The Threshold IC II (D&D E6, low-op, story based)

[Kaptin Keen]

Spoiler: Later

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As in, substantially later, it turns out.

Your travels are uneventful, and should be, since you're still inside the area regularly patrolled by the King's Lancers. As you travel on, the land becomes wilder, farms and fellow travellers rarer. Soon enough, you reach once more upon the ruins of ancient Zeltmar. Where you met the ghoul tribes - and close to the inn where you met the traveller Oro Garne.

Along the roadside are ghoul tribal totems marking this as their territory. The eerie feeling of the ruins is no less so now - you have a feeling as if the spirits of countless dead watch you from the shadows.

You arrive around midday, and presumably the ghouls will not emerge until dark has fallen.

[Woggle]

Bobin glances up at the sun. "Well, we've got a bit of time before the ghouls will be out. I think we should probably set up the mansion, just in case. If we need somewhere to retreat to, I can't think of anywhere better. Bobin hops down from the wagon and stretches out on the grass. A thought occurs to him in the midst of his relaxation, and the looks up to Clovius.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know any of the names from that battle with the undead, would you? I wonder whether any of our ghoulish acquaintances were there... and what side they fought on."

[Kaptin Keen]

Oh. Yes, I know many of the names - but they're all general this or lancer sergeant that or noble such-and-such. I'm afraid there's no account of the opposing forces, sadly. Replies Clovius, with a smile. It seems the undead army didn't take time to introduce themselves.

[iTookUrNick]

"As always, history is written by the winners." muses Jack

[Kaptin Keen]

Well - yes and no. History is written by the bards! For example: Madripore is distant from all the other great powers of our world - but Ul-Haq and Æhrengaard are neighbors, and have warred for centuries. And listen to the songs and stories of either side, they're both claiming victory in that eternal conflict.

Clovius' gaze wanders the ruins around you.

Funny thing about Zeltmar. It was a prety large city, a succesful vassal state of Madripore - and then the troubles began: Failing harvests, violent weather. Madripore helped it through, but then eventually, it fell to invasion. A large force of gnolls and centaur. Who are traditionally enemies, by the way, and live a very long way east of Madripore.

It's like .. fate or some other force simply didn't want Zeltmar to succeed, he muses.

As you ponder the fate of fallen Zeltmar, darkness falls - and with it, a slow drumbeat begins. *Thuum ta-Thuum* Slow and heavy, like the gates of hell slamming shut. You see them coming across the hills, the tribes of the ghouls, each under their standard. They do not march, like a military force - instead, they scurry and scitter, in sudden bursts of speed, reminding you somehow of locusts, or rats, or ... something.

Simeon, the scribe - who is still with you, even if he rarely makes an appearance - jumps at the sound, and makes sure to place himself behind someone larger and more imposing.

Ohh - do we have to do this again?

As the tribes gather, their leader emerges, carrying his weird staff. He seems even less coherent than last time, maybe out of sheer excitement.

Map-map? He enquires, map-map-map? The know of it? Ripe and fertile, soft soil to hide endless fields of bones? The know, the know? There is a somewhat scary gleam to his eyes, and slaver drips from his maw.

[Woggle]

Bobin does his best to stand tall (as tall as any halfling can, anyhow) and unwavering in the face of the advancing ghoul tribes. He pulls out his directions as the ghoul leader addresses the party, and hands them over. "These should lead you to a few old battle sites, where you'll find what you're looking for." Bobin adds in a brief description of where to find the battle-sites, in case the hand-drawn maps and notes aren't enough. "I'm sure you'll want to be on your way. I hope all of this is satisfactory?" Bobin tries not to think too hard about what could happen if the ghouls truly aren't satisfied. Just get this done, and we'll be back in Silverbrook in no time, he thinks to himself.

[iTookUrNick]

Jack too does his best to stand tall (as tall as any Goblin can, anyhow) and unwavering in the face of the advancing ghoul tribes. However, as they grow nearer and nearer, he flinches and instinctively pulls a little back. Fortunately, Bobin takes up the lead in the negotiations. Jack makes an effort to look alert as the halfling parlays with the ghouls, though he is ready to bolt back into the hut if things go south.

[Kaptin Keen]

The ghoul leader snatches the map, quick as lightning, then peers suspiciously at it - all the while fondling it in a manner that suggests you really shouldn't be watching. Finally, he looks up:

Bones bones dragon bones? Will bones of great sky lizard be here? Maybe? He traces the markings on the map.

