are long lived (3 ½ times the average lifespan of a human) and gregarious creatures - they like to talk and they like the company of other creatures - especially gnomes. An individual gnome would get angry - but a group of them to commit to all out war is almost unheard of.
After 4 years of fighting and the increasing xenophobic and bloodthirsty destruction the Gorokian Mountain Dwarves were displaying was enough for the Nightwood Gnomes to drop out of the combat and instead work for peace. Their removal from the conflict was enough for the Jarlborrin and Reetersbeard dwarves to do the same about a year later; leaving the Gorokian Dwarves to continue their aggression for another year until every far flung outpost, keep, and orcish stronghold of power and government had been destroyed.
It soured the relationships between Gorok and Nightwoods ever since.
Normally all beliefs are welcome in gnomish society but the atrocities the dwarves exacted on the orcs for 6 years followed by the next 2 decades the gnomes spent on rebuilding, aid, and support for the broken orcish, human, and other races ravaged by the war; made the following and belief in Odin, Thor, Sutur, Thrym, and Tyr seriously impacted and diminished in the gnomish homeland. Open displays of worship were looked upon with some disdain and suspicion; warmonger, dwarf lover, and baby killer were bandied about often.
As the years went on the gentler gods were given sway and a greater impact on Nightwood society. Garl Glittergold and other ancestral gnomish figures were always revered but maybe 4 decades ago a powerful orator and adherent for Garl rose to the head of the religious order where he espoused his name and took only the title of Deacon.
Since then the following of Garl exploded - with public festivals, singing, dancing, shows, public works, and a firm rebuke for those who don't allow his followers their due. In time the following of the other gods also began to wane. Some of the fields began to have fewer yields, hunts became less fruitful, and some trees might have had some sickness upon them.
The followers of Garl Glittergold did not suffer from these issues and offered to lend his help and prayer to those who needed his help - for a small stipend, a tithe - barely 5%. And again, the Deacon and the Garl Glittergold church prospered.
Other shrines were defaced, statues quietly removed, markers taken down. Priests and clerics were publicly ridiculed and chastised. The Deacon was eventually invited to be the High Lord's religious confidant - further expanding his reach and power. Other impacts of the other gods and even races were now being reduced further. Dwarven caravans were turned away at the borders, and then other caravans were denied entry. Immigration trickled and the High Lord repurposed the gnomish armed forces to be one of protection - keeping all other races out.
And then the High Lord, always prone to bouts of brain fever, fell into a coma. Not dead, his heirs could not assume the throne - so it was up to the council to rule until he either awoke or passed on. The Deacon consolidated power amidst the council and was elected as the First or head councilor. He took the honorific of Theocrat and said to speak for the High Lord and Garl Glittergold for the betterment of all gnomes and gnomekind.
The Nightwoods is a Monarchy Republic - meaning there is a titular High Lord, about 5-8 other lesser Lords, and 6-9 Counselor positions (always one more than Lords on the council). Lord titles are passed down to next eldest is line (no restriction on male/female) - Counselor Titles are appointed by the committee of the Council and are retained for a 15 year window or if the Counselor steps down, dies, or is found to be unanimously incapable of doing his job.
Because the High Lord is NOT dead - his seat is not open for his heirs to take - even though the next in line does sit on the Council as one of the 5-8 lords (since they are ostensibly the next head of the noble house). So unless they are willing to declare their father and leader of the gnome people dead (which no one is willing to do), the situation is in limbo. Hence the Council is still doing its job and guiding the Nightwoods gnomes.
Each Lord gets a vote, and Counselor gets a vote, and the High Lord gets 2 - for decision making purposes. Without the High Lord there, the Council is functioning differently - hence why the Theocrat has been able to solidify power - the Lords he can't do anything about - but any dissenters on the Counselor positions he has slowly changed the make up to be even more loyal to his view of the Nightwoods - and to be honest - the Lords are making money hand over fist especially since it is their properties and people that is driving all the industry and crafting - and not outside "barbaric" merchants from beyond their borders.
