RAVENLOFT: Down the Dark Road

[ewancummins]

Having no special love for his dagger, Raen happily complies with it being locked away.
After he wolfs down his food and had a bath, he makes a pass around the Fort fighting off his fatigue and tries to keep an eye on Kat realizing the ratio between men and women in this place.
He tries to place the construction techniques or perhaps the age of the fort in case it helps placing the technology level or culture of the group better. He checks the outbuildings and tries to calculate how many people the fort holds and how many it could potentially hold.

One of the soldiers, a skinny youth who looks as if he's trying to grow a mustache and not quite succeeding, tags along with Raen.
''I'm Dorn. I'll show you about, eh? Some spots won't be safe. Weapons practice, stuff like that.''

[RocEter]

The outlander turns over his great sword, shield and armor to the men to be stowed away. He allows them to search his bag to see that are no additional weapons in it and that indeed only contains traveling supplies, and the like. He declines the change of clothes but thanks the sailors for the offer.

After the bath, he change into a new set of clothing and a pair of dry boots. He passes on the food, and instead spends his time reading a well worn book he pulls out his pack until they meet with Provost.

[ewancummins]

Those paying close attention notice two different designs of badges on jacks and tabards, one sort with blue backing and another with dun. Not everyone wears a badge or insignia.
Men wear clothes of mostly plain and durable sort and aren't fitted out in identical livery like some of the household troops of lords the lands along the Musarde.

[alhoon]

One of the soldiers, a skinny youth who looks as if he's trying to grow a mustache and not quite succeeding, tags along with Raen.
''I'm Dorn. I'll show you about, eh? Some spots won't be safe. Weapons practice, stuff like that.''

"Dorn, you say? I am very glad for your efforts lad! Please do. It's not like walking around will tell me as much about the place as someone that lives here.
A few questions I think you could answer would be about who owns this land, what is the name of this fort and the area it protects and whether there are settlements nearby. You see, I have never been in this place or close to it and I am very interested in the local traditions, folklore, culture and all. Just give me a moment... I think others would be interested in a tour too."

Raen motions Dorn to wait for a bit and informs his companions he will "take a guided tour".

[Adam]

Bennedict hands over his gear, though he fusses that they take extra care of his crossbow, as it is expertly tuned. If they ask for his cane, however, he might initially balk, but eventually acquiesce.

He'll take care to try and bath and groom to restore the level of civility to which he is used, and will then wait to speak with the provost.

[ewancummins]

RAEN goes on his tour with Dorn.
The young fellow smiles a lot, and often gives vague answers to Raen’s questions or changes the subject, or suggests the Provost is the man to ask about things. He does say the fort belongs to the ‘the Protectorate.’
The ‘guided tour’ turns out to be both slow and restrictive. Dorn leads Raen into a mess hall for supper with about a dozen off-duty men and later into a courtyard where two grooms are exercising a horse. Then to the mess hall again for a game of cards, a dice game, and a pitcher of beer with a mixed group of soldiers and naval infantrymen (Raen has at least caught that much—the blue backing is naval and the dun seems to be a militia or land-based army). At no time does Dorn let Raen out of his sight. The lad says that some areas are off-limits to guests but does not elaborate about where or why even if questioned directly.
But Raen does pick up a few things from the chatter among the men eating supper, and crosstalk during the games at the mess hall table.
The land they are in is apparently the border of a vast swamp. Monsters dwell in the swamp. Men live in the towns and countryside outside the wetlands. The fort watches and guards against incursions of monsters, such as trolls and man-lizards, that may threaten a major road very near, just to the south.
Someone mentions ‘the Governor’ in passing but nobody talks about government or politics to Raen, and if questioned directly they all look uncomfortable a moment and then start talking about other things, like women or horses.

...

THE OTHERS

Get more rest than Raen, and several of them may indeed doze off peacefully in the borrowed bunks, sleeping as long as an hour. It helps, after the day’s hard, soggy march.
...

LATER
WHOLE PARTY (excepting anyone who refused to enter the fort)
WHEN the time comes, the sun has set but it’s not yet full dark over the inner bailey of the fort. A squad of mail clad men gather the party members and escort them all across the open square to a stout, slate roofed cabin set in the northeast corner.

Within, they group is met in a reinforced doorway by a tall, tan man with graying, close-cropped hair, and a clean-shaven, long face. He wears a silver raven pin on his brown tunic, and a poniard hangs at his belt.
“I’m the Provost. Come in, sit down. We don’t bother much with fancy ceremony here.”

The Provost’s office is simple but tastefully furnished in dark-stained wooden furniture: four canvas-topped stools for guests, a large desk with a chair behind it, a side battle. A shelf behind the desk holds a dozen or so bound volumes and several map cases or scroll tubes.The cabin is crowded with the whole party standing or sitting in one end of it.

The oil lamp hanging from the right rear corner of the whitewashed ceiling swings just a little, so that shadows flutter on the walls as the party enters.
The Provost settles into his chair behind the desk. He does not dismiss the party’s armed escort, which remains just outside the cabin, with two men at the window on the side wall, one looking in.
“I have received the report of my officer whom you aided. Capital work. Trolls are nasty creatures. I know what you told him, but why don’t you start over with me, and we’ll see if I can be of any help to you.”

[kintire]

Kat curtseys politely, but makes no sign of doing the talking. She seem relaxed and pleasant but those who know her well, mostly Raen, will be aware that she is acting as she does when uncertain of the situation, and is keeping all options open.

[Adam]

Bennedict steps forward, bowing. "I am Herr Bennedict Gehrman, an investigator from the port city of Pont au Museau, and these are my associates." He reaches into his coat and pulls out one of his business cards. He is pleased to see that it is only slightly damp and ruined.

