As Ferrit turns the door knob on the Angels Guild building to go inside to reconcile books and take inventory, the knob detaches from the door when she pulls it. It appears the wood around the knob has rotted away and is flaking away in papery shreds.
*Ferrit sighs and says* "What now? Have those pesky kobolds learned a new trick?" *Putting down the knob, she examines the door and the area nearby carefully. She looks around hopefully for another guild member, or at least someone she can send with a message. Then she walks around to the side door and inspects it before trying the door.*
Some hours later, "Confound it!" Muttering dark oaths against shoddy craftmanship, Daniel stalks around to the side door. "Blast and bebother all rot! Is anyone in there? I cannot get the door open!"
Celador peeks from around the corner grinning at Dan.
"Why must you always yell at things? You must've really missed not having me around to yell at if you have come to the point at yelling at doors.."
He comes up from around the corner and notices the door handle..
"Oh, well.. You don't see that every day, do you? I would guess termites but, it looks more rotted then anything, aye?" He says as he turns to Dan.
Celador bends down and studies the rotted handled then reaches out to sense if the cause is magical.
//Celador... please roll a spellcraft check.
As Daniel stalks around to the side door making “angry old man sounds”, he can see that it is open and Ferrit is inside getting ready to lay her heavy logbook on a table. He hears Celador from around front and looks over his shoulder to answer, but is cut short in mid-sentence as his foot goes through a floorboard. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he sees he stepped into a patch of rotten wood that gave way.
As Celador begins looking closer at the rotting door knob he hears the sound of wood breaking from the side of the building.
Both Daniel and Celador hear a crash from inside the building. As Daniel looks up to see what the source of the new noise was, with his foot still in the floor, he sees that the wood table that Ferret laid her logbook on has fallen apart and crashed to the floor. Yup... Rotten wood table legs.
Favoring Celador with the greatest scowl his mustache can summon, Daniel steps carefully out of the hole, testing his footing as he does so. "I say, this cannot be natural, a rotted door handle maybe, but all this, nay." Daniel bends over searching the rotted wood of the floor for signs of insects or wetness using his hard earned knowledge of woodcraft to try and figure out the puzzle before him.
A young elf, dressed in sturdy and rugged clothes, peeks into the shop for a moment. He looks at Ferrit, Daniel and Celador, curious about what just happened. "Uhm...what's going on?" Perhaps yet another extortion racket. Perhaps a druid in disagreement with the guild. Perhaps a disgruntled customer. Weird stuff. He liked weird stuff, at times.
"You're right, Daniel. There must be mischief afoot, and the chances are it's magical. Celador, are you getting anything?"
Ferrit kneels to inspect the crumbled table, even pulling out a small magnifying lens to look for termite tunnels and such.
"Is it only wood that's rotting, or are other things affected, too?" She stands and begins walking around the room thumping couches, metal torch holders, pottery, and anything else she comes across.
//14+37=51
Celador, still in deep focus on the damaged door, extends his senses through the open door to the table.
"Only thing I'm getting at this moment is a strong whiff of Daniel's cologne.. I assume that's Lana's doing, Daniel?" he asks while maintaining his effort at the task at hand.
//Concentration check 8+30=38
The ranger sniffles briefly, and then goes to take a look at the rotten wood, to see if he could find a possible reason for this.
Daniel continues to search for physical causes for the rot muttering something about wizards who are too smart for their own good. "Tis soap, wizard, naught else." When Aden begins helping, he offers the elf a smile, "Ah, a real woodworking expert, excellent."
Celador scoffs "I'll have you know that I'm well educated on all matters of wood- wait that didn't come out right.. I've worked with with all types of wood from building materials to the finest bows.. So there.. abd besides i'm not certain that whatever this is, is natural. Doubt a woodsman could tell us that."
He turns to Aphel and smiles. "No offense, Aphel. Any insight you could provide would be most welcomed"
As Daniel scowls and searches around the hole in the floor he does not see any evidence of insect activity, and the rotted wood is dry to the touch. He does note that the wood appears to be rotting from the outside to the inside. It has a slight musty smell to it.
