Rostcal Malone - of Moonwood Masts

As the evening comes to a close, one of the merchants approaches. He hesitates as he approaches the large group, looking at the two alcoves that between them they fill, and finally settling on Lucretia, coughs slightly before speaking.

"I'm interested to know your movements on the morrow" he starts politely. "You see, if you were heading to Silverymoon, I thought you might like to travel with my party." He gestures over his shoulder towards another merchant, who smiles encouragingly. "You see, we will be heading to Silverymoon tomorrow with four wagons of lumber, eventually destined for the ship-builders of Waterdeep." He pauses a moment, smiling. "Moonwood Masts" he quotes, as if the group might have heard of his company. Seeing the blank looks, he coughs, and continues quickly. "Anyway, although we have a group of caravan guards to protect us during the journey, we thought it couldn't harm to travel together."

"What caravan guards?" Larz asks bluntly, looking around the inn.

"Oh, they're camped with the wagons tonight!" replies the merchant smiling. "They generally can't afford the prices in here!" he says lowering his voice slightly.

<Lucretia aka Joe wrote>:
> "Now if there be trouble and we prove helpful is
> saving your shipment, I would expect we would be
> rewarded...but I 'spect it will be a uneventful trip"

The merchant nods in agreement. "Yes, the Knights of Silver do a sterling job in patrolling the land between here and Silverymoon" he starts, before he over-hears Cleo's loud comment.

<Cleo aka Dan wrote>:
> Interrupting, Cleo pipes in, "Well, but don't forget
> the giants we ran into during our last trip there."

The merchant coughs, looking at her in alarm, before calming himself. "Yes, but they very rarely attack large groups..." he says quickly.

Scoffing, Cleo rolls her eyes as she smiles at he merchant and waves
her hand at the her group of friends, "NO," she begins
sarcastially, "just us 'smallish' groups of reknown adventurers armed
to the teeth with sword, bow and the arcane arts."

Looking back to Lucretia, he answers the original implied question. "By travelling together, we are all benefiting from the added protection of being a larger group" he says smoothly. "There is no need for any additional payment over that!" He glances around at their group for a moment. "It's not like you're standard caravan guards who are only making the journey for the money they are being paid!"

Cleo, wanting to mess with the man just for fun's sake,
retorts, "THAT is MY point, sir." she begins, "Do you really think
your caravan guards are going to risk life and limb to save your
logs, sir?" Smiley coyly, Cleo continues as if she's a businesswoman
making a deal, "I tell ya what. Think of us as "insurance". We'll
ride with you and if nothing happens, fine, we part company at the
city's gates. IF, however, the caravan is beset by giants or
whatever else and we save your hide, then you pay us each an award of
10 gold pieces. That's a better deal than you get from your guards,
who get paid regardless of whether or not their services were
needed. What say you?"

Lucretia looks at Cleo as she sputters on, "Ahh come
off it, we need no reward for simply traveling some
were we are heading anyway." "I think we have made a
pact to travel with this kind man...and it may be
mutually benafitual, if something should come up."
"Besides if he had 10 gp a head <Lucretia makes like
his is counting the party members> he would just pay
Merrell here a few hundered gold and have his would be
masts teleported to Waterdeep."

"She's just having a go at you <Luc says to the
merchant>, we'll see you in the morning."

Smiling broadly, Cleo glances back from Luc to the merchant, "Oh this
killjoy's right, I'm jus' having a little fun. We'll see you on the
morrow, good sir."

Merrell fought the urge to laugh out loud at Luc's
boast of his meager powers, but instead he eyed the
merchant with a rather serious look. "That would cost
our merchant friend a fair sight more than a couple
hundred gold for such a feat. I do not ply my trade
cheaply." the half elf mage replied with a smirk.

Merrell cracked a smile, "My muscle-bound friend has a
point. We are traveling to the very same city. And you
are right good sir, there is safety in numbers."

Merrell smiled again this time making eye contact with
Cleo before turning his attention back to the
merchant. "Just know this, it is you sir who travel
with us. This unlikely band of heroes are a family. If
trouble befall us we will protect each other, and the
lives of you and your men. But we will not risk life
and limb for a couple of wagon loads of lumber."

<Lucretia aka Joe continued>:
> "At dawn here we can break bread and head out..."
> <He extends his hand.> "Lucretia Trollcleaver at
> your service." <Motioning towards Serena> "And
> this lass here is Serena, a warrior as cunning as
> she is lovely."

The merchant shakes hands with Lucretia, smiling at the "trollcleaver" handle and nods politely to Serena and the rest of the party as he introduces himself. "My name is Rostcal Malone, of Moonwood Masts," he replies.

<Dorn aka Doug wrote>:
> Dorn stands up, staggers a bit, but walks over to Rostcal
> and introduces himself.
> "My name be Dorn, of the dwarves," he says a bit sluggishly

Rostcal smiles benevolently at Dorn. "And well met to you good dw..." he
starts politely, before Dorn rudely cuts him off.

