The Lynden Woods (Prologue)

Prologue: The Lynden Woods

The party was gathered around a campfire in the Lynden Woods and it was at least an hour after nightfall. Talia's wagon and the horses stood close nearby, close enough for them to keep a proper eye on them, but until now the horses had seemed content and quiet.

Talia was sitting with one of her brother Markus' ledgers in hand.



"This journal does mention this Nestor fella quite a bit. Says he was a mage and a drunk who owed Markus money. Apparently he liked to gamble and Markus had given him a quite considerable loan, so that Nestor would be able to pay off some debts to some other people and not be kicked out of his home. Suddenly Nestor had come to money, lots of money, in unexplainable ways, but had begun avoiding Markus like the plague. Other people said he had become very strange and kept talking about some master of his and that he had to go and find him. One day, he simply left without saying goodbye to anybody..."

Suddenly they all heard loud noises coming from the bushes within the woods, and the horses became audibly scared.

"Did you hear that?" Talia exclaimed. "Quick! Grab your weapons!"

Ymeria quickly grabs their rapier, standing up quickly, still thinking about the story they had been told and what it meant, but that was a worry for another time. Their sword giving of a gentle blue glow, and their eyes darting around looking for whatever it is.

Cyrus runs the skillet over the flames, passing fresh caught rabbit to his newfound companions. As his patron reads and comments on Markus' ledger, his eyes dart up to her and back to the food, his eyes raised and pointy ears perked up to show attentiveness to both.

He takes a moment, thinking on what Hardrak Hesken said about Nestor and his patron, Talia's, comments of his urge to find his Master. Lynden Woods, a Mage... Could it be a mythical creature? He makes use of his Hunter's Bane feature, his knowledge Fey, Fiends and Undead shining through.

History Check with advantage: 18 is the result.

As the bushes rumble and Talia begins to speak, Cyrus lets out a sigh and mutters "Of course..." as the only meal left unprepared was his own, everyone else having either finished, been eating or at least offered a full rabbit mixed with fresh herbs and spices. He tosses his meal to the side, unsheathes his rapier and holds his shield close, standing behind Talia with his back to her.

"We come in peace!" Cyrus calls out "Probably... unless you're Nestor... maybe even still..." he begins to eye his now grassy and dirty half-cooked rabbit before his ears and eyes perk up once more, ready for a battle.

Suraj, previously napping, was quickly roused by the sudden noise and the scared horses, and becomes a blur as he zips up to the forefront, hurriedly tying his bandanna around his hair. "Whah..? Okay, a'ight, what's going on, who's decided to act out at this hour..?"

A Drin man in a very bad shape half crawled out from the bushes, bleeding quite heavily from several wounds.

"Don't..." He collapsed on the dirt entirely and with his last breath finished the sentence: "Go to Lyndencreek..."

Cyrus' History Check:

Ymeria doesn't quite relax, and in a moment they become a blur, before suddenly appearing by the man. Sheathing their blade as they watch him collapse, their shortish hair waving somewhat in a wind that was definetly stronger than whatever was going through the forest. Ymeria's crimson eyes fixated on the person. Moving to check his pulse, see if he is actually dead, or just passed out. Looking to the others with a raised eyebrow.

"So I guess we have found where we are heading next." They say, displaying a shit eating grin. "Trouble is usually the best clue."

"Stay ready, whatever chased him could be nearby." Cyrus says, stepping away from Talia to check the trail made by our new found friend. He begins searching for fey, fiend or undead tracks, signs that they could be nearby as well has taking note of the man's injuries. "I'm not well versed in first aid, so if any of you can help, that'd be swell."

Survival Check with Advantage Result: 19

"As much as I want to say that is a bad idea..." The very tall, accidentally ominous figure of Menkalinan speaks up, voice reverberating even behind a mask. "It is, unfortunately, our first lead. Although, unfortunately, medicine is not in my category of talents."

Most people would honestly be intimidated by the dark-skinned, lanky man standing behind everyone else with sharp yellow eyes. But, as the party found out, he is just. Not good at social situations.

And especially random men passing out.

Suraj zips over, concerned, and kneels down near the collapsed Drin. "Aw, damn, he's been through the wringer.."

He will, nonetheless, do what he can for him.

Ulafiel also isn't well-versed in medicine either, but she's not a novice. Still, seeing Suraj go to their aid, Ulafiel nods and lends him her aid. She's always been better at working with groups of anyways, so as she helped Suraj, she tries to offer them words of encouragement.

"Don't worry, everything's going to be fine." She says in a gentle tone to ease their nerves, at least as best she can.

The Drin was dead. No medicine was going to save him. He had endured his grave and fatal wounds for as long as his soul could bear it, and had finally succumbed to them and exhaled his last breath.