****
Ferrit’s examination of the table legs finds that rot from wood flooring underneath the legs seems to have crept into them. The rot seems to be spreading to surrounding intact wood. Her magnifying glass does not find any insects or grubs. No termite tunnels can be seen. Her cursory search of the room and other property finds that wood seems to be the only type of material being adversely affected.
She heads back to the chest containing the “mystery yew branch”, a little fearful at what she might find. He fears are confirmed. The bottom of the chest is now rotted through, and there is some deterioration beginning to show in the yew branch itself. It is likely that the chest will fall through the floor if it is not moved soon.
****
Celador concentrates on the rotten wood, and after muttering a few cantrips he discovers something that has him slightly puzzled.
//PM in progress...
****
Aphel’s examinations come up with similar results as Daniel and Ferrit. The rot appears to be natural, but it advances at an extraordinary rate. He has never seen or heard of anything like this in his travels.
Celador drops his focus and turns to the group.
" We have an issue.. there is a slight emanations coming from not the wood but from under the guild itself.. like the earth underneath and around the guildhall is radiating whatever it is.. I cannot put my finger on it but, I'm confident it is not a manipulation of the Al'Noth. Saying that, it has similarities with tribal rituals that I studied under my apprenticship with my father.."
He looks at each member with a concerned expression.
"Angels, we have a problem.. I need to go to my study and see if I can retrieve the book about ritual magic.. Perhaps I can negate whatever this trickery or curse is before it destroys anything else. I advise each of you here to consider anything that we have taken in to the guildhall in the last month or so that seemed out of place or just odd."
He turns on his heels, and starts to make for the door.
Daniel furrows his brow, "The earth itself you say? Odd that , since most of Hempstead rests upon a great block of stone honeycombed with sewers and caves. Perhaps a bit of spelunking is in order?"
The sill just fell off one of the windows. It drops to the ground in a puff of dust. A farmer from a nearby homestead pokes his head into the doorway and starts to ask something... but when he sees the state of the wood in the area says "Yep... you too. My barn just fell down on some of my hogs! What the heck is going on!?"
//This is going to go to calendar soon and will be about a three hour quest.
*Quenton pops up out of a rotten chest and remarks to the farmer* OH NO! are the hogs ok? I can come help fix em up if ya need!
The Farmer shakes his head at Quenton... "Thanks, but they are ok. Just some minor scratches, bumps, and bruises. Any idea what the heck is going on? "He holds up the metal portion of a hoe, a small nub of rotten wood sticking out of the end. "I found no sign of insect activity. This is just plain weird!"
*The metal handle to the chest lid pops off in Quenton's hand.
Well, I dunno... Cellar door ((Celador)) remarked about some sort of curse emanating from this building, so I was goin through all the chests looking for clues. But Cellar door hasn't come back from his study in a really long time!
*Kyle appears holding shards of a wooden hitching post*
"Strange...the wood near the stable is rotted away. I..." *sees the damage to the store* "Guess it's not confined to there. Has anyone checked the hall in town?"
Oh good idea! Not that I know of... I'll get right not that!
*Q runs out the door to the stable and grabs his semi-war pony, Horace, and rides to Port Hempstead to check on the main guild hall.*
As “Q” rides out he notices that nearly every manmade wood structure in the general area seems to be infected with rot, some advanced, some less so. He sees a lot of wild overgrown vegetation too, and is not too sure if it is new or if he just never noticed it before. The further from the Angel’s building he gets, the less rot he sees. After several miles he notices nothing. When he arrives at the Angel's hall in Port Hempstead he finds everything is as it should be…nothing amiss.
A couple of travelers passing by the Angel's building in Port Hempstead Fields look at it and chuckle. "Looks like they are falling on hard times." The other responds, "Aye, you'd think they'd have a little pride in keeping up the establishment. Hope their goods are no reflection of that." He smiles and chuckles again as they disappear around a bend in the road.
