"You choose to draw a weapon in here, you'll have me to contend with," responds the watch captain, "draw an iron weapon and you'll have both me and the fae folk after you. And I don't police their actions. Let's just say we'd prefer our visitors had a peaceful and uncomplicated time in our city."
Her expression darkens somewhat as Artaith presses the matter "I'm watching you, dwarf. Keep out of trouble. And by the gods don't come grumbling to me if the pixies turn all your mead to mudwater. I'll know you brought it on yourself."
...................
Having collected your pay and fare welling the other members of Palejohn's caravan you hit the markets to prepare yourselves for the next leg of your journey. You have no problem sourcing travelers rations for the road, and Riaghan purchases a sturdily crafted wind- and water-proof lantern from an equipment store.
Elethielle keeps alert her eyes open for signs of the local fey. Every so often she spies tell-tale flickerings of movement at the corner of her vision, and occasionally sees two or three slight elfin sprites with gossamer wings hiding behind chimneys or sitting on rooftops and windowsills. The wee fey seem content enough in their own activities and as neither yourselves nor any others bother them you don't run afoul of any strange retributions for perceived slights.
In fact the small city seems to operate around and alongside the fey but not integrate at all, both separate groups of inhabitants deliberately ignoring the other in a very strange sort of communal willful denial (except perhaps the mysterious druids atop their spire who you gather act as go-betweens with the fey court). The markets are remarkably relaxed with only a few guards present and merchants seemingly little concerned by thievery with many wares on open display.
Once your provisioning is completed you find yourselves a meal at a travelers tavern named the Hart's Head and rooms at the serviceable Noble Hound. The timing proves fortunate as a thunderstorm hits that eve with high winds and torrential rain lashing against the windowpanes as you slumber. You are thankful to not be caught out in this weather, and equally thankful the storm eases by morning leaving you free to travel on.
.............
Gathering yourselves and your travelling gear you set off once more along the King's Road highway. Three day's walk, foraging as you go, broken only by occasional encounters with mounted guard patrols, brings you to a signposted intersection where the Watershed Road branches north towards Old Lawson Town and beyond, Grimmsgate.
Turning onto this northbound road you quickly find the 'road' is really no more than a muddy trail that constantly fords small streams as it soon plunges into heavily forested wilderness. With no inns or homesteads on this trail you camp under the stars, again thankful that the rains hold and that all you have to deal with from nature is muddy boots from the frequent fords.
You pass several old campsites no doubt used by the infrequent travelers along this trail, and find them useful to assist as you prepare each evening. The fauna of the forests seems relatively benign, the wild animals more afraid and wary of a group of humanoid travelers that you are of them. In fact the worst that you come across is on several nights having to drive off small flocks (swarms?) of disgusting mosquito-like bat-winged stirges attracted to your warm bodies. This is more a hindrance than a real danger, and while you lose a few hours sleep staying vigilant you soon pass through the area they seem to inhabit.
As you travel further north the great boles of ancient trees give the strange impression that the relative safety of the trail is maintained only at their sufferance, that this little strip of road could be blotted out in moments, if the trees ever so chose — crushed between their trunks to vanish forever, as if the trail and all who travel upon it had never been.
After two weeks of travel through the old growth forests you eventually come to the village of Old Lawson Town, jarringly normal and civilized after so many days in the wilderness. Here you are able to re-provision, hearing from the superstitious folk that Grimmsgate lies only three days hence. Despite the locals constant fretting over every perceived omen imaginable, you find the place welcoming enough and certainly note the well-established brewing industry that it supports, the delicious Black Wizard Stout being relatively notable and packing quite a kick.
The locals seem happy enough to talk about nearby Grimmsgate, "Seems like things have been going downhill for years, over there in Grimmsgate. There is an old temple out there somewhere nearby. It’s called the Elder Temple because it was before they had a temple in the village. Something bad happened there a long time ago.”
None of this is new news to Philemon of course, who extends the conversation a little with his own views "Seems like we lost a fur trapper or a farmer every month for a while, and now there aren’t hardly enough people to keep things going. I mean, no one would tell me anything but we've gotta get there to help somehow!”
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Please deduct 2gp each for two night's accommodation & purchased food (5sp lodging, 3 sp meal, 2 sp drinks - 1 night in Mirquinoc, 1 in Old Lawson Town).
Total rations used = 17 days each, less any foraging done along the way.
Much as I would normally like to run some encounters 'on the road', for the sake of all our sanity I do want to get you to your destination so am skipping through these for now as scene-setting only.
"I mean, no one would tell me anything but we gotta get there to help somehow!” - working on the basis that Philemon has (less than) zero social skills and so hasn't been entrusted with any special knowledge by any other inhabitants of Grimmsgate.
Next stop - Grimmsgate!
Re: Lost Lands: Grimmsgate IC
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