He tightened his grip on the Nightwoods and some gnomes not liking the way things were going agonized over the decision to leave but eventually did so. And many of them were denied the chance to leave! Turned BACK from the border, they were then taken by the Theocrat's people where they were indoctrinated again into the ways of Garl Glittergold, and taught that they have a purpose in gnomish society and that is to be a member of it - the outside world is not here and is not safe. This is the gnomish ancestral home and has been so as far back as history goes, at least a thousand years, definitely longer. You. Don't. Leave.
Ever.
Those who go through the indoctrination come out with 3 axioms that they often hold up.
Adherence to the Nightwoods is inimical to every gnome.
If you love the Nightwoods, then you love its leader, the Theocrat.
And 3) If you listen to the Theocrat's teachings and advice, then you show your love for our god, Garl Glittergold.
Otherwise gnomish families try to leave and the loudest dissenters sometimes just disappear.
There is a network of underground tunnels and escape ways that various centaurs, fauns, and satyrs help maintain along with a core resistance of gnomish followers of Idun and Frey who don't live in the 5 principal cities; instead make the homes and lives in the wild and try always to avoid capture by the Theocrat's Defenders. They help spirit the various gnomes in and out of the Nightwoods to others beyond the borders to eventually get these gnomes away and to safety. It is long, difficult, and expensive to maintain and do - but until the High Lord dies, wakes up, or the Theocrat is removed from power - to some gnomes this terrible choice is all that's open to them.
The five of you have attracted the attention of the local Theocrat Defenders for a variety of reasons. Perhaps you were a servant at a locale where sedition was being talked about and you were in ear shot. Perhaps you had complained about the paucity of local wares and spoke longingly about trade goods that are no longer available. Mayhap your family was important in the past days with regards to various now unsupported deities and churches. Or maybe during your teachings, some of your lessons might have made their way through a variety of channels and your tenure was called into question.
However it came about, you were given instructions to pack a bag, one and light, and make your way south to the principal city of Deerwood, a home to some 3,000 gnomes. Once there, there is a wedding (a planned 2 day affair at least) at the Deerwood Manor house for Thurge and Mellie. You were given an invitation and told to arrive at the wedding the day before. You were told to stay in a crowded area, say nothing, make sure you had at least 2 silver on you, and to not lose your invitation no matter what.
So we had Sprink Wobbledrop, an upper-class scion just past his 130th year of age, and ewerer at the Function House in Nightdale. Peppy Pothercary, a healer and herbalist, practicing apothecary in his 140’s. Scrambles Lemonbreath was a teacher of 4th form students in Foxmanor and a matronly gnomish woman in the latter half of her 20th decade. Charles “Seagull” Vadurn was a spinster for the Springlesprocket Loomworks who was on a bit of hard times striving to achieve his journeyman card before hitting his 100th year. And lastly Garrick Silverlight, a tall gnome, was a practicing Atilliator and craftsman even though he hadn’t hit his 90th year.
Each of them arrived on their own, by foot, coach, or railcar, and each of them had what worldly belongings they could carry and a healthy concern for getting out of the Nightwoods before the Theocrat Defenders found them. They arrived at the Manor House and were directed to some of the bunk houses to house themselves in. The Wedding promised to have some 400 attendees and the gnomes each felt they could blend in for now. A few of the Defenders were seen, but none were necessarily watching anyone in particular.
After striding the grounds and going through their belongings, conversation was light at best; no one wanted to say anything to anyone in particular. It was in the early evening that a knock came to the bunkhouse door and a corpulent gnome by the name of Ruffles was there seeking Sprink. Upon coming in, he also looked around the room and addressed Peppy, Scrambles, Seagull, and Gerrick – as if he was looking for them as well.
He worked some magic and his form reduced to half the weight, his features changing as well. He was the first part of our contact and his job in this part of the railroad was to verify who the party was, and then bring them to the next person in the chain – a gnome named Konami. During the wedding tomorrow around 11, they were to go to the Portico and meet Ruffles there, and he would get them into the Manorhouse and to their contact. He told them to be careful; this was a long trip and was costing some money to get them out. Various benefactors both in Nightwoods and outside of it in the greater Randari area were supporting this and other smuggling endeavors and each cell only knew their portion of the “railroad” to prevent the path from being sussed out.
Lastly, there was a Theocrat Defender from the Main Monastery in Foxmanor, named Vulpurus, who had been seen arriving during the day. The group should keep their noses clean and say nothing outside of their circle of 5 for now.