*Realizing it seems to eminate from the guild store, Q heads back and reports his findings*
It seems like maybe there is a bit more vegetation despite the rotten wood... We gotta figure this out and quick!
A Thistletoe Traders representative stops by to check on the commotion. Thorn Thistletoe himself it turns out has arrived to offer tea and sympathy. So Tea, sympathy, and name dropping quickly dispensed he sets aside a space outside to plant an iron framed cloth sign into the ground. "Yes that's real handcarved iron there, made to order, but you could probably spot that right off." He stands back to admire his handiwork.
The sign reads; In these terrible times of trouble Thistletoe Traders stands ready to help the Fallen Angels in their time of unfortunate but predictable circumstances. Anyone seeking goods at fair prices while trading rots off somewhat at the Angels should seek out Thistletoe Traders who will step in to try and help where they can. This company can be trusted to remain open all hours until the Angel can be dovetailed back together.
"Least I can do for a neighbour!" He reflects with apparent and flamboyant sincerity.
As Daniel makes his way across Hempstead fields toward the store, he stops and stares for a time at Thorn's sign. With a shake of his head and some muttered words, one being "opportunist" the others being inappropriate for man of his station, he opens the door carefully and steps in surveying damage. Breaking out his carpentry kit, he makes some small repairs where he can, then sits down in the middle of the floor, attempting to sense where this malady is eminating from.
//pm sent.
After about a week of investigation, spell casting, and repairing Daniel is startled and almost jumps out of his cod piece when the front door falls onto the floor when the hinges pull loose from rotten door framing. (Crash!)
//pm sent
With a deep sigh, Daniel cleans up the mess and goes back into Hempstead where he fashions a door out of copper. Dragging the heavy portal back with the help of a very reluctant ox, he sets it on the ground, eyeballing the problem of how to get it in place without hurting himself. He waits for others of the Guild to show.
Daniel notices on the way back to the shop there are quite a few other homesteads, farms, and shops within about a 5 mile radius of the Angel's building that are similarly affected. A couple of families are living in tents temporarily. You are a little concerned for their safety and hope they have no encounters with the local wildlife... or worse. When you finally arrive with the new copper door you notice that vines are now covering a good portion of the building sides. You hope their weight does not endanger the rapidly deteriorating structural integrity of the building.
*Kyle comes from the stable area...Eldarin in tow. Chuckling a bit when he sees Daniel with the copper door on the floor...it quickly dawns on him on what he wanted to do.*
"Seems you need a little help there Dan. We could rig up a pulley and use Eldarin here to hoist it up. He can take the weight while we put the door in place. And how do we fasten it to the door frame? All the wood seems to be rotting."
Sometime during a lull in the repairs, a bard has returned. From his unkempt slumber in the back room - so accustomed to wild living has he apparently become that he doesn't notice the decay at first, or perhaps it is that his spectacles have gone missing - he is awakened by Daniel and Quenton. His first thought is to his instruments and even before opening the crate his dismay is palpable. Disaster! Parts salvagable - pegs, strings, and the like, and the harps all of which are metal - are collected, but the rest of the lot is back-alley busk trash. He paces the room, merely confirming what others have felt. There is a taint in the Al'Noth. Something is off with the entire area, strongest where the Guild Shop sits. The vibrations of the room are angry, or perhaps taking vengeance, or is it justice? He can't tell. The resonance is fleeting, misty, as if he has to turn his attention away to feel a glimpse. He tries to play some Saytr pipes that came in with him, and are therefore still whole, but a murder of crows land on a nearby tree and their cawing drowns out his pipes. He feels the timing uncanny, yet it isn't such a coincidence that he can count it as a sign.
"Did you notice that only dead wood is affected?" His gaze is on the crows, perched in the robust tree that is mere feet from the right side of the building. Overgrowth is everywhere, and ivy crawls up the side of the beleaguered shop.
