A Visit to Fulscarp and Underhall

An accounting from Arian.

Much had been accomplished at the Ironwolf Keep in the last ten day. A new well had been dug and the old one cleaned out. Grimsby, the stonemason they had hired in Ravensburg, had made much progress on the new entry to the Keep, even putting in a murder hole. Thibault’s servants had been busy cleaning and many of the rooms were now habitable. Frank and his boys were busy patrolling and training.

Arian and Wisteria quickly put in a small garden plot so that the plants and herbs they had brought with them from The Grove would not wither and die. With a bit of searching, Arian also located the remains of an old orchard full of apple and pear trees – very promising for future cider or perry concerns! She brought back as many of the late fall fruit as she could carry.

Trystan the bard had accompanied them back, having made fast friends with Gorlock. He regaled them nightly with cheery songs of conquest. Elia in particular seemed quite taken with him, much to Sirondar’s chagrin.

One day, while seated near the fire, Sirondar cleared his throat, "You must find this rustic fort very boring after the big city, master Trystan."

“Well, Sir Sirondar, there is a certain country charm, is there not?” The bard winked playfully; it wasn’t clear whom his charm was directed to.

"Yes, personally I prefer the clean air of the wilderness..."

“The fresh air...the green fields....the murderous bandits........” Trystan laughed and clapped the knight upon the back. “And I believe there's a wine cellar here as well? We must spend an afternoon exploring that!”

"Oh yes!” said Elia. “Let me show you the cellar..."

"I'd rather go to find adventure, me!" said Greeba.

“I find it's always better to strike out on adventures at least slightly inebriated, dear Greeba!” said Trystan.

Sirondar grudgingly accompanied Trystan, Elia and Gorlock down to the cellar, though all were a bit disappointed at the lack of wine. There was a little talk of future plans, grandiose perhaps given the current state of their pocketbooks.

Thibault was so well pleased with Grimsby’s work that he invited the stonemason to stay on at the Fort.

"No thank you sir, I have a business back in Ravensburg. Steward Dahnim did give me a little extra gold to make sure your fort's in good repair though, so I'll be here a few more weeks if it please ye. The roof on the Queen's Tor is in a shocking state..."

That made them all think deeply upon exactly how much was needed to get the Fort to where it needed to be.

“We need an adventure,” said Gorlock. “We can fill this cellar with wine later.”

"Yes, we need to find some monies and soon,” said Thibault. “Or we might have some issues with paying all these good people"

"We could try to talk Lady Aryn into giving us the reward for sorting the” – Arian lowered her voice so that Frank could not hear – “bandit problem.”

“Or Underhall?” piped up Greeba. She had been anxious to return there after hearing about it from Braltak.

“Underhall would certainly have treasure worth the looting...” said Trystan, which made Sirondar perk up considerably.

“Yes, Arian, I could try my newfound self-confidence and persuade Lady Aryn. We have nothing to lose after all and 200 gold is nothing to sneeze at. And then on to Underhall!"

Eamon stayed behind to supervise while the rest went on to Fulscarp. It was just a ten mile journey and a mostly pleasant one until they reached the area surrounding the Shattered Tower, rumored to be home to Aretha the hag. The gnarled trees on each side of the trail had an eldritch and sinister air.

"Arian, can you sense anything here?" asked Greeba.

Arian took a deep breath and a good look around. There was definitely a fey influence about the place, and not a nice one. It was doubtless due to the hag’s influence. “I do not like the look of these trees,” she said. “They look like they are in pain.”

They continued on, wondering if the hag would appear, but she did not. Perhaps another day, thought Arian. The hag was like poison to the wood.

That reminded her. "Sir Thibault and Gorlock -- perhaps while we are in Fulscarp you could also see if there are any likely candidates for a druid initiate? I would like one with us at the fort, but I fear I am not persuasive enough to attract anyone..." It would be good to have someone who could help with the garden, now that they had one.

“I'll keep an eye open. Give me a nudge if you see one!” said Thibault.

They rode on into Fulscarp without any other interruptions. The local stablemaster Birk offered to look after their horses. "We'll take good care of those fine steeds, lords and ladies! Just two silver each for the day!"

Gorlock paid up and asked him to point the way to Lady Aryn.