Talia Arcrow: "Perûden. One of Markus' companions." A dark shadow came across her face. "This doesn't bode well..." The shadow faded and was replaced with a look of determination. "We must try, however. I've only heard dark tales and warnings about Lyndencreek. Another one isn't going to keep me from trying to find my brother."

Cyrus' Survival Check:

Cyrus knelt, pinching the dirt pressed into hoove prints and sprinkled it in the air, sniffing "Satyr... north west..." He rose to his feet to make eye contact with the duo over Perûden's body, confirming his death. "Satyr's are intelligent enough, and these tracks are fresh. We might learn something if we follow this one down. Of course, it could be a waste of time, so I won't make this decision alone. What say you, companions?"

A common satyr in their territory or a potentially dangerous city... both options are bad. Menkalinan muses to himself, pupils narrowed to a thin point as he bites on a clawed finger under his mask.

"As tempting as the satyr looks, I recommend following the instincts of a lady who had been looking at this case for longer." He states his conclusion. "Besides, it would be best to find information on this associate in there, as well."

"Heh. I'm pretty sure whatever's waiting at Lindencreek won't be a match for us," Suraj smirks, but gives a solemn look to the corpse as he stands back up. "Let's get going there. Besides, those satyr tracks probably even meaning anything... that chance is kinda low. Lead that way, Talia," he nods, his earlier energy returning.

"Don't be too overconfident." Ulafiel tries to warn. "Nobody is invincible. You'd probably do well to remember that." She tells Suraj. "But regardless, it seems our destination is set. We should not waste too much more time, agreed?"

Talia Arcrow: "Perûden was a friend of the family. I cannot allow myself to leave his mangled corpse on the roadside like this. We have to burry him, before we move on. His fresh blood may attract beasts, so let us be on our marks, and have at least two from the group stand guard, while the rest of us dig a proper grave for him."

"Ah, the heart strikes efficiency once again." Cyrus pulls his shovel out and begins to dig below one of the nicer looking trees. "We should burn him and be done with it, time is of the essence. He's dead, if he wasn't alone, others are likely running or fighting for their lives." He says his opinion on things like it doesn't matter, as he knows his logic won't stand up to the emotions Talia feels. So he digs.

"But a fire would bring undue attention to us as well. At least a burial can be kept quiet." Menkalinan interjects with a deep sigh, before turning to Talia, hands behind his back so that he could wring them without being seen immediately. "Worry not, we would be happy to give respect to a friend."

"Yeah.. anyone here know some magic that'll, like, let us take the body somewhere else? Or, uh, bury it quicker? I saw someone just move a hunk of dirt once. Anyone got that skill..?" He looks around, arms folded as he glances this way and that, clearly eager to get moving.

"I'm afraid not." Ulafiel sighs. "I do have some spells that can perhaps move the dirt, like my magic missiles, but nothing that can do it with any sort of control." She laments somewhat. "My apologies, everyone." Ulafiel bows her head somewhat in respect.

"Then grab a shovel and quick yer yappin." Cyrus says with a short sigh. As if he has had this conversation before, knew just about how it would play out, and still managed to be disappointed. (Which is very clearly his own fault)

While part of the group digs a grave for Perûden, and the other keeps watch, a shade appears in the light of the moons some 30 feet on the road in front of them.

It moves slowly and casually towards them and as soon as its features becomes visible, it becomes apparent that the creature is some kind of satyr. A very ugly kind though, almost impish in its features...



"Greeetings travelers. I am Snicklejick. I see you are digging, something I happen to be very good at... May I help you?"

"Oh, well if you're good at it then yeah, that'd be swell!" Cyrus' demeanor becomes one of relief and relaxation. "Hey, this is just like back at the bar when I spilled the ale on everyone and used prestidigitation to clean it up. I'm good at cleaning, not digging." he looks to the group with a smirk, reminding them of a tale that did not happen. Cyrus doesn't know prestidigitation, or any proper spells for that matter, nor did he spill ale on the group. But Snicklejick doesn't know that. Cyrus holds out his shovel for Snicklejick to take and rests his hand over his sword in a nonchalant, but easy to draw way. He hopes his actions tell his allies that this satyr has a malicious aura about him while still deceiving the Snicklejick into a trap, but he's likely laid it on a little to thick.

Deception Check Result: 8

Menkalinan might look like a strong guy, but he's more of a delicate scholar than anything else, so he has decided to stay on watch. Not to mention, he's very unsettled by the freaky looking satyr that Cyrus is not even reacting to (what the absolute fuck).

He tries giving any party member a startled look and gestures for them to be ready for something to go wrong, absolutely unsettled.

Suraj needs no such heads-up; he's already on alert for any fuckery, trickery and/or shenanigans the satyr might pull. He's quite unsettled himself as he keeps his guard up, ready to bolt away at a moment's notice.