What is salvagable is taken to Port Hempstead and quarantined in an empty portion of the building for the time being. His bows and instruments are left in the safety of the Hall, and and only his platinum harp and mithril rapier return as his inspiration and weapon. With the others he loads up oxen to move the salvagable wooden goods to the Hall, cleans and patches, drags the few metal chests they have to the shop side, and slaps a sign on the splintered front door of the shop.
"Fair point, Master Kyle. In truth, the decay was not this advanced when I had the idea. Since the majority of the stucture is stone, perhaps a copper frame, pegged into the stone? What do you think?"
"Indeed...we'd have to fasten everything directly to the stone. Lot of sore muscles to be had here. Has there been any word on what is causing the wood to rot away?"
Sibbicai comes by making his usual rounds to do some trading, he stops well before reaching the store to take it all in, overgrown buildings with vines and brush surrounding the guild and saddlebags pawn. Two men awkwardly handling a copper door with another looking on.
He reads the sign from thistle traders prominently displayed out front. Huh, nothing like cashing in on someone elses misfortune...
Walking closer he reads the sign tacked to the rotted front door. Getting closer he overhears Daniels comment to Kyle
"Sir Daniel, what can I help with, it would seen you need a smith not a woodcrafter, or you could stretch some hides over the entrance as they are quite a bit lighter and dont take to rot as this building has". * looking up he tugs at some of the vines from around the doorway to clear some of it away and some of the wood it was attached too comes with it tumbling to the ground.* // dex check 18+2=20//
I dare say this seems to be most unnatural !//spellcraft check 1+29=30// I dont think you have time to craft a new building looking at the rate of decay of this place, hire a few guards and lets find the root cause of this!
Daniel pauses in his labors, whispering a quick couple of words to Kyle in elvish, "Cynyelweana amejilmw illw nyylaansesam." He smiles at Sibbicai. "Master Wizard Sibbicai, greetings. Sadly, I think you may be right. At this rate we may be rebuilding anew, but something must be done to keep the animals out. I fear hides may not suffice and my own skill at such things is inadequate. I do think your phrasing of 'root' may bear fruit, If I dare push the pun a bit further."
*Quenton ducks around the copper door and comes outside*
Oh Come on Sir Danny! You know I can keep the animals out, or in if we want em... I could get a bear or a dire wolf to keep watch. And Katrina ((his panther friend)) is always lurking, why do you think we haven't had any mice or rats since I joined! But ya know I can tan up some sorta hide door if we want... or copper or whatever *shrugs* And I'd certainly start collecting wood to rebuild once we figure this whole shebangle out. You want I could polymorph into a umber hulk and start digging down to get a peak? or I could just ask a badger to do it... Probably best if I just do it, badgers are always cranky. *casts polymorph self and turns into an umber hulk and starts digging a hole a good 30 feet behind the guild store.*
"Excitable fellow, is he not?" Daniel says to the two remaining men with a chuckle. "Part of his charm, I suppose. I have no better ideas so, perhaps we should go make sure he does not fall into a deeper pit than he can climb out of , eh?" Daniel sets down his work and follows Q.
Quenton changes form, Al’Noth wrapping him in her embrace, and in this new form he begins to dig. Soil and rock spray from the hole as he goes deeper. After a few minutes of digging he is about 15 feet down and is hitting a layer of solid stone. When he stops to assess his situation he begins to get a very bad feeling. He turns and nearly jumps out of his Umber Hulk carapace when he sees what looks like a small humanoid face composed of dirt and mud staring at him with angry eyes from the wall of his hole. He blinks and it is gone. Was it really there? He cannot say for sure…
Sibbicai excitedly agrees, wanting to use his magic for something. He watches the transformation take place and he too changes form into an Umberhulk and assists the digging top side clearing around the hole of dirt and pushing it topside and away from the hole. After no dirt seems to rise from the hole he asks Quenton why the digging has stopped?
Daniel, watching keenly from the top of the hole, notes the stoppage of work and bends down trying to see why, "What is it, Quenton? Why have you stopped?"