We thanked Ruffles and then after he left, the party spoke at length about their lives and the need to leave the Nightwoods; even though the need to do so was heartbreaking. And when gnomes get emotional, it is a good time to eat. So they made their way to the Buffet Roundabout where they merged in with some 50 other gnomes, took a plate, and walked around section to section, sampling various foods, cheeses, meats, and sauces. They pulled to the outer ring to eat slower and then back to the inner ring to refill their plates again.
Finally they had retired to their bunkhouse and slept, anxious to see what the next day would bring. They awoke, made sure their belongings were packed up and ready to go, and went to the wedding. Thurge and Mellie seemed very happy and made a nice looking couple. There were well over 400 people about and afterwards, there was some stand around time while servers came by with trays of various foods. A discussion had was that with the cost of sugar being so high and difficult to grow over the last number of years, the majority of gnomes had to make due with maple candy – which was just a terrible candy. And the possibility that someone would eventually learn that a candy serving at the start of a meal makes more sense than having it appear at the end of a meal.
As for the Defenders, there were at least a dozen of them wandering the wedding grounds. The locals were doing their level best to ignore their presence while the Defenders, in their distinctive red and black tabards and cloaks, walked slowly through the throng, eyes peeled and focus sharp. One of them was a sharp faced looking gnome in his 150’s, who had very distinctive red hair cut in such a way that it stood straight up, a patch of white running from his temple back. He was also behaving differently. He would pointedly stare out at one gnome or another for a minute or two, concentrating on them for some reason, before shaking his head, blinking a bit, and then centering on another gnome to look at and starting the process again.
Sprink advised that we all move on as it was already getting a bit after the end of the ceremony and Ruffles was waiting for us. There was a brief delay as 3 of the party looked to top off on one more hit from the travelling sample trays (which Gerrick happily took in the entirety) but we all made it away from the food area and started to walk around the Manorhouse. At the portico, we came upon Ruffles (in his “fat” form) and he began to wax long and agonizingly about cigars and the best way to enjoy them. His topic had other local gnomes make themselves scarce as they had been subject to this conversation before, giving us a clear window to join him on “his way to the humidor”.
We arrived at the smoking room and joined him around a display where he talked about the cigars at length, voice carrying to inspire other gnomes to not come in and check. He had signaled us NOT to close the door (as that would appear to be suspicious) and tapped the side of the display, pointing it out to Scrambles. The teacher looked there and a hidden layer had been pulled aside to show a number of markings (up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, two, one) before Ruffles had hidden it again.
He said he would go and get us some wine to enjoy with the cigar and would be right back, tapping the back of the display, where we could see the bottom end of it swung free. Once he was gone, the party got down low and crawled into the space behind and under the wall, cramped and dark, but in the bowels and bones of the Manorhouse. A rail thin gnome with a foul smell and holding a long stick with a sweep on the end, made sure we all came in, counting us off.
He introduced himself as Konami and there was a series of catacombs and caves that stretched away from the Manorhouse and south and west from here. The exit was maybe 2 miles away and when they came out, they would meet the “Baggers” who would take them on the next part of their journey. He led us to the start of the caves and told us to follow the code as it would get us out at the correct spot at length. Failure would mean they might be lost down here forever. He gave us a water skin filled (1 gallon), handing it to Sprink.
So the group walked on, relying on their infravision to guide them through. At each junction we discussed if it led us in the direction of the Konami code, and if it didn’t, we stayed on the main course. We came upon a fat mole at one point, Gerrick speaking with it, that wanted to be fed before it would let us through, and its job was to make sure no one followed us through the tunnel. So we gave up most of the finger foods we had taken from the wedding and moved on. There were some turns and the passages went up and down. We came upon a down section that we needed to take but it was a 6 foot drop. So Gerrick hung from the bottom rung and allowed the rest of the party to climb down his legs and drop.
Sprink and Peppy were not exactly thin, and Gerrick was getting weary after cycling them both down. So he dropped and they all helped catch Seagull who went last. There was another area where one of the support beams was missing and we used a candle to light the way, picking our way across and eventually making it to the other side. The quality of the cavern was changing from stone to stone and hard packed dirt, and the air was tasting fresher.