[Woggle]

Bobin glances over to where the ghoul is indicating. "Ah... yes, there may be dragon bones there for you to find. Unfortunately I can't say in absolute certainty that they are still there. But there's a good chance they are, I think. Did you have any other concerns?" Bobin finds being so close to the ghoul leader a little off-putting, to say the least, but he maintains his composure for the moment.

[Kaptin Keen]

... dragon bones, whispers the ghoul shaman, enraptured. Fingers like restless spiders caress the indicated spot on the map, as his gaze becomes dreamy and distant.

Then, as if by a superhuman - or perhaps subhuman?! - effort of will, he pulls himself back, and continues:

Bones for bones, he erupts, excitedly, jangling some sort of natty leather bag - which rattles dryly, bones for bones for bones. We have elf bones for you, yes! Touch them not we did, never eat or lick or gnaw, no no no ... no.

He holds out the bag towards Bobin, urging him to take it. Take take, you take. Elf bones!

[Woggle]

Bobin steels himself and reaches out to take the bag. Best just go along with it for now, he thinks. "Yes... thank-you, this is very kind! What i've always wanted was a bag of elf bones... oh, pardon me. I wish you the best on your journey, then. May you make it safe and sound."

Bobin holds the bag with one hand underneath to support it, hoping against hope that the leather doesn't tear. He gives a small bow to the ghoul leader, then takes a step back. He does his best to smile reassuringly at the ghoul, but Bobin can begin to feel the muscles of his face tightening up, so it ends up being more of a grimace than a smile. Hopefully the ghouls don't mind.

[iTookUrNick]

Jack makes a thumb up motion to the halfling. The elven bones are great news, if they are genuine. But even if they are not, getting the ghouls out of the route to Silverbrook would have been good enough. He looks forward to seeing what alchemical boost can be concocted out of them. His thoughts are distracted by the ghoul repetitive words: dragon bones. Jack knows that tot should ring a bell but it really doesn't. The excitement of the last few days has taken his toll on him. Was this some alchemical thing, too?

Spoiler: Ooc

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A hint, if we may?

[Kaptin Keen]

Spoiler: A hint

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If it looks like a dragon, flies like a dragon, and the monster manual describes it as dragon kin - what could it possible be, I wonder?!

[WalkingTheShade]

With the ghouls gone, Jon fetches Simeon from behind himself. "It's a'ight, they gone now."

He then turns to Jack, and asks, for yet another time since the gang has left Madripore: "So, huh, we still far from Silverbrook?"

[iTookUrNick]

After hearing Jon's comment, Jack loudly smacks himself on the forehead. They put Silverbrook on that map, didn't they? And apparently, ghouls are fond of vivern bones. Who knew. We'll, Silverbrook might soon have a ghoul issue.
After a moment, Jack calms down. They probably mean to go to the Fist instead, where a very live vivern might have a say on what settles the grounds. And even if they became a nuisance later on, the mayor could hire them to clean shop. All in all, not a bad plan.
Having reassured himself that everything is going to be fine, Jack remains silent, following the rest of the conversation.

Spoiler: Ooc

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Still swamped. It's ok to move things along.

[Kaptin Keen]

The trade complete - elf bones for the map - the ghouls lope off into the night. You watch them go, a dozen tribes of a dozen ghouls each. To grow to such numbers, the ruined city must have been fertile ground for them to harvest, for a long time. But then, obviously, since the city was wiped out, thousands of past unfortunates must be have found their final rest here.

Off they go, swift and sure in the darkness, and you all retire to the magical mansion you carry, to rest for the night. Whether your dreams are plagued by slavering fangs, strong claws and sleek forms hunting in the dark - or by grinding, snapping sound of blunt teeth worrying away at ancient bones to get at the sweet, sweet marrow ... such things shall remain unknown.

A days ride from ancient, dead Zeltmar, you reach the inn where you met Oro Garne. He has long since travelled on, of course, but the inn itself is a welcome spot of safety on the road - also, it offers decent meals, good ale, and all the comforts and company otherwise not available on the road.

Clovius - perhaps surprisingly - offers to entertain, and proves to have a powerful singing voice and singular stage presence. The audience laughs and cries in turn, as he performs a couple of legends from the local history. He makes a pretty penny, and is offered food and board for free, something for which you're grateful, since the man's capacity for food and drink borders on legendary itself.

[WalkingTheShade]

After getting the words wrong more than a few times, Jon gives up and only claps his hands and his heel to the song's beat. Toby has stolen a steak from a some passed out drunkard's plate and his busy hiding beneath a cupboard to eat it.