*Q climbs out of the hole and polymorphes back into his normal form*
Well... I hit a layer of solid bed rock, not surprising really. But... I thought I saw something... not sure who... or what... I thought I saw a face looking at me in the muck and the mire. *shrugs* it looked mad. That seems odd.
A thoughtful Daniel strokes his mustache, "No, not so odd. I felt an anger in my augeries and now we have a face, fleeting as it is. I think we should do some exploration below soon. Try to make contact , friendly if possible. The Angels have been here for some decades, but only now does this strike us? Something must of happened to cause this anger. We need to figure out what."
*Kyle slowly backs Eldarin off to give him a break from the lifting and stares into Quenton's hole*
"Are you saying there is an angry spirit afoot...Daniel? If so...we would need to delve into the history and legends of this area...see what was here before Port Hempstead and the homes around here. Could shed some light on this before we confront whatever Quenton saw."
*Sibbicai polymorphs back as well and listens in*. Agreed he says, I enjoy reading and delving in books and I'm quite good at gathering information for as young as I am.
"I concur. Some delicacy is required here. Since this house seems to be the epicenter, the history of this plot of land is in order. We can ask the locals for history, and Port Hempstead may have records on who's owned the lands before.
"It's not out of the question to ponder if the sheer volume of magic in one location is tipping the balance too. I mean..." He gestures around the room; " This is a LOT of magic of varying types. It could be irritating someone or something sensitive. Kyle, if you want to do the deeper dive into the history, I can research previous owners and the history of this plot."
A pause later...
"I wonder if it would be worth asking the kobolds, assuming we can find a speaker and broker a truce long enough to talk? Their kind have been in the hills far longer than we have I think."
Daniel nods to the others, "Since we are in agreement, perhaps some direction. Master Sibbicai, would you be so kind as to enquire in Hempstead for records pertaining this parcel? Master Kyle could go with you, he is the oldest recognized member of our Guild." Daniel looks to Andrew briefly as if willing to let him confirm his suggestions or offer his own role before continuing. "I can attempt contact with the kobolds with Quenton. I think it best one or more of us stay in the area in case our 'guest' returns."
"In that case, I'd be interested to examine the magic of our items in the shop and if it's contributing to the dischord. I did catch a faint hint of emotion, I believe; perhaps with some help I can delve deeper. Muse, I wish Minu was here to help, this is her area. I hope she got my letters." He paces a moment, running his silver heart and clef along its chain. "In the meantime perhaps I can entice Celador to assist? If not I'll need to recruit. This kind of pulling of strings really needs more than just one."
"Will do. Sibbicai and I will comb through the City archives. And I'll nedd to touch base with Ferrit. The two of us are founding members of the guild. I'm sure we can find something."
//PM coming to you Raven. Need to get my Lore Skill and INT
"You want me to talk to Kobolds? That's probably not the best idea, I mean they are barely better than stinking gobbos... but I guess I can try to be nice to em..."
"In the meantime perhaps I can entice Celador to assist? If not I'll need to recruit. This kind of pulling of strings really needs more than just one."
"Feel free to entice or recruit as neccesary, old friend. I must say, Celador has been very reclusive of late. I meant to raise the issue of recruiting a wizard at our meeting, but I shall raise the issue now for consideration instead." Daniel mutters something about herding cats and wizards after he finishes speaking. He glances in the direction Sibbicai went with Kyle toward Port Hempstead meaningfully.
The bard, wishing to get to work, starts a holistic assessment of the magics of the store. He finds himself looking into the hole Quenton's dug repeatedly, trying for a glimpse of the creature that his halfling friend swears he saw. He sings soothing songs he's written in the desert forest, hoping it will entice...whatever...to come and listen while he looks for magical "hot spots", especially around areas where wooden items were located. Not too long after he begins, a bird drops a letter onto his head. He rushes to read it before it can disintigrate. If anyone is around and looking in his direction, they will see the bard tear up and kiss the parchment before holding it to his chest. His song cheers considerably after receiving the missive, and he looks out the window as often as in the hole now.