There were 2 bodies in the cave, both dead, at least 3 weeks. They were rotting, but turning them over showed them to be 2 of the Theocrat’s Defenders – distinctive tabard visible. One had a short sword, the other a hand crossbow and a smattering of bolts. Peppy took the tabard and snapped his fingers, removing the odor from it for now. Scrambles took the short sword and its poor scabbard. And Gerrick the hand crossbow and 4 bolts, knowing that it was going to need at least a half hour of his attention to get it working properly.
We did eventually come to the end and found a shaft heading straight up. So one of us went first, coming to the exit and looked around. Seeing half a dozen half ogres sitting around the remains of a campfire, eating turkey.
Damn it.
He got into an awkward one way conversation with one of them who was talking poor gnomish, asking if there were “Other gnomes”. Um, others? I dunno. Maybe? Meanwhile after he was instructed to come out, the next one had crawled up and was pulled out by another half ogre.
Damn damn.
The rest stayed low, and one of them had a shovel and started to dig into the hole, sticking its hand in and reaching around. The two had come up realized that these were the “Baggers” and we were given turkey legs to eat. Mollified, the rest of us came out and we joined them here. We ate and were told we would have to get in the bags they were carrying. It was a long walk, and we might be stopped, so SAY NOTHING.
So we ate and when they offered us cup fulls of river water, Spink declined, using the skin, and sharing it with Peppy. The others drank the full cups, opting not to comment on the strange taste. We were told to stand still and they wrapped their lean-tos and gear together, with us in the center of each bag, and hung from a long pole like a hobo stick. They then took dozens and dozens of pine cones and placed them over us, burying us in the sacks. Gerrick, not wanting to have any problem with “pee” later, used his tankard in front of himself inside the sack, just in case, and the Baggers led us out, telling us that there was a storm coming and we would need that to get where we needed to be.
We walked on for some time, uncomfortable in the bags, but told often by the half ogres to BE QUIET and DON’T MOVE no matter what! It was some hours later, after fitfully sleeping and feeling cramped, that we could hear the Baggers had been hailed by a number of wood or wild elves. They had instructed the Baggers that no one can cross their area without being searched. The Half Ogres refused and some discussion followed, getting heated. The Baggers reiterated that they had pine cones and they were taking them to trade. Not believing it, one of the elves said, “We’ll see about that!” and stabbed one of the bags! (not one with a gnome in it – random check!).
Pine cones came out, and the elves were confused. So more words followed and the elves targeted a second bag…also getting more pine cones. Not wanting to lose face, they instructed the Baggers that these pine cones were tribute and would be left here as payment for their passage and the brutes can move on. As we travelled away, Seagull commented that the pettiness of the elves over the pinecones that they surely didn’t want or need was very spot on and typical for elves.
We eventually stopped around early evening and we ate some dried meats and some water that Sprink had appear out of the ground. Scrambles was feeling poorly as the day went on, most likely the bad water the ogres had fed us at the start of the trip and she spent a large portion of the evening cramping up and finding a place to “feel better” in the woods for some privacy. As for Gerrick, his cup had only about ¼ of the “pee” in it, a fact he was proud of.
We cleaned up, ate, drank, and rested for a bit. But 4 hours in, the Baggers had us get once more in our carryalls, bundled us up, and said they had to get us to our destination by morning and there was still many hours to go. So it was through sheer exhaustion that we fell asleep.
The next day we arrived at a clearing in the woods where some burn had occurred. The sky was heavy with rain and some fat drops were falling. A ship was here, maybe 60’ long, 20’ wide. It had two leaning forward sails and long metal mesh netting along its port and starboard sides, and a set of very long and half full gas bags held from the mid to front end of the ship. It was old, worn, tired, with split wood and bits of rusty piping sticking out here and there. Emblazoned on the side was the name, “Westward Gale”. A crew of maybe 8 or 9 gnomes tended to it, and a wood elven woman wearing a patched yet still lovingly cared for naval uniform and captain’s insignia descended the gangplank.
She identified herself as Captain Notchers and thanked the Baggers for their help. She met the party and let them know that they were to provide 2 silver for their fare. We all paid up and were instructed that we were going to sail the incoming storm, harvest some lightning, and make good speed near Clearmeadow, but actually set down at the Hellburn Estate where we will then meet Dame Fireball Hellburn who would take up on the next stage of our journey. She let us know that this ship had been her grandfather’s originally and with the Theocrat having a tight grip on the Arcane Academy, raw magic was at a premium and fresh lightning could be used to power many of the Nightwood’s active and latent magics.
