We got heads up that Jessie Underwood and her people were staying at The Rook in Eastview, a gambling and restaurant establishment. We eventually made our way there where we had a chance to talk with Micah, the Warrior of Jessie’s party. He was getting pretty drunk at the better table of the Common Room and was willing to talk to the party. He missed his friend, Darrien the paladin, who died during the assault on the Grues. They had a plan at the start of all things to pool their resources and lease out half or a mountain, using their skills to timber, mine, and use the place to generate an income. Without Darrien, he was a bit lost. And was wondering what they were going to do now? Jessie just dropped everything. Has no interest in any further adventuring, any further money making, any further anything.
We suggested to Micah that he take a few weeks off and then look us up at Erylond. Skilled fighter, capable, and they had the chance to work with him already. He agreed to do it and wished us the rest of a good day. Jessie? She was upstairs.
We went upstairs (mostly Eoghan) and talked to the Halfling sorcerer. She was pretty distraught. Did not know what she was going to do. Misses her family. Misses everything. She seemed pretty messed up. Was more than willing to go and bury the rings with Eoghan tomorrow before the party made their way north and out of Stivil.
We rested up and Darius and Rhygar met us early on – cart and horses all ready, dead Grue strapped in place. We started off for the Farmer (former Bowman) homestead where Bjagnar and Gretta were at. Again, Gretta was done with us, but Bjagnar ran interference. A marking stone was set up and once the rings were interred, Eoghan had a moment to swap out the real wedding wings with the fake iron rings he had commissioned – leaving the entire party (and Jessie) none the wiser. We buried them over and then bid farewell, making our way north.
Travel was miserably slow. The next town was Manoria and at best a day and a half away, but the mud and thaw had turned the road to a quagmire and the horse worked hard to pull the wagon, the rest of the group struggling along. Plus we found ourselves going steadily upland, not quite there yet, but heading with surety to the Passian Hills.
It was 4:30 when we realized we were not going to make the way station place between the two towns. So the two rangers and the druid worked on setting us a decent camp and then we lit fire, tried our best to warm up the food, and realized we had gotten soft from all the good and city living as of late. A troupe of merchants did eventually join us, heading south from Manoria. Headman was named Nivers and gave us a clean report heading north to Manoria. A tribe of orcish Firvanir were about and they did shadow them, but left them alone for the most part.
We rested and the next day, both Eoghan and Gryg woke up in a foul mood. It was Airmonth the 15th and to brighten things up, Wilhelm suggested we go and hunt for some fresh meat this morning. Eoghan wanted nothing to do with it, but Gryg agreed. The two of them went off and Dizzy was wondering what was up with Eoghan. “Nothing. What’s up with you?” Ok..gonna leave the testy ranger alone.
Hunting wasn’t giving them anything definitive for a while until maybe a half hour out, the two trackers came upon a game trail. It was pretty big and little else in the area, so they followed it down until they came upon a spot with overgrown brush. Some growling just ahead. And then a wedge shaped head came out. Fuck, a skunk.
A four and a half foot long angry GIANT skunk. The ranger hoped to charm it…it failed and then grey angrier. Gryg tried to scare it off, shots fired – and nothing fazed the now angry skunk. Wilhelm hoped to Calm the animal, but the spell fizzled and it was now foaming mad. It charged at us and Gryg went to climb a tree, smashed his head on a branch and fell down. Wilhelm was unsure what to do but then ran as the skunk closed, whirled around, and gave the dwarf a direct blast of the potent and cloying musk.
Oh. My. God.
Blinded and moaning, Gryg tried to run ahead and stumbled and sobbed as the skunk chittered and growled at him. Wilhelm stayed hidden until the skunk went back. He then took a length of rope and tossed it again and again to Gryg who eventually grabbed it. He asked the druid to go back for his crossbow which he did, but got musk on his hands for it. The two of them were hacking and choking, puking and spitting. And Wilhelm slowly led the dwarf back west to the party.
“They’ve been gone a while,” Dizzy commented after an hour. “Should we go look for them?” Eoghan was in no mood and suggested they wait longer. “How long?” Eoghan grunted a non committal answer and the party continued to wait. It was 10:30 when the sad pair returned. The smell was enough to get the group horrified. Plus it was noted that Gryg’s clothes were actually being eaten by the skunk’s spray, holes and rents in the fabric. We pooled our soup, had him strip naked, and then some hole was dug and create water was put in place. The two of them did their best to clean up but this was going to take a few days to get it all gone. Wearing a different set of clothes, we led the dwarf ranger again on the road, the party slogging through the mud northward.
We were going very slow. We arrived at the midpoint waystation about 3:30 and decided to just rest here. Without Gryg’s help, gathering for the camp took a bit longer but we eventually settled down – making sure Gryg was far enough away. Once more we ate poorly heated food and grumbled at the length of the trip so far and the mistroubles they’ve had.
And then the wandering orc tribe showed up. They were respectful and wanted to trade with us – good iron or steel knife? We had one and they gave us 3 pelts and 3 polished lapis lazuli stones for it. They went on their way and we tried to rest up.
Eventually a group of dwarves from Ironcamp came through, headed by a Contar Reeteresbeard. A distant cousin of Gryg, we shared some talk of the road and the parties pooled their watch together. Nothing else untoward happened and we woke up again heading north and on our way to Manoria. Eoghan and Gryg were even more frustrating today. In fact, the dwarf had gotten in a back and forth with Dizzy when he tried to climb on the wagon, tired of walking and being left behind the party. He got kicked off the buckboard for his efforts, slamming his chin to the wood before getting filthy. “I told you to stay off!” Gryg wiped himself clean and grumbled the whole way.
We pressed on and it was after dark, 7:30 on Airmonth the 16th, when we finally arrived at Manoria. Situated on a rise of rock and walled about, home to maybe 800 people, the place was pretty seedy. A stately Manor house sat at the highest perch in the place. The guards let us in even though curfew had closed the gates. The main inn in town was the “Dead Horse” and there might be rooms there. A few of us went to check it out but the Inn did not have a stables there- only a hitching post. We instead went to the stables here at the main gate and arranged to have out wagon and horse tended to.
Gryg meanwhile had spoken to the proprietor of the place and learned that there were no rooms right now. Lots of whores were about, Gryg rebuffed them. He did order a beer which the guy filled by DUNKING a mug into some open trough behind the bar and handed it over. Gryg held it, and refused to drink.
The group all got together, Gryg making sure the group did not order anything, and they learned that the Widow Percy sometimes has rooms to rent. We got her address and went to a well maintained upper class home just on the north end of Manoria. The Widow Percy was happy to rent to us, 3 rooms, 48 bits. We paid and she shared some dinner with us, regaling us of her past husband, Lars, who was a wyvern hunter in his younger days. She too participated, but mostly her skills were used in helping to harvest the reptilian’s tail venom. Seems that Lars was well liked and had sponsored lots of the building of this town. We also got the impression that the Widow Percy was more than capable of handling herself if need be. We shared back with her and the evening ended up being very pleasant.
We rested real well, even Eoghan and Gryg were in a fine mood. Wishing her well and agreeing to come back this way if need be, the group went off to the stables, made sure the horse, wagon, and cargo were ok, and then by 8:30 AM on Airmonth the 17th, left Manoria behind riding north through the Passian Hills, knowing it was 2 and a half days to Iron Camp assuming the road was good and no issues on the way.
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