Adrik holds his hand out of the cave, giving his companion a scratch behind their ear as he checks for rain. The sound of heavy rain had stopped, but the light patter from the sky remains. The wolf’s ears then prick up suddenly. Adrik turns and puts his hand to the hilt of his weapon, ready for anything.
Darrin gasps heavily for air as he breaches the surface of the water, his arms flailing at the sloping tunnel while he tries to gain purchase and climb out. The others are behind him, surfacing and climbing out of the murky pool. Once everyone reaches the mouth of the cave, Lorawyn and Theodore share with Adrik all that transpired within.
The party is covered in mud. Regardless, Nix and Theodore take their respective leads and urge the others to move on. As they approach the small town and the remaining few wagons that will take them south, Nix pulls Theodore aside to have a private conversation.
“Theodore. We may have to move our separate ways. My people are gathering at the Citadel. I have to be there for them. It has been an honour to travel with you. May we meet again soon, my friend.”
Theodore nods in agreement. “I understand. It was an honour travelling with you also. I too hope we meet again. May it be sooner than we both think.”
Nix turns to the others and speaks in a loud and clear voice. “Those headed to the Citadel, with me. The rest of you, I wish you the best of luck in your journey. I hope we meet again sooner rather than later.”
The journey takes more than a week, but eventually, the envoys of the Druid Order, Adrik, Lorawyn and Theodore, arrive at Bersault-on-the-Sea. The rumours of a Goblin raid on the town of Somergleam not long ago turned out to be true, but thankfully the kingdom held and fought off the invaders. Other tales, those of a large Gnome wagon train heading West from Garric Hollow, bring some comfort to the party as they realise this will have been the reinforcements Nix requested. At least they have backup. Adrik and Lorawyn see the Salty Bandit tavern where their adventures with Nix and Darrin started as they ride by Bersault-on-the-Hill.
The small fishing village seems quiet and sullen, almost in mourning. Small boats can be seen off the coast, nets being cast and lines being reeled. While there are few buildings here, the village is technically part of the small collection of hamlets around Somergleam that all make up Bersault. Stopping off in the Salty Bandit, they met with a burly man called Arth. He shared his tale with the Druids, revealing that he was on his way further North to Somergleam in order to get help for a young girl in his charge. The young girl, named Tel, was apparently involved with some supernatural events that have been occurring for the last few months in the fishing village. Arth makes mention of two others that had taken interest in the events of the last few months, and that if the Druids wanted to help they might speak with them. He advised they speak to Moira, the village wise-woman.
Eri goes and helps Moira look for cups, organising things as she goes by picking up occasional rags and folding them, neatening up some stacks of parchment and so forth. “Things must have been hard since he passed. How are you holding up, Moira?”
Moira looks at the ceiling for a moment, and it’s unclear whether she’s thinking or noticing a spider. “I think I’ll be okay, dear. I’m a little shaken, but nothing a pot of tea won’t fix.”
Ouriana walks over to a window and peeks outside, keeping an eye out for any type of danger. “Moira, where in the village would we find a Cleric?”
As she places the filled pot over the lit fire pit, Moira begins to hum a little between every few words. “A Cleric? I don’t think you’ll find anything of the sort outside of Somergleam. There’s a priest in town, though. He ministers the rites and rituals around here. I also know a thing or two about the herbs around abouts. Why? you got an itch?” She then looks over to another pile of stuff and her face softens from its lighter demeanour somewhat. “So he’s really real… You know, I thought I was going batty. I wonder… Are… Are you going to stay? Can you stay?” She waits for a moment, and then smiles sadly and returns her attention to the pot.
She then darts her head up and marches towards the door. “How many? We can’t feed the whole village, now!” Moira opens the door and shouts. “NO! I have a small house and two visitors. You’ll have to wait outside!” Moira then slams the door. The old fisherwoman that escorted Adrik, Lorawyn and Theodore from the tackle shop to Moira’s house stands dumbfounded.
“I’m sorry… you’re on your own now. That’s her house at any rate. I think the strangers are with her.” She turns to return to her work. “Be careful around them, mind. They said they got tangled with Demons last night. I wouldn’t stick around, I were you.” She continues talking despite now being too far away to keep a conversation going.
The Druid Order party now stands outside the ramshackle house of Moira after having the door slammed in their face before they were even introduced, the cool ocean breeze bringing with it a soft saltiness. Erimeyoma and Ouriana are inside, waiting for the pot to boil.
What do you do?
Has Adrik named the wolf? If he has, I’ve forgotten it, sorry.
Erimeyoma +10XP (155 Total XP)
Ouriana +10XP (165 Total XP)
Adrik +15XP (875 Total XP)
Lorawyn +15XP (980 Total XP)
Theodore +15XP (525 Total XP)