> and with somewhat of a sneer, "and if i
> get this right we didnt ask you to travel
> with US for protection, you asked us to
> travel with you and you are hedging about
> money, i have no time for you, good night
> human!"

Rostcal steps back a little, somewhat taken aback by the rudeness of the
dwarf. He opens his mouth to protest, but closes it again as Dorn simply
turns his back and returns to his drink. He looks around the rest of the
party, as if to gauge their reaction.

Blondung, sat in the other alcove to Dorn and out of sight of the dwarf,
shakes his head and makes a motion of drinking at the merchant.

"Well, er, IF you want to travel with us, and perhaps rest your weary legs
on our wagons, then, I'll look forward to seeing you all tomorrow morning" he adds, describing the area where his wagons are located, before bowing slightly before returning to his companion.

***

In the morning, the group are awoken by the noises of the inn stirring
around them, and hurry their preparations for the day. As the sun rises,
the group, having eaten a hurried breakfast and said their goodbyes to the
innkeeper, make their way, some still rubbing sleep from blood shot eyes, to
the agreed meeting place. The merchants, together with a group of tough
looking men, were there already, finishing preparations on the wagons before
setting out.

The caravan guards, of which there were ten, were fairly quiet, and most
eyed The Unknowns with a mixture of distrust, apprehension and a little bit
of envy. Six, wearing what looked like ring mail and armed with sabres and
short horse bows, were on large mounts, the horses wearing stiff plates of
leather as well. Four more armoured men sat, one on each wagon, armed with
heavy cross-bows. The merchant who had spoken with the party the night
before, along with 3 other men, were the drivers of the wagons.

The wagons themselves however were the most impressive sight. Two tree
trunks, about 100 foot long, cut clean of all branches and almost impossibly
straight, lay side by side, top to bottom on each "wagon". Supported by two
pairs of wheels at the front which appeared to be able to turn
independently, and another four wheels at the rear, the "wagons" were
effectively tree trunks on wheels! An impromptu platform near the front,
lashed to the trunks was laden high with the merchant's equipment, and also
served as a makeshift lookout point for the crossbow wielder. Pulled by
eight heavy draft horses, these wagons would never move at a fast speed!

Rostcal Malone waved to the group as they approached. "We're leaving now!"
he calls. "I want to get to Silverymoon before Sornyn starts!" Some of the
group recall that Sornyn is a festival from the 3rd to the 5th of Flamerule,
marked by most merchants and traders as a period of reduced opening hours,
and by the more devoted of Waukeen, as a time when competitors put aside
their differences and come together to drink wine and celebrate their good
fortunes or commiserate their poor.

Serena is one of the first to leave the inn, the recent scene with Merrell and the various comments about the party breaking up still fresh in her mind as she hurries towards the caravan staging ground, hoping to catch up with Rostcal Malone before he continues on his journey towards Waterdeep. Arriving there, she is pleased to immediately spot the highly visible 100 foot long wagons of Moonwood Masts. Asking around, she soon finds Rostcal, who was in the process of interviewing a new guard - a replacement for Sohan, the man who had first fallen to the zombies.

After a short while, some form of deal is struck as the two shake hands, and as the man heads over towards the other guards, Rostcal turns, smiling as he spots Serena. "If I'd known you were coming to apply..."
he starts, but Serena can see the twinkle in his eye to show he isn't being serious. Serena explains why she wanted to talk to him, just really to pick his brains on the Moonwood.

Rostcal purses his lips at the query. "Well, Quaervarr loggers tend only to travel the outskirts of the Moonwood - the area within a few miles of the village" he starts. "Some of the local rangers go deeper, but not often, and travellers who travel the inner parts of the woods, well, some return, some don't. Those who do have often been lost for a long time." He leans towards Serena slightly, lowering his voice a little. "The local rangers talk about the woods as if they are alive you know!" He snorts. "Poppycock!" he says, standing straight again.
"They say they are one of the oldest woods in Faerun." He shrugs.
"Certainly there are some very old trees in those woods, but I've never sensed any evil about them, and as the ranger's say - 'treat the wood fair, and it'll treat you fair.'"

When Serena asks if he knows of any ruins within the woods, he shrugs again. "I've seen the remnants of ancient elf made trails, so mebbe there are other elf made ruins there too." Again he shrugs, and then frowns as he spots something that needs his attention up on his wagons.
Turning back to Serena, he extends a hand in farewell. "If you want info about the Moonwood, then speak to some of the rangers in Quaervarr."
His eyebrows rise as if he'd just remembered some detail. "Lairdlanggl, a half-elf ranger, find him - he's pretty knowledgeable about the Moonwood!"

Bidding her farewells and thanks to Rostcal, Serena leaves the master mast maker, and heads off towards Helmer's Wall, wondering who she will meet there to spar with.