"Aye, past those children playing in a circle, you see that big manor house? In there."

Arian took a look around and did see one likely looking candidate. A young woman was in the field by the manor house, looking after a toddler. She wore flowers in her hair so naturally that they looked a part of her. She pointed out the woman to Thibault and Gorlock. "Perhaps we can talk to her later?”

Greeba, for her part, had taken a good look too. No barbarians in sight and definitely no half-orcs either. She sighed.

They went directly to the manor house and knocked on the door, Gorlock and Thibault in the lead. Arian stayed well to the back, determined not to say a word out of place since her experience talking with Jaroo. It was best she keep her mouth shut.

A maid opened the door and peeked her head out. “Hello sirs? Ladies?”

Thibault inclined his head grandly. “Good day, my lady, we request an audience with Lady Aryn."

At the same time, Gorlock said, “Hello my dear, we are here to give the lady great news about the bandit situation.” He gave her a wink that caused her to blush.

"Oh! Er, you better come in. This way..."

She led them into the house. The manor hall was spacious but quite dark. At the far end they saw a woman of 60 or so talking with two men, one about 40 who could be her son, the other a greybearded man at arms.

"Some folks here about the bandits, Lady Aryn."

"Oh? Thank you, Martha."

Arian wasn’t sure what it was about the man, but seeing him gave her a strange sense of déjà vu. Perhaps it was the same for him, as he gave her a quizzical look when he saw her. Certainly she had not met him before.

Thibault approached, but stopped before getting too close to the lady. "Good day, Lady Aryn," he said, bowing.

"Welcome, friends. How may I help you?" Her tone was cool, but welcoming.

Trystan waltzed in and headed into a corner. He pulled out his lute and began strumming, almost like accompaniment to Thibault’s story. He knew next to nothing about Lady Aryn or her family, but soon he was singing a song extolling her virtues as if he were an expert on her.

"We have come to bring definitive news about the twelve bandits that were attacking the travellers on the bridge nearby," said Thibault.

Lady Aryn blushed. "Never have I heard such wonderful music! You are no common minstrel!" She peered at Trystan. “You must be…Joriun Whitefeather!”

Trystan swallowed the compliment he’d been about to give the lady for her discerning eye.

“We are honoured!” Lady Aryn continued, beaming.

“Why, yes my lady, we've brought no one but the best to honour you,” said Gorlock, with an apologetic look at Trystan.

Aryn beamed. "What a wonderful surprise! You must all stay for dinner!"

“…to celebrate the end of the bandit scourge!” Gorlock finished with a flourish.

"Yes - about the bandits?" said Jorah, her son. “They have not been seen on the road recently.”

“We have captured them and put them to work,” said Gorlock.

“…to work?” said Lady Aryn.

"You won't have to worry about them anymore. We can guarantee it. And you and your people will not incur a loss of revenue anymore,” smoothly continued Thibault.

“Repairing the keep that was in ruins. Hard labour. Back breaking work,” said Gorlock, smiling broadly.

"I see. Well, er, well done then! Vendle, fetch the reward money."

"Which keep would that be?" asked Jorah, who did not appear quite as convinced as his mother.

“Ironwolf Keep, my good Sir. First we had to rid it of some terrible orcs.”

"Oh! I see! Very good. And the Steward of Ravenshire has granted this?"

“Yes, indeed,” said Thibault.

"I see! So, we are to be neighbours!" She smiled, perhaps at Gorlock or maybe at Thibault. It was hard to tell in the dimness of the hall.

Her man returned with a pouch heavy with gold and Lady Aryn handed it over the Thibault. "I hope this contributes to your repairs. It will be so good to have new neighbours!"

“We will put this to good work, accelerating our efforts and bringing benefit to the entire region,” said Gorlock, eyes shining.

“I am sure we will enjoy many seasons as neighbours," said Lady Aryn.

Arian bowed, then noticed no one else had done so and straightened herself back up hastily. Thank goodness she had not said anything.

Lady Aryn took them around the village to give them a tour.

“What a lovely village,” said Gorlock, still laying on the charm.

"Yes, isn't it?! We do have our troubles of course... there are rumours of strange goings on at Whitestone Cave to the north...."

"Do you ever get visited by other barbarians?" asked Greeba.