"We were conducting a mission for the leadership in the city, when an arcane mishap resulted in our being deposited..." he trails off and gestures out the window, "...here. Wherever here is. We wandered a bit before encountering your men, and were pleased to render what assistance we could to them. They offered to escort us here, where we hope to get our bearings and figure out how best to make our way home."

[alhoon]

Raen isn't too surprised a military fort isn't too welcoming to random foreigners that stepped in from the "wrong" direction where monsters and nasties come from. He doesn't ask about politics and tries to put Dorn at ease, explaining to the soldier that he understands strangers are to be watched and compliments them for their discipline.
At the Provost's office he looks around the walls for any maps of the area they are in.

[ewancummins]

Bennedict steps forward, bowing. "I am Herr Bennedict Gehrman, an investigator from the port city of Pont au Museau, and these are my associates." He reaches into his coat and pulls out one of his business cards. He is pleased to see that it is only slightly damp and ruined.

"We were conducting a mission for the leadership in the city, when an arcane mishap resulted in our being deposited..." he trails off and gestures out the window, "...here. Wherever here is. We wandered a bit before encountering your men, and were pleased to render what assistance we could to them. They offered to escort us here, where we hope to get our bearings and figure out how best to make our way home."

The Provost examines the card a moment before depositing it in a desk drawer.

"Hmmmm...That city does not sound familiar. But you say a magical mishap occurred? Tripped across an ancient portal or ran afoul of an evil wizard, something like that?"
The Provost nods.
"I've read credible accounts of such things occurring. And you do appear to be foreigners. All right. I don’t know how you can get home, or even where your home is. But I can send you to the Governor. She was an adventurer herself before she took office, and may prove sympathetic to your plight. Certainly, she has resources I lack. If you'd like to pursue that course, I'll write a pass for your party and send you along with that young fellow, Dorn, as a guide. I can spare him for a tenday, maybe a bit longer. Dorn can explain the basic things you'll need to know while travelling in the Protectorate. Does this seem good to you?”

[ewancummins]

Raen isn't too surprised a military fort isn't too welcoming to random foreigners that stepped in from the "wrong" direction where monsters and nasties come from. He doesn't ask about politics and tries to put Dorn at ease, explaining to the soldier that he understands strangers are to be watched and compliments them for their discipline.
At the Provost's office he looks around the walls for any maps of the area they are in.

Raen sees no maps on display, but he does notice something above and behind the Provost's desk: a nail on the white-washed wall with a light, dust-free rectangle under it suggests the recent removal of a painting, map, or something else framed and flat.


''You are looking for a map?"

The Provost locks his eyes on Raen.
"I put some things away. Security. But let me, see, something simple."

He reaches into his desk and fishes around a moment, creating a ruffle of papery noise.

"Here."

He lays a map--simple indeed-- on the desk.




"This one's unfinished and there's certainly nothing marked on it that I shouldn't show off."


https://i.pinimg.com/originals/69/89/d0 ... 436656.jpg

[Adam]

Bennedict smiles, grateful. "We're happy to receive the assistance. If you wouldn't mind, I am not even certain in which country we've arrived. Is this Souragne?"

[ewancummins]

“ I've never heard of any of the places you mentioned and I do have a solid notion of the geography of this part of the world.
You’re in the Sembian Protectorate now. You appeared in the southern extents of the Vast Swamp—had you gone the wrong way, not encountered my men under attack by that troll, you might have slogged into the trackless depths of the mire.”

He grunts.
“You said Pontamuzzyr is a port, yes? River or sea? ”
Hearing the reply, the Provost goes to his shelf and takes a couple of minutes carefully selecting a handful of maps from the tubes.

But after the officer spreads out on his desk the paper charts, neither Benn nor anyone else in his party recognizes any of the place names printed thereon. Unfamiliar coastlines snake over the yellow paper.
The scale on the largest of maps suggests everything from Darkon's northern fringe of foggy wilderness to the extreme south beyond Kartakass would fit on this strange continent of 'Faerun' many times over!
The Provost asks the group about the proximity of their home city to places they don't know: the Inner Sea, the Dragonmere, the Dalelands...

Perhaps catching a hint of frustration and confusion growing among some of his guests, the Provost shuffles the maps into a neat pile and slides that to the left end of his desktop.
“It seems you’ve been flung quite a long way from home.”

[Wolfglide of the Fraternity]

Brow furrowed, Klokulf replies, "I had suspected based on the nature of our . . . incident . . . that we might have left our world, and this would appear to support such a conclusion."

He looks around. "I might have expected to end up in the Hell of Slaves, but this doesn't seem like that, nor any place from the established cosmology of my faith. Do you have any theological texts I might be able to peruse?"

[ewancummins]

Brow furrowed, Klokulf replies, "I had suspected based on the nature of our . . . incident . . . that we might have left our world, and this would appear to support such a conclusion."

He looks around. "I might have expected to end up in the Hell of Slaves, but this doesn't seem like that, nor any place from the established cosmology of my faith. Do you have any theological texts I might be able to peruse?"

''Being stationed in the verge of the Vast Swamp is not a comfy posting, yes, but one would hardly call it hell. I assure you you're very much in the land of the living. As far as theological writings, I'm afraid I have none on hand. I can arrange a visit to our shrine here, if you'd like. ''


The Provost leans back in his chair.
"You have not been very specific about your mission or the happening that sent you here. If your city is really so very far away, then surely the mission needn't be kept a secret from me? I'm concerned it might somehow present some indirect danger to my country, nothing intentional, of course. If an oath prevents you from discussing it, I understand. I do believe you about being lost, being foreigners, all that. And the incident, mishap, whatever-- what exactly happened? You were someplace else and then...you were in the swamp. How?"