//Andrew is spellcraft checking the combination of magics that the store radiates, as so many of the items are enchanted and not all with neutral magics. He'll try to hone in on areas that may feel "irritating" to a magic-sensitive being. He'll also poke his head down into the hole and sing to the dirt. He can't help himself.
Master Sibbicai and Kyle spend many, many hours in the archives of Port Hempstead. Several record keepers assist them with their various requests, bringing ledger after ledger. The candles burn low, are replaced, and burn low again. They track down land deeds and auditing files for the various land holdings in the Port Hempstead Fields area from owner to owner, but do not see anything that jumps out at them. Kyle finally finds the first recorded record for the land where the Angel’s Hall sits. It appears that the land was granted to an individual by the reigning Duke of Port Hempstead nearly 750 years ago, after it was forcibly taken from a kobold tribe in the name of economic progress. Sibbicai grimaces… “Kobolds.”
----
Andrew walks the now decaying hallways and rooms of the shop… he reaches out to the Heartsong and he feels discord. The air resonates with an increasing level of disharmony… anger… a hint of vengeance? The vibrations feel old, as if they have been floating in the ether for centuries, and like a cello who’s strings are suddenly stroked in a violent motion of the bow, suddenly come to life. Placing a bare hand on a now rotting wall he can almost feel it trembling slightly. None around him seem to notice.
Time after time he looks into the hole, but does not see any appearance of the face seen by Sibbicai. He feels that the soothing songs are falling on deaf ears… but that might simply be his imagination.
---
Daniel continues to find rot throughout the building. The vines and weeds outside get thicker on a daily basis. He does his best to repair things and keep the building from falling as the others work on their tasks and lines of investigation.
*Sibbicai heads into town with Kyle, he first stops at his parents house and tells them about what has happened and asks them if they know the area he mentions as it once was, or who to speak to in public records office?*
//Sibs parents are retired dragon called adventurers turned traders moving goods to surrounding areas from Hemp.
// sadly I cant make the quest, by the time I get home (at 11pm pst) from work it will be over.
Thorn stands on a box and announces to passing traders. "Sadly it seems the blight that has befallen the Fallen Angel would appear to have followed them to there holding warehouses in Hempsted too. There is a terrible affliction of unnatural plant growth and in particular the spread of rare pipeweeds. This is a bigger garden than first thought!"
He steps off his box, picks it up for possible resale and walks away.
Shaking his head, the bard looks out the window again. He talks half to himself and half to anyone in the room. "Old...older than our little venture. Old, angry, and getting angrier. Stroking the wood, the bard lets out a long breath, and calls to his guildmate weeding outside. "Daniel! It's worse - feel the walls. It almost feels like trembling. In the chance that my imagination is taking me on a journey again, is it instead that the building is about to come down?" He runs a long finger around the window's frame. "I feel that this has been festering for an elf's life, old friend. Just roiling, waiting. Something has brought all this discontent together very suddenly. I don't believe it's the magics of our shop that is directly the trouble, not from what I've felt at any rate."
Daniel strides in clutching some weeds, "Eh?" Looking up he considers, "It is possible the roof timbers could give, but these walls are stone and waddle. We shall have a mess and .." He pauses. "We may need to shut down the store for a time. I would hate to be responsible for someone getting hurt in a collapse. Best to side on caution, do you not agree?"
"I have to agree. We can't have anyone hurt. I'll update the signs."
"Does anyone know how to say 'parley' in Kobold? Seems that some Duke of Port Hempstead granted this land to merchants or other commercial ventures some 750 years ago...after forcibly evicting the kobolds that were here. Wonder if the kobolds over the hill are of that same tribe that got forced out? Could explain some things..."
