Silent Slough

[Drathiranon]

Nay little one, as Llelanni says it would freeze. That would have been as bad as boiling. We need it warm to handle and form to place in the case. Then air dry and cooled to room temperature.

As he was speaking the mix cooled enough and with cleaned hands shapes and restores the lipstick. The remaining mix he makes into another lipstick case that he finds in his backpack.

He looks over the plants and smiles.

All looks well, short of maybe planing the adventure all the work is done this day. You all can rest if you need to

He looks to the map and studies it.

Grand! I need a massive kip! G'night with ye!
Shrinking back to her tiny size, the fairy curls up in a bowl near the fireside and covers herself with a cloth napkin.

Llelanni prepares snake bite remedies then heats another kettle of water. On the shelves of the store she takes notice of a can of brown sugar. Together with lavender, cammomile, sliery elm. and kudzu root, she creates a syrupy sweet arrowroot tea for clear breathing and a restful sleep.
She sets the brew down on a cloth, on the counter top along with a couple of fresh mugs. The dark elf plops a few small logs on the fire to keep it burning through the night.

Sir Tarvis, you don't suppose the orc ruins could be haunted?

Her ruby coloured eyes of deep red reflect a sense of concern in the lantern lights. She wraps her shoulders with one of the blankets, like a shawl, one that Bludgeon kindly set aside. Llelanni then takes a sewing kit with a special curved needle from her belt bag of holding to mend Mousie's shoes. They had been left behind in the sap from earlier in the day. The dark elven woman also pulls out a magnifying lens to prop up to observe her handiwork.
It is a very quiet night with only the gentle sound of the windy drift frostfall. The frostfall seems to have a very high pitch, a hardly noticeable tune to the average ear. It will be a cold morning.

[Bhaern Quel]

Looks up from the map when Llelanni speaks.

Lady Llelanni of course it is possible that the dead still wonder the ruins. The best place to find walking dead are places like that.

Looks at what you are doing.

You have many crafts I see. Finding salt is only possible because a temple was built, many faiths have need for salt in temple work so would build near some if possible. Of course not all temples can be near salt mines or flats. We already know there are no flats. The best we can hope is to find a mine.

[Drathiranon]

Looking up to Tarvis, Llelanni blushes then lowers her eye lids, passing a secret smile. She takes a sip from her mug.

Do you think there also might be treasures left behind as well?

Setting down the mug she continues working on the shoes. One done, the other needing only a few stitches.

Bludgeon did say it is a misty place. I should prolly make up a spell for a wind gust in case we can't find it hidden in fog.

The dark elf moves a candle closer as she finishes the last shoe stitches and sets the pair aside. From her travel pouch she takes a hollowed piece of bamboo and wad of plant fibre. She prepares a hidden fire inside to keep accessible but closed for safety.

I'm not sure about how to fend off undead. I don't remember much from my training in the Underdark.

She shudders, pulling her shawl wrapped blanket closer.

[Bhaern Quel]

Considers the question of treasure.

It is always possible there might be some collection still at the temple. Often if there is some time valuables are hidden away from hostile visitors. Of course they could be taken away if it was a planned leaving.

Looks at the map some more as she works on the shoes. Eats a sweet roll, then sips some tea. Hears your concern about mist and undead.

If mist that thick to hide it, we might need a wind, not just a wind gust. Also mist is good for hiding people and things like undead. As for dealing with undead. It depends on what kind. Some can be broken and burned with little problem, others can kill us with too much ease. We will need to hope the gods watch over us to warn us of great danger.

Pulls some cheese out of his backpack and slices it into pieces. Eats a few of them and offers you some rolls and cheese.

[Drathiranon]

Llelanni takes a long pull from her mug.
With a slight bow of her head, she takes a bit of the cheese.

We do know one thing, Bludgeon's claim of ghosts. If that is indeed the case, perhaps there might be a cursed object or unfinished business.