Jon raises his beer mug, but freezes before bringing it to his lips. His eyebrows furrow in seeming concern. With his mug still hanging in mid-air, he turns to his halfling friend. "Say Bobin? These... these ain't, like, really really priestly songs, right? What you think about 'em?"

[Woggle]

Bobin, all too happy to have finished their dealings with ghouls for the time being, indulges a little to heavily in the local ale. Soon he's doing his best to sing along with Clovius. Bobin's unfamiliarity with the words doesn't dampen his enthusiasm, and while he mumbles through the verses, he belts out the choruses with ale-focused enthusiasm.

Jon's question causes Bobin a moment's pause, but he soon replies, hiccuping intermittently: "Shee, thersh' two -hic!- kinds of songs a priesht should know: the ones -hic!- that they shing in church, and the people'sh songs. Part of bein' a priesht is known' when to sing which ones, right?" Bobin fights off a bout of hiccups, then leans in closely toward Jon, a look of utter seriousness on his face. "Never, I mean -hic!- never, trust a priest who doeshn't know both, caush if'n they don't know the peoplesshes' songs, how can they know the people? And ishn't that pretty important for a priest? I shure think so!"

Bobin's intense expression fades from his face, now a little flushed, and he gives Jon a pat on the shoulder. "There'sh no harm in-n enjoying these moments, from -hic!- time to time, Jon. Otherwise you looshe sight of -of what connects you to other folk."

Bobin gives Jon a warm smile, then promptly begins to drift off to sleep in his chair.

[WalkingTheShade]

Jon nods enthusiastically to Bobin's reassurances. Whatever muddy track of thought the slow wagon of Jon's mind was on, it has just gone off it and tangled in parasitic vegetation grows on its sidelines.

Jon sees Bobin falling asleep. He rolls his eyes with an air saying "not again". He gathers the halfling in his arms and gets him into bed.

Spoiler: OOC

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Jon was on the verge of discovering that Clovius is very probably not a priest, but hey, who cares?

Ready to move on.

[iTookUrNick]

Jack enjoys the evening like everyone else, eating and drinking and clapping along; even if the songs are unknown to him, they ring familiar enough to his ears. However, he does take the time and care to sneak in Stabby, suitably concealed, so that it might enjoy the evening with them.

[Kaptin Keen]

Stabby, sneakily concealed in his neatly bundled and packaged form, seems to be ticking along with the music like everyone else. His weird golden facemask - which is atop the cubic box shape - even seems to issue a few sing-song notes as he sings along on the refrain. If it's possible to be enjoying oneself whilst maintaining a strict, motionless cubic stance on everything, then that's what Stabby appears to be doing.

In the morning, Bobin in particular has disproportionate headache - meaning it feels like it's a bigger hangover than one halfling should be able to contain. None the less, the sun shines warm and inviting, and the open roads await. It's a couple of days across the western moorlands before you'll finally be back in Silverbrook.

Spoiler: OOC

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Is it strictly required for a priest to have class cleric levels? Of course, one might argue that - at least it might be required to be properly ordained. But who's to say he isn't? I mean ... he might be? Lots of people change profession at some point. Right? Right!

[WalkingTheShade]

It doesn't take much time on the road before Jon starts fidgeting in his seat. The fidgeting of a grown man in field plate is not something inconspicious.

"So, huh," Jon asks his companions, "we still far? How long b'fore we arrive in Silverbrook?"

[Woggle]

Bobin reclines as comfortably as he can near the rear of the wagon. He alternates between watching the countryside slowly move by, and dozing off the effects of a little too much drink the night before.

"Oh, it shouldn't be more than two or three days now, as long as the weather holds up. I know, I'm looking forward to being back as well." Bobin stretches out his arms languidly, adjusting slightly. "If I were you, I'd try get as much relaxing done as possible. I know I will. I'm sure the Mayor will have plenty for us to do."

Bobin pulls his hat down to shade his eyes, mumbling "If only I could dim the Sun a little..."

[Kaptin Keen]

Ahh - the sweet powers of prophecy.

As you wake on the morning of the penultimate day out of Silverbrook, the sun has indeed dimmed. Heavy clouds fill the sky, and before you even brake camp and set off, the rain begins. Steady and insistent, it pelts you without pause. By midday, it's accompanied by thunder and lightning.

At least the roads is decent, with little enough traffic that it isn't simply reduced to mud.

Wet and miserable, you trudge on - the prospect of home, a warm meal, good ale and a soft bed bringing a smile to your faces despite the weather.

The last night, you pitch your camp in sight of Kelsen's Fist. The strange rock formation in the middle of the moor looks foreboding and ill-omened in the shifting light of the thunderstorm, yet you sleep well enough, safe inside your small fortified portable house.