We were brought aboard and she advised us when we were airborne – NO MAGIC OF ANY KIND. It would act as a beacon for any of the Theocrat’s dreadnaughts that often patrol during the storms and the Westward Gale was not interested in picking any fights – especially with gnomes looking to emigrate.
The ship’s Bosun was a short, 2 and a half foot gnome, named Squirrel, who offered the party the chance to stay on deck or come below. Scrambles was going to the ship’s mage, Berkely, to get a tonic to fix her upset stomach, and Peppy was going there as well. Seagull went to the galley and met the cook there, engaging in another food conversation.
Sprink and Gerrick were on deck, meeting the crew and helping out, tying off ropes and getting the ship ready to cast off. The storm was getting closer. Berkely made up a tonic to fix Scrambles’ illness and when she was feeling better, went off to the Galley, while Peppy stayed behind and chatted with the mage a bit. Eventually it was time to take off and the coal bunkers were stoked, steam fired, and the gas bag inflated.
The Westward Gale listed to port, then straightened out, and then turned and rose into the air, gaining altitude as it did so. Sprink and Gerrick had both mimicked the other crewmen and tied off a safety line on their belt. Even so, the ship did take a tilt at one point and Gerrick slipped, but his line held. For safety purposes, Sprink opted to wrap his rope around his belt an additional time.
As they closed on 1,000 feet, they were in the clouds and could see St Elmo’s fire running through the rigging and the bowsprit. The ship drew closer to the blasts of lightning going from cloud to cloud. The command came to extend the fins and the two party members helped the sailors in getting the metal fans, each over 40’ in length, to run out, flailing left, right, and down, acting as lightning rods dangling off the copped keel of the Gale.
Bolts drew closer and then one of them hit the ship! It ran through the fins, down the wires, and dumped the bolt of lightning into a large 50 gallon can with a fan inside that began to spin. Each bolt had the fans spin faster and faster, light spilling around. After a number of bolts had been captured, one of the crew shoved a cover over the can, released it from the catch hold, and it swung down, dangling from the bottom of the Gale, while a new can was fastened into place and the process started over again. Slink and Gerrick were soaked and working hard, but elated none the less.
In the Galley, Peppy had eaten his full and offered to take a tray or two down to Berkely in the engine room. The cook helped the apothecist out and he went to help. She was thankful for the food and company and gave the gnome a brief description of what he could do to help her out while she ate. Keep the coal box over 600 Celsius, there are 3 100 proof alcohol decanters if need be to flash the box. Shake the ash free, watch those dials, keep the boilers at full pressure. Peppy stepped up and for 10 minutes maintained the engines for Berkely before she finished eating, thanked him, and took over the job again. He chatted a bit more and then returned to the Galley.
As for Sprink and Gerrick, Captain Notchers and the helmsman had noticed a ship in the clouds, shadowing the Gale, visible when the lightning crackled. Not sure if it was a Theocrat vessel or a pirate hoping to take advantage of the Gale, it was decided that it might be best if they went below…just in case. The party all met at the Galley a bit and then we were escorted to a visitor’s berth near the bow of the ship. We talked about the journey so far and what was next, as well as how much Gerrick was enjoying being on a skyship. It seemed that Sprink had some experience on a skyship as well in his youth, but didn’t say anything specific about it. Gerrick spent some time working on the hand crossbow, confident that it would function for a bit more than one shot for now.
After some hours, something hit the side of the ship and the distant cries of the crew could be heard. Pirates! Some of the deck weaponry was being fired and we could hear the battle from our room, the party not wanting to go out and either get in the way or risk any other problem. The battle was going on for a bit when a loud crack of thunder sounded and the Gale fell to port a bit before righting. We could hear the cries of “Dreadnaught!” from above and we were getting concerned.
At this point we could hear running and Squirrel came running to the room. He advised us that pirates had attacked the Westward Gale and right now, the Golden Gambit, a Theocrat Dreadnaught, had disabled it and was demanding the Gale stop and allow themselves to be boarded and searched. Captain Notchers sent him here in the dark, lit only by the soft light of his left earring, to take then to the hold where they would be loaded in a drop ship and sent to the ground below to escape. They had to go now. Time was wasting and they had only a few minutes.