Llelanni finishes tucking the last of the plant fibre into the tube. Lifting the candle, she sets the plant fibres afire, and closes the tube. After nibbling on the cheese, she opens it again. She wants to make sure the fire stick stays lit.

Perhaps some kind of good will offering might help to provide assistance or protection.

The dark elf thinks of how Eilistraee has helped her escape to the lands of light.

[Bhaern Quel]

Well a cruse or a quest would be adventure for the little one. Solutions for a ghost sometimes are impossible. I rather hope there are none. There is some lore that cold iron can disrupt them and a circle of salt sometimes traps or protects from them. However I have no idea if any actually work.

Sets aside the map.

I think that is enough for this day. I will rest now. Enjoy your rest.



Pulls his bedding from his back pack and walks to a corner near the front door and lays it out, then rests on it to go to sleep.

Wake me when the sun shines full morning.

[Drathiranon]

Repeatedly, through the course of the night, Llelanni stokes the slumbering embers of the fire resting on the hearth.
It is now late. The moon has moved farther away across the sky. The household has long since fallen into a deep sleep cast by the darkness' spell.

The dark elven woman silently slips out through the back porch door, into the musty smell and tug of cold earth under her bare feet. With a sturdy garden rake she wades just off the shorline to pull up dead leaves and branches. With dried brown lotus seeds in hand, she presses her way along the deepened, murky waters edge to drop seed pods here and there, mashing them down further into the mud with the heels of her feet.

Once Llelanni has planted the entire stock, she pulls herself out of the cold swamp water to heat up a pot of water for washing, hanging it over the outdoor open fire. Llelanni sits on the mossy boulder to warm herself and wait for the mud to dry. The chirps and trills of the swamp sparrows are a welcome reprieve from the lifeless silence of night.

With time to think, the dark elf begins to ponder. What kind of offering would be acceptable for guidance and protection? She knows she is not graceful enough to dance. She can't stand the thought of purposely letting of blood or sacrifice. She is also no master of a craft.

Llelanni does have a simple wooden flute she made from a large cutting in a bamboo forest, the place where she emerged during her escape. Maybe an attempt at a song will be pleasing enough for the attention of the goddess' ear.

Placing the flute forward, her delicately curved fingers adjust to placement, the dark elven woman draws a deep breath to blow gently through the opening. The sound of the instrument is mellow, low. A very lonely sound, reminiscent of a vacant or isolated place. It sounds much like the night cries of the loon. A meloncoly tune tweeked nicely into a melody of thankfulness and anticipation of bliss.

Once the song is completed, Llelanni rubs away the dry mud from her legs and feet. With the herbal soap left behind by the water pump, the dark elven woman bathes and changes into another dark green mages' robe. She combs her long white wavey tresses into sections and braids them together with black velvet cording.

The night will soon be over. Too late for sleep. She reenters the store and takes a seat upon one of the bales of hay near the warm glow at the hearth. Her eyelids lower to close. Her breathing deepens slowly as trace takes her into a far away place of rest.

The fairy peeks out from under her napkin blanket and mumbles.

Guess it'll be up to the sharpest tool in the shed to wake up this crowd in the morn.

[Bhaern Quel]

The the night passes into morning, the sun climbs barely over the horizon. With the silence of a mouse emerges from his sleep to check on the plants and to look at the others in the room. No need to wake them, until sun is full up and starting to reheat the world should there be need to tend to the boars and the fence. Takes a strawberry out of his back pack and eats it. Considers what lays ahead if a deal has to be made with a ghost. No profit likely, the trading itself not of much value. Maybe should cut free as soon as possible. Must complete the fence and clearly have agreement that a fair deal was made with all concern. The one thing is how much does he owe for asking two to work that were not part of the bargain. They must be paid as well. Debts seem to be increasing. The fairy moving earth, the elf repairing the fairy's shoes.

Maybe the fairy is paid with the bread, but likely more is owed then some food. He clearly did not feel paid by the meal the orc prepared for him. Maybe protecting from ghost and adventure would be pay enough?