A grey dawn greets you the next day. The coulds remain, but the rain is reduced to a drizzle. On the horizon, you can just spy where Silverbrook lies. And something is wrong: In a single ray of sunligth in the otherwise unbroken grey, stands an iron tower that wasn't there before.

[Woggle]

Despite the drizzle Bobin feels in hight spirits as he helps to pack up camp and begin their last day of travel. From time to time he whistles a little ditty from his childhood. His thoughts stray idly from his home village and his parents, to musings on what new oddities have crossed through from the portal in the party's absence. "Do ya think there might be any new emissaries that have come through while we were away? Maybe folk who look like owls, or crocodiles! Can you imagine?"

When Silverbrook finally appears through the slight haze of drizzle on the horizon, it takes Bobin nearly a full minute to notice something amiss. He stands bolt upright on the seat, nearly losing his footing. He rubs his eyes and exclaims, "By Yondalla's shield, do you see that!? I'm not seeing things, am I?" Bobin continues to stare at the iron finger that rises above the surrounding landscape. A worrying ache snakes up his spine, and Bobin gives a little shiver.

"Mayor Finnigal wasn't planning on building a tower while we were away, was he? I know he made mention of arranging to build a storehouse for the grain which Silverbrook is trading to the Giff, but that doesn't look like a granary to me. I think we'd best hurry home."

[WalkingTheShade]

"Do ya think there might be any new emissaries that have come through while we were away? Maybe folk who look like owls, or crocodiles! Can you imagine?"

"Huh... Or people lookin' like owlbears?" Jon's brow creases in thought. "Also, what's a cork-a-dire? You need a very big bottle for those?"

---

"Mayor Finnigal wasn't planning on building a tower while we were away, was he? I know he made mention of arranging to build a storehouse for the grain which Silverbrook is trading to the Giff, but that doesn't look like a granary to me. I think we'd best hurry home."

"Maybe it's a new church or somethin'?" Jon doesn't seem so concerned about the new structure. "It looks... big? Let's go see it from nearer, an' m'be someone tells us what's it is."

[Woggle]

"Huh... Or people lookin' like owlbears?" Jon's brow creases in thought. "Also, what's a cork-a-dire? You need a very big bottle for those?"

"They're those... small dragon things that live in rivers and have got snouts full of teeth. I saw a picture of one in a book once. They float in the water with only their noses poking out, I think."

---

"Maybe it's a new church or somethin'?" Jon doesn't seem so concerned about the new structure. "It looks... big? Let's go see it from nearer, an' m'be someone tells us what's it is."

"Well, let's hope." Bobin doesn't sound convinced.

[WalkingTheShade]

"They're those... small dragon things that live in rivers and have got snouts full of teeth. I saw a picture of one in a book once. They float in the water with only their noses poking out, I think."

"Like a... dragon-turtle?" Jon scratches his chin. "Oh, you mean a dragon-turtle!"

Spoiler: OOC

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This could get long, so very long.

---

"Well, let's hope." Bobin doesn't sound convinced.

"A'ight! Let's go!" Jon exclaims enthusiastically, entirely oblivious to Bobin's concern.

"Toby, look, we nearly home! Simian, come on, look at th'new tower! Hey, Clovius? I can see th'old church from 'ere!" Jon points out the bell tower of the town church. "And see, I think that's a new church over yonder?" Jon points out the large iron tower.

[Kaptin Keen]

Clovius looks at the tower, a dubius expression on his face. To me, that looks more like a mage tower. But ... who am I to say?

As you travel on, discussion of dragon turtles and owlbears flowing back and forth, the picture becomes clearer as you get closer. There is a shimmering around the tower, and an area around it looks scorched, black and barren.

As you watch, you find out why. With a sudden howling, a group of weird - some would say frightful - quadruped charge out of the nearest (un-scorched) field, and bound towards the tower at great speed. Almost immediately, a fireball archs out, striking them - but as the smoke clears, the beasts charge on, seemingly unscathed.

Next, lightning strikes - once, twice, three times - and as your eyes recover from the sudden glare, you see the attackers lie twitcing, dead or dying.

You are still a good mile out of town.

[iTookUrNick]

"Oh, you can say it, priest. That's a mage tower for sure." says Jack, having recovered from the surprise (and the evening). To Jack, it looks quite different and somehow eerily similar 5o the one in Madripore. His hopes of having a new hight scholar in town are quickly dashed when they see the magic display. Grimly, he adds: "Let's press forward. I'm sure the mayor will have something for us."