"Barbarians? You mean, Narish folk? I don't think so."

Greeba settled back, disappointment showing on her face. The conversation turned to Sir Jorah’s recent harrowing exploits and the goings on in the region in general. There was much that had happened recently, both good and bad.

Arian spied the woman she had seen earlier and grabbed Xarius, who’s tongue was nearly as glib as that of Thibault and Gorlock, and dragged him over. After a bit of careful digging with the girl, whose name was Lyssa, and her stout mother, Arian was able to convince the woman to join them at the Fort as an apprentice. It took a bit of work, as apparently another man had recently come back claiming to be an elven prince looking to fill out his harem, but it was clear that Arian had no such designs upon her person.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Lady Aryn over dinner, they stayed the night comfortably at the manor house. Lyssa said her goodbyes to her family, with many promises to visit once a ten day and they were off, back to the fort.

The return journey was happily uneventful, which Arian was thankful for. It was hard to say what Lyssa was prepared for, being as new as she was to the craft and full of questions. When they were nearly there, she handed Lyssa a bit of rat jerky.

"Here, for later. I shall introduce you to Shaggy."

Lyssa took it, and eyed it doubtfully.  "Looks ...tasty."

Thibault cleared his throat as he nudged his horse up next to theirs. “"Bad start. Arian!"

Arian was confused. "Er, it might be tasty,” she said to Lyssa. “But it's for the wolf. You'll see."

“Ah, I see,” said Lyssa and Thibault relaxed.

When they arrived, Arian introduced Lyssa to everyone around. Estie Longossip, Thibault's maid, took Lyssa under her wing & helped her settle in. The rest of them immediately rode north down the crags from Ft Skulnar onto the heathland, following the trail north as it skirted the Darkwood forest.

By mid-afternoon, they had reached Underhall. They left their horses safely back and approached. This time, there was no fire with cultists gathered around. Instead, it was deathly quiet. Tiffany, bidden by Gorlock, took a quick look around, reporting back that it looked much the same as before, though perhaps smellier.

"I didn't see anyone, but it smells worse than Shaggy down there!"

Arian cocked her head. Shaggy? He simply smelled of wolf. Certainly a dungeon would smell worse than that!

Thibault concentrated his senses. He could detect a faint trace of evil from below, but it was not clear what it might be. No matter, they were up for it! He raised his weapon, which was glowing brightly, and descended into the darkness.

They saw a great dank pillared hall with a slimy pool and 3 tunnels leading out. Arian gulped at the sight of the pool. Something was definitely wrong with it. There was an unnatural slimy film on the surface.

“Let us stay well back from that water,” she said, but too late. Wisteria had already ventured towards the centre of the room to see if she could detect any enemies.

The pool suddenly came to life. Three gray oozes erupted out of the water.

“Disgusting! What abominations are these?” said Wisteria.

“Abominations indeed! What a foul stench!" said Arian.

Trystan cast sleep upon the oozes and the one in the middle thankfully stopped moving. Sirondar, ever ready, leapt forward and jabbed his sword into the ooze on the left. As soon as he touched it, his sword showed signs of corrosion.

“Dammit!” he cried.

Gorlock cast an eldritch blast upon one of the slimes. It quivered as the bolt hit it, almost like jelly.

Wisteria cast bane upon them, but only one seemed to succumb to her spell. Xarius joined in the attack, loosing magic missiles upon one of the oozes. For a second, it seemed to absorb the blasts, but then it dissolved with a splosh, falling lifelessly to the floor.

Thibault rushed forwards and attacked another ooze with his glowing sword, giving it a solid whack that made the whole thing shudder. Elia attacked the same one and it too fell. “Yes! I did it! I finally hit something!” said cried, fist pumping the air.

Greeba grunted and threw a javelin at the last ooze. It stirred, but was still up. Arian cast shillelagh on her staff and strode forward, giving the ooze a good whack. It reached out to try and attack her, but she was able to dodge.

Trystan shot his shortbow at it and, amazingly, the arrow seemed to pierce right through it and it quivered into formless goo. He took a bow and blew Elia a kiss.

 

They stopped and all took a deep breath, regretting it immediately. The smell had grown worse. Suddenly, red eyes gleamed in the darkness of the western passage...