Takes another strawberry and eats it.

[Drathiranon]

The bedroom door swings open. The orc woman with an animal skin wrapped around her and furry slippers on her feet, stands in the doorway. Her green eyes bright, her shiny black hair in a headband with flowing curls, she trundles to the counter for an iron pan and a slab of bacon. On her way out to the back fire she pauses to have a look at Tarvis.

What else need, human man? We make things right before close shop, ok? Need to go hunting for winter pelts.

As she stands there, holding the slab of bacon in one hand, the iron skillet in the other, Slog peeks in the window. Seeing the other two awake he walks in the front door.

Slog make with iron, two goedendag, two maces, a halbred, and cold forge short sword.

The orcan farmer sets the weapons on the counter top along with a small sack of horse chestnuts from his overalls chest pocket.
His red eyes shyly look away from Bludgeon's gaze.

Thank you for help.

Slog's red eyes look to Tarvis. He tosses him a dusty bottle of his blackberry mead.

Fence holding good! What plans today?

Mouxsie sits up in the wooden bowl, listening to the conversations. The fairy lifts up to check on the lipstick she and Tarvis made.

Llelanni's eyes open, removing her from a dreamlike state where Mouxsie is sunning herself on one of the sunny yellow lotus blossoms expected to grow.
The dark elven woman turns around to face the group to hear more plainly what is going on.

[Bhaern Quel]

Well back to the trade.

I will take the stone, three pouches of meat and one sewing kit, the rest ( 2 long, sharp, leather handled steel machetes, the second sewing kit and 2 pouches of thick dried boar jerky) do not meet my needs at this time.


Has fairy has completed her repair for her release to me? Do you require more than what herbs already offered to complete the trade?

While waiting for Bludgeon's reply turns to Slog's entrance , gift and question. Catching the bottle, puts it away.

My friend this morning the boar must be fed, if you did not already do that. It is good the fence is holding.
I was thinking to try to find some salt this morning and if it gets warm enough to plant the weed to strengthen and build the extension of fencing. I also will be looking for some flour from your mill if possible. That is not urgent though.

Looks at Mouxsie and smiles. Perhaps your cue to present the lipstick.

[Drathiranon]

The fairy takes flight with a tube of lipstick covered in the cloth napkin in her hands.

Bludgeon, with a satisfied grunt, responds to Tarvis.
This good but what you want now if not those other things not wanted?

Mouxsie intervenes.

Don't you want to have a look at yer war paint first?

Annoyed at the fairy's interruption, the orc woman sighs and setting down the slab of bacon in the iron skilet, holds out her hand. As the fairy pulls away the napkin, the tube is revealed and drops into the orc's palm.

Bludgeon takes the tube, opens it, smells it, admires the sparkling garnet colour present in the mixture. She tries it on, looking at her reflection in the steel blade of the machete. The large green woman smiles with a glint of tears in her emerald eyes. She looks to Tarvis with joyful surprise, holding up her other hand at his mention of more herbs.

Please, take fairy! Want no more trouble!

Bludgeon looks up at the sound of the bells ringing on the front door to see Slog has come inside the shop. Her eye lashes flutter. She blushes, looking over to the pouch of chestnuts. She realizes it was the orc farmer who left the last sack of chestnuts for her.

Slog looks at Bludgeon, her curled black hair like feathers of the crows that ate the leftovers from the picnic by his field. He snaps out of his daydream.

At daybreak Slog does chores, boar fed. Will bring sack of flour for Tarvis.

Slog holds his floppy leather hat on his chest, over his heart. He slowly pries his red eyes away from admiring Bludgeon to face Tarvis.

Slog guess Tarvis plan to go to Rozdrurra then?

The orc farmer's face is troubled, riddled with deep lines, much like an old war map. His long, black hair unkempt, giving him a more careworn appearance. He seems more worried than afraid in his reply.
Friend, dont go. Haunted ruins. Evil Red Eye Clan ancestor ghost there, Tanarukk.