As they were being swayed, Peppy and Sprink both felt uncomfortable with Squirrel during all this, noting that he was wearing an earring – and it was glowing with active magic! A supposed no no! So Sprink sidled up to Squirrel while Peppy went behind…and slammed the door! The group braced Squirrel while Seagull was growing frantic on what to do and how to get out. Maybe get some help?
The gnome was attacked at first by Scrambles; she slashed at him with her short sword. For her effort, she was stabbed in the stomach deep and hard by a Kris blade that Squirrel expertly drew and had the gnomish matron dropped immediately to half!! Gerrick fired and a crossbow bolt hit, Squirrel yanked it out, blocking other blows with some ease. As he was lining up for another stab, Seagull managed to get out of the room, running through the ship, looking for help.
It was getting desperate when Sprink took out his precious vial of acid, used primarily for etching glass, and splashed the entire vial into Squirrel’s face.
“YEAARRGH!!!!”
His left eye burst, followed by most of his cheek and jaw line being eaten, as the pain maddening acid burrowed into his retinal cavity and eventually hit his brain, sending him into convulsions before he hit the deck brain dead and drooling, Sprink looking on with horror at what he had just done.
Seagull had found the Galley and the cook there brought him to Captain Notchers who was talking with the crew on what was going on. He explained briefly of the attack and double cross and the elven captain drew her sword and raced off to the room – to find the problem already solved and Squirrel dead. She commended Sprink on his actions and bravery, and told Seagull, that he probably acted prudently in going for help. There is no need for a drop ship and it was never her order. Looking Squirrel over, he had a scrip on him promising 30 silver each for any gnome trying to escape that he helps the Monastics reacquire.
His Kris bladed dagger was given to Sprink and his body was going to be tossed overboard. Captain Notchers gave the order to run – Dreadnaughts are powerful but very slow, and speed was our watchword. We could feel the engines pick up speed and the entire ship dove down and out of the sky, gathering velocity before banking left and right, going from cloud to cloud, and eventually giving the Golden Gambit the slip.
It was some time later that they were in the clear and the crew reiterated that Squirrel was a shit. We were near Clearmeadow but the Westward Gale turned south and east, and made their way for a small clearing some 10 acres or so in size, with a stately home and tower situated there. As we came in to land, a gnomish woman wearing dark robes trimmed in red and yellow fires and her staff met the Gale as the gangplank lowered.
She told Captain Notchers of her tardiness and was told of the party’s efforts, the Dreadnaught, and Squirrel. The crew had decided that the group should be thanked. Two canisters, about the size and shape of a metal thermos, were presented – one to Sprink for his killing blow at the Squirrel. And the other was to be given to either Peppy or Gerrick for their efforts as well. What was it? Each one had a bolt of pure lightning in it.
Nice.
Gerrick and Peppy talked a bit, each of them wanted it. And Gerrick SO wanted to join the Westward Gale and become a Lightning Harvester – but Captain Notchers told him that it was dangerous to the entire crew if he stayed and his path was elsewhere. He realized then that it was what he always wanted, lightning and everything, but didn’t know before today to it was ever an option. Peppy took a smattering of coins from the Atillitor and let him have the canister.
Dame Fireball was at one point a member of the Arcane Academy but as the Theocrat was rising to power, she could see the way things were going and “retired”, moving to her ancestral estate and staying here and out of the public eye. She is part of the underground railroad and uses her estate as a way point for gnomes looking to flee. She has a hollow space set up under the grain silo and they will stay there. At midnight, her long time friend, Undark, will meet them and it is three days from here to the next stage of their escape – a Thorpe named “Hopeless” and a contact named Sintankerin “Skank” Skunkherder.
She wished them well, helped them get set up in the hollow under the silo, showed them where the water skins and food stuffs were, and instructed them to rest up for now, it’s three days hard travel overland to the next locale. Once inside, some healing was given to Scrambles by Peppy’s healing kit and a natural touch or magic by Sprink. We loaded up about 4 days of food and water – it was going to weigh more, but as Seagull suggested, it was better to have more than not enough.
