All Adventures are Local - Chapter 1

Hunting for hunters

Fegstaf looks a bit bewildered at the four leaf rock in his hand. Uhm, well uh, thanks. This is man's work love, why don't you wait outside, yes? I'll be right with you when I'm done and you can help me make my wish come true... He takes the cow's hide from your hands, Nàdair, but not before you notice the puncture holes are just slightly bigger than the average wolf's nips, but nothing that seems unnatural. He smiles at you a flings a lock of his hair back before turning his attention to Børk. Sorry about that, yeah, do three gold and three silver and be done with it! Let's go make things in order so I can give that lovely lady all of my attention.

From behind, at the door, you hear a gasp of admiration as the halfling pokes his head inside the store, his eyes twinkling, mouth hanging open as he stares at Nàdair speechless.

Traders

The boy looks a little shaken when he realizes how many people there are in the room, and all of them full grown. He looks slightly underfed, and can't be more than eleven or twelve years old. There's not much I 'member sir. Uhm - he says, swallowing deeply before daring to pick up a small crumb of the pastry. We was comin' in from Marstaal's Point. Takin' the main road through Hadrigan's, same as always. I been a few times with the caravan now, I'm learning the routes! his eyes light up as he mentions that he's getting a chance to learn the trade routes, clearly a source of pride for the lad. When he looks around the room again, he remembers why he's there and tucks back into his story.

Well, we was comin' through the Swamp, just crossed over the forked crick, maybe a half-glass before? These nasty noises started, just shufflin' leaves and groanin'. Ol' mister Severn, he was the driver this run, he didn't know what it was, so he leaned on them mares pretty hard. I was in the back of the cart and felt us go faster, well as fast as you can in them woods. It wasn't long before the growling started. I peeked out under the canvas, and saw these - these things. It was dim, but enough that I could see 'em. Some was gray, some this sick green color. Like meat that's gone bad. It was damn - oops. he says, clapping a hand over his mouth, not sure if he should be saying the word. Sorry, it was really really awful. Like I told Lady Elayne last night, I'm lucky I got out alive! I hid in the cart when they were attackin', 'specially after I watched one of them pull Billy's arm off and start eating it. When they started takin' the wagon off the road, I just kind of, well, fell out of the back. Laid in the mud for a bit and then ran here. I knew we was heading down this road, so I just followed it and ran. Stole some early veggies from the farm on my way in, since I had no food. I told Lady Elayne I'd pay 'em back! he says, once again suddenly scared seeming.

At this point, it doesn't take much to realize the lad is still very worked up over the whole situation. The starts of tears well up just in the corner of his eyes.

Hunting for hunters

Børk sends an apologetic look in Nàdair's direction before turning away, leading Fegstaf to the counter.
Meanwhile outside the halfling looks up at Mandrake and smiles before taking a berry. Thank you, sir, I like Goodberries, we sometimes get them. He pops the berry in his mouth, cheeks turning red as Nàdair pats his head. He stares at her again, absentmindedly rubbing his right forearm and flinches, pulling his arm to his chest and looking back at Mandrake.
You're Mandrake the healer, maybe you know what I should do. I have seen the wolves, about a week ago. There were six of them in the cow pasture, four pretty normal looking, but two where huge, bigger than a horse! I saw one of the normal ones catch a cow and I ran at him, trying to scare it off, I was very brave! But when I got closer I saw this one was definitely bigger than a normal wolf too, I uh, I was pretty scared and made a sound that did make the wolf let go of the cow. He snapped at me and scraped my arm. Fegstaf was pretty angry at me for running towards them and I didn't want to make him more upset so I hid the scrape, thinking it would heal, but it hasn't yet... He peels back his sleeve, revealing a quite nasty wound.

Traders

On Matters of Caravans
Belfleur and her caravan are no longer in Bromwich. Their report was over a month ago. They've not returned since. It's not uncommon for a given company to only make a visit once every month or two. So it's not known yet if they haven't come back because something happened to them, because they don't want to risk it again, or because they just aren't planning on being back yet.

On Matters of the Swamp
Hadrigan's Swamp is a bit of local legend. Ages ago, near to the founding of Bromwich, the then mayor was named Edgar Hadrigan. A forceful presence with an eye to expand the new village. He had large hopes to make Bromwich a major trading city, and hoped to make it a seat of power in the little duchy that was there at the time. Seeing a marshy swampland as a place that could be cleared and magicked to give them a commanding border, he sent a dozen of his best fighters into that dreary place with a hedge wizard. The band never returned. Hadrigan was beside himself. He raised a band of farmers and tradesmen, almost forty of them. They stormed the swamp with torches and farm implements as weapons. They too never returned.

The next mayor named the swamp Hadrigan's Folly and swore that she wouldn't send another person to their death in that place. Over time, it lost the Folly part of the name and simply became "Hadrigan's Swamp". So long as those passing through are peaceable and keep to the road, there haven't been issues in generations.

This story is learned by any schoolchild in Bromwich.

On Matters of the Undead
Father Mikhael and the Brothers and Sisters at the Abbey of the Wayward Saint would likely have more information on the undead. They aren't precisely in town, but an hour or two ride south from the main gate. If you would like to see if you know anything else about it, either Nature or Religion would be applicable to see what you may recall.

Hunting for hunters

The halfling reluctantly lets his arm get examined. My name is Storm, but everyone calls me Hunter. Fegstaf is good for letting me train with him, I really like hunting and tracking, but he isn't the most patient man. I prefer to wait outside when he gets angry like today.... He winces a bit as Mandrake touches an edge of what's clearly an infected wolf bite, not too deep, but with black edges and judging from the wet on his sleeve a steady flow of pus. Judging from the size this wasn't made by a horse sized wolf.
Hunter continues, voice less steady as he knows his wound isn't right at all. Yes, it was the same cow. The wolf was pretty big but like a baby compared to the big ones! If that would've gotten me my arm would not have survived! But he wasn't playing, he was going to eat it! The third cow that farmer lost!

In general you both know that werewolves aren't affected at all by normal weapons, unless treated with silver, magic or magical weapons do have effect. The elves in Mosstop know there have been werewolves in the forest, even after they've all been chased out of Bromwich a little over 300 years ago. Since they've not been overwhelmingly harmful for the forest and it's inhabitants, keeping a normal balance intact, they've not interfered with them, yet they don't feel the need to protect them when a new hunt is set up.

Hunting for hunters

Hunter keeps his eyes on his arm, too focused on the examination to respond to Nàdair's comments other than a soft mumble. Playing? He says he's more man than I'll ever be...

When Mandrake holds up the coin Hunter frowns, looking up at the healer with doubt written all over his face. He then squares his shoulders, taking a deep breath and puffing up his chest before taking the coin and after nodding that he's ready pressing it firmly on his wound. AAHH! Hurry! It huuuurts! Please, please Mandrake! I want to stop! Hunter grunts between clenched teeth. As soon as the spell is done he drops the coin and you can see a burn mark, an exact copy of the coin, etched into his skin. The infected wound has healed completely.

Traders
The young boy looks up from his untouched pastry. M'name's Atticus, sir, from Marstaal's Point. There's not much there, but it's where I was born. he says, a touch of happiness in his voice at the mention of his parents. No sir, I didn't 'counter anything else. I hid anytime it was dark out and only traveled when it was bright. Bad things can't get you in the bright light, that's what Pa always said. he continues, pushing the food to one side.