[Bhaern Quel]

Lady Bludgeon, I think that is all the trade I want, at least today. I will take the little one then. I do hope to find some salt for your meat.

Turns to Slog, to speak with him.

I of course want what is fair for the flour as well. We can settle that after the fencing and planting is complete.

Studies your reactions when talking about the ruins. before answering him.

So you believe there is salt there, also danger? We were speaking about ghosts and the best way to deal with them is finish something they did not. What you know might help us have the ghost disappear or let us know if it is worth the risk to go there. Knowing the name already helps us a little, can you tell us more about Tanarukk as that could help us.

[Drathiranon]

Llelanni holds her tongue, waiting to hear what Slog knows first before giving any of her own input.

The fairy drops down to the counter and turns around to listen to the orc farmer.

Bludgeon hears Slogs comment about evil Red Eye Clan ancestors and braces herself for what else he might say.

Slog sits down on a barrel and takes a minute to sum up in his mind what he should say before telling what he knows. He speaks orcish, so judging all here can understand enough of the language, it would be easy to convey the message. His hands, trembling, he clasps together as he tells what he has heard passed down orc generations.

In ages past, Red Eye Clan ruled all these hills and built a very prosperous city, Rozdrurra, that spread for miles around. This swamp was a tropical forest back then. There came giant orc in those days. Very corrupt. They ate all the food. They killed and ate other orcs and even each other. A flood came and drowned all that were left alive. The giant orcs became demons that haunt these hills. When the next generation of Red Eye Clan came back to Rozdrurra, the shamen tried to bring back the demons, to let them possess the bodies of the children to make them a stronger, more powerful generation. Only one became Tanarukk. He killed almost all the new generation of Red Eye Clan. Two brothers hid all the women far away. They make the third generation existing today.

Slog nervously clears his throat as if worried his words might actually create the reality of the story.

Tanarukk are baby orc corrupted through an evil ritual, they are doused in awful, abyssal blood magic, and possessed by demons. The mother is violently killed in this process. Very bad thing.

He weeps silent tears. The orc farmer wipes his face on his arm and continues speaking.

Tanarukk are not always smart. They have magic resistance, can move fast, and attack in only two actions at a time. They can retaliate quickly and up close. In short, it rushes forward into battle, viciously biting or attacking its opponent with an arched sweep of its weapon, it can do this even outside of its turn, until it’s time to move on to the next victim.

Sweat pours from Slog's face. He pulls a bandana from his chest pocket to wipe his face.

[Bhaern Quel]

Interesting, however not ghost described, unless the demon blood orcs did turn into ghost over the years. Answers Skog

Demon spawn indeed is a great danger, though they do not live forever. If they died and still linger as ghost I do not see any way to give them peace, Banishment maybe can work. Blessing with holy water every thing also might at least help. It though strikes me as a very dangerous task to face .

Friend Slog, I share your concern of danger.

Looks to the others to see what they might offer. It is not good to have a danger near , but a danger that might not make sense to fight at this time with the people her. Considers what help he might ask for. of his friends made over the years.

[Drathiranon]

The dark elven woman is at first alarmed. She tries to quickly hide the emotions she feels reflecting in her stare. Any wrong move made could cause definite future consequences for the group.

So where would it need to be sent when banished, if it's even possible?

Listening to Slog's story, clearly shows he is suffering from some past trauma, perhaps from his days with the hoarde, Mouxsie assumes. But it doesn't sit right with the little fairy. She never once sensed anything else chaotic in nature while traveling in these surroundings.

Aye, we'd be needin' a cleric or a paladin if what ya say is true, Slog. Have ya seen this ting before?

Bludgeon ties her hair back into a ponytail and grabs the cold forged iron sword Slog made.

Bludgeon must redeem clan name. Maybe that will end evil here for good! No more hiding!