Passing Through the Farmlands

 As the local patrons filtered out for the night, the common area was divided up among the paying overnight guests. Trystan pulled out the map the druids had given him and discussed with several fellow travelers which route would be best to the Blessed Springs: north or south of the Coldbleak Mountains. “To the south is that nasty-smelling Lake of the Sea Dragon,” one fellow said with a wave of his hand, indicating how rancid the odor tended to be. “Cutting through the farmlands to the north is better on your sense of smell, but can be dangerous. I hear the farmers there are always complaining about wolves,” the innkeeper pointed out. The young wayfarer leaned back in his seat to see how Ysolt was faring. She had picked a cozy corner near the fireplace, and had spent the time preparing their bedrolls. As a priestess of Maka, she was likely used to the smell of manure. The farmers would also offer them a night's shelter in exchange for a blessing on their harvests. “We’ll try our luck with the northeastern route,” Trystan decided before thanking the others for their advice.

ROLL 1 DIE.

Score: 4 – Nothing Happens.

The innkeeper’s daughter parceled out the trail rations among the departing guests, which included dried berries and fruits, jerky, nuts, and coffin pies. Wine and waterskins were also filled. The traveling priestess of Maka expressed her gratitude with a simple blessing of protection against diseases to the young woman and her family. Trystan ushered Ysolt out of Caran Baru, making sure to avoid the market and especially the slave market, so that she would not get distracted away from the goal of reaching the Blessed Springs. He didn’t once consider asking her why the slave market might upset her. He suspected that he had been on a slave ship before winding up on the Isle of Druids; thusly, he lucked out of experiencing what she might have endured before their paths crossed. During the days spent traveling on foot through the wild country eastward, Trystan warned that they needed to be on the lookout for wolves. The howls of such beasts were heard off in the distance throughout the nights as they camped, but they were thankfully not hindered by them.

One day, they walked parallel to a military highway that seemed congested with wagons and patrols. Though they kept their distance, Ysolt wondered aloud, “Is road not safer with patrols?” They were farther north of the mountains to avoid the uneven, rocky terrain of the foothills. However, Trystan had steered them away from the road for a reason. “It’s heading northward, to the forts that border the Eastern Marches,” he explained, pulling out the map so the young priestess had a visual understanding of where he meant. “The Blessed Springs are much further south, and traveling by the road would add far too many days than we have supplies for,” he said as he pointed out the highway routes. “Besides, we’ll have an easier time supplementing our supplies the further we are from the roads.” She could not deny that he made several sound points and nodded in agreement with each of his assessments.

ROLL 1 DIE.

Score: 6 – Find some Leather Armor ( Defense +1 )

The wild terrain gave way to evenly plowed dirt, on which vegetable plants grew, giving praise to the daylight that nourished them from above. Homesteads dotted the land, and the traveling duo took care not to tread on any vegetation while they passed through. They carefully plotted their path, helping the farmers and families in exchange for a night of shelter. Ysolt’s prayers devoted to Maka were believed to dissuade infestations of unwanted pests, while Trystan proved to be strong and capable of any manual labor that had been asked of him.

While much of the harvest fed and supported the military presence at the eastern forts and northern citadel, the farmers were happy to give the young travelers fresh vegetables and fruit to supplement their rations. A widow who had been managing her late husband’s farm completely on her own gifted them a leather jerkin she had no use for. She had meant to give it to her husband on their anniversary, but he had passed from a sudden illness before she had the chance to. Ysolt graciously prayed that Maka would watch and protect the kind woman.

Name: Trystan Afon
Profession: Wayfarer
God: -none-
Rank: 1
Defense: 7
Charisma: 2
Combat: 5
Magic: 2
Sanctity: 3
Scouting: 6
Thievery: 4
Stamina: Max – 9/Current - 9
Money: 4 Shards
Possessions – Max 12: Sword, Leather Jerkin ( Defense +1 ), Bow/Quiver of Arrows, Map, Oak Staff, Vial of Yellow Powder, Leather Armor ( Defense +1 ),
Resurrection Arrangements: -none-
Titles: Outcast
Blessings: -none-
Description: Dark, shaggy hair, vibrant green eyes, ruddy, caramel-hued and freckled skin, over five and a half feet tall. His facial hair is in a state of perpetual stubble. Generally wears muted earth tones, made of worn leather and comfortable fabrics. Is proficient with a bow, handy with a sword, and fairly skilled at hunting, tracking, and general survival in the wilderness. The last thing he recalls before waking up on the shores of the Isle of Druids is encountering a band of brigands while tracking a boar. His likely capture, enslavement, and becoming cargo on a ship isn’t as clear in his memory.