Starting with the shop, the bard now paces around the foundation and then in ever-increasing circles, looking for the place where the overgrowth and dead wood decay feels strongest. He brings a stave of hickory left in the shop, using it as a diving rod and watching the wood's exterior to find where the concentration of wood blight has the quickest effect, in conjunction with his magical sense and whatever he's able to parse from the Heartsong.
Nothing of note is found within the shop itself… but as Andrew paces around the foundation, after his third ring he is nearly stopped dead in his tracks on the east side of the building. About 15 feet from the shop is a large rock. The disharmony in the Heartsong is almost tangible as his boot touches the old worn granite. With shaking fingers he reaches down and rolls over the small bolder. Attached to the rock is a small wood sign that has the following words carved into it and blackened, most likely with a red hot piece of iron. “Ernesto Di Valla – Granted: Novlar 11, -10677”
Your jaw drops. If the date is correct, the piece of wood is approximately 750 years old. There is not any sign of rot or deterioration. No insect activity. The wood is pristine. You fail to see how this is possible due to its age, exposure to the weather, and being underneath a rock in damp soil for who knows how long.
"DaniELLLLL...." His call is not meant for Daniel alone but anyone else in the area, although his friend is first to mind as the old cleric has been puttering around the builidng with a hammer. He drops down to examine the area around the stone and mutters the name to himself, thinking though the prominent family names of the nearest city, Port Hempstead. "Ernesto Di Valla. Di Valla...Di Valla..."
Trying to scribble down the events between houses, Andrew does a circuit of the fields to see who needs what in terms of items. He focuses on how much planking might be needed to repair buildings, and tools lost to the nature spirit's anger. He'll stop to tell the tale, and to emphasize how the kobold shama helped - any good will is better than none, after all.
Once he has an idea of how far and badly the damage spread among the neighbors (including the Pawn Shop), he'll bring his assessment back and estimate how much wood they'll need to rebuild. He will bargain for whatever portion of that can be obtained from the Dirty Claw tribe (at fair value in trade). True to their guild agreement, however, no weapons will be offered to the kobolds as part of the trade deal.
Daniel drops the last stone in place to the makeshift blacksmith forge and wood cutting station. Glancing around, he seems satisfied with the set up before going to work removing rotting wood from the store. Spotting Andrew walking about, "Andrew, if you are going to trade, ask if they have any hickory and aloe in exchange for healing potions, will you? The hickory makes excellent window framing."
Wagon loads of wood begin making their way into the Hempstead Fields area. The Dirty Claw High Shaman Kronkslivak has been true to his word. Trade with the kobold tribes has progressed thus far with no bloodshed when representatives of the Angel’s Guild are present. Poachers and other encroachments on kobold lands have been met with their usual warlike ferocity though, and the occasional head on a stick can still be seen near their borders.
Some have noted an old gnarled tree on a cliff overlooking the Angel’s shop. Many have remarked on how odd it is as they never noticed it before, yet the tree looks so old and decrepit… as if it has been growing there for centuries. Upon closer inspection the old tree has the vague appearance of two wooden creatures interlocked in an embrace. From time to time kobolds can be seen sneaking to and from this area, offerings of food and crafts left at the base of the tree.
With the influx of wealth into the kobold tribal lands, it appears that the influence of the Dirty Claws has grown among their own kind. Rangers have reported seeing many other smaller bands and their tribal elders travelling to the area.
In recent developments... Two agents of Thistletoe Trading were found killed, their arrows full of kobold arrows. A half orc body was found near the new tree on the cliffs overlooking the Angel’s shop, and an elven body was found near the border of kobold tribal holdings. Other Thistletoe agents in the area fled when news reached their ears. Rangers surmise that they may have represented some type of perceived threat by the Kobolds to both their sovereign rights, and to their newly returned nature spirit.
There are currently no indications of any precursor to large scale raiding by kobold war parties...
Daniel informs Trent, Captain of the Hempstead Guard, of what has transpired with the kobolds and the Angels Guild and asks that he refrain from further encouragement of raids into their territory. He reassures the man that the kobolds are protecting their territory and show no signs of massing to raid the farmlands beyond.