They walked for a while between the stream and the marsh, the ruins passing them by as they walked. Though it had not been said, Chance felt it likely that it was there that the troll had come from. He was still uncertain about what had gone on, but a visit to the ruins before long might be in order. If the trolls were as knowledgeable as Shags had said, Maedryn might be able to assist him with getting his bearings at the very least.
Then once more they were back in among the forest as the path bent around and headed back towards Azval Stalvaq, the bright sun being shaded from them. As they walked, Chance kept his eyes open, searching around; his knowledge of nature pinging as he spotted edible foods; berries and herbs for the most, but even patches of wild onion and leeks and mushrooms which he collected up and added to the box of food. The Craghand in him was already making plans for it all.
A soft breeze blew through the forest and there were plenty of birds out and singing to keep them company. There were also signs of more rabbits, which set Shags to panting but with the travois strapped to him there wasn’t much he could do about it.
In time they came back to the cave and Chance unstrapped Shags. The wolf stretched and shook himself out, glad to be released finally.
About time.
Go for a run, Chance told him. Shags needed no second suggestion and loped off silently into the woods around while Chance organised all the supplies they had collected. While it had not rained since he had arrived, it would at some stage and he needed somewhere secure to store everything, not to mention a better place to sleep. In the meantime all the walking and work had left him a mite peckish. A few eggs or potatoes wouldn’t have gone amiss but he had to make do with what he had.
As he started to lay twigs and dried grass in the fire pit ready to start a fire, he noticed Yrip standing nearby, almost hopping from foot to foot, looking anxiously towards the forest.
“What is it?” Chance asked, reaching for his spear, half expecting trouble.
“Er, can I go?” Yrip asked wringing his scaled hands together.
“Go?” Chance asked, then shook his head. “If you wish. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want. Any reason you want to go?”
“Just, um, stuff,” Yrip replied, grinning nervously.
“Knock yourself out.”
“Sorry?” asked Yrip, confused.
“It means go and have fun.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I won’t be long, master.” With that Yrip scurried off into the forest, disappearing into the undergrowth.
Some help would have been nice, he felt, but then again he didn’t own either of them; they were free to come and go as their wish, Yrip’s misunderstanding of who he was notwithstanding. If he had ordered Yrip, the little kobold would have obeyed instinctively. He couldn’t do that though. It would be taking advantage of his naivety.
When the fire was ready, he started it with the whispered word, Avaq, sending it bursting into flames. He slowly built it up until it was burning nicely before putting the pot filled with water on it. While waiting for the water to heat up, he chopped up the leeks and onions and mushrooms he had found, then added them and some dried meat and herbs to the pot, stirring them in. A pinch of salt was added and he left it there to cook.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
He sat down near to the fire to keep an eye on the stew as it cooked, taking out the parchment. He really wanted to know about trolls. The problem was that every time before he had to find a word mentioned already on the parchment and focus on it to gain more information. There was no mention of trolls on it that he had seen, and a search through all the various knowledge he had unlocked for a mention of them could prove long and futile. He hoped there was a better way.
“Troll,” he said, holding the parchment before him. There was no change in it.
Troll, he thought, but still nothing.
Maybe it wasn’t enough just to think the word, he pondered. Maybe it had to be directed, much as when conversing to Shags. The difference was that it was an object with no mind of its own, no way to connect that he could see. Still, there was no other real option and so he tried it, focusing his thoughts upon the parchment, trying to project to them as he did with Shags.
Troll.
The details displayed upon it faded away and a new message appeared upon the surface of it.
Knowledge unlocked: Trolls
Affinity: Lore
A solitary race of large people seemingly made from the elements of the earth, there are few trolls around, and seldom do they make themselves known bar when they are seeking out knowledge, for the trolls are loremasters without equal, collecting and storing ancient lore. For the most they can be found dwelling in old sites of power. While physically imposing, they consider knowledge and the mind more worthy.
Stats: Body: 8. Mind: 9. Soul: 6. Reaction: 5. Presence: 6. Perception 4.
Affinities: Lore, Earth, others vary with individual.
Skills; Many, varies with individual.
Powers: Many, varies with individual.
While Chance didn’t understand just what the values of the stats meant, the fact they were so much higher than his, or Shags, made him grateful the troll, Maedryn, had been friendly. Otherwise he could have been squashed like a bug.
He was pleased, though, with having figured out another mystery of the parchment, of how to search out knowledge with it; that was going to save time in the future, not to mention help make sense of the world.
He gave the stew a bit of a stir as he looked around, starting to make plans. For the moment, camping outside the cave was fine, but ultimately they would have to move into it, to establish themselves there, to put together a place to sleep, to store items, even to cook. They couldn’t do much, yet, but there were still two more camps out there to deal with and they could hopefully provide some more materials.
When he judged the stew ready, he took the pot off the fire and set it aside. There were some crude wooden bowls in the supplies they had found, and he poured some into two of them, while in the third he put some of the dried meat; onions, he knew, were dangerous for dogs, and he expected that it would be the same for wolves so he couldn’t give Shags the stew. Looking off in the direction the other two had disappeared, he gave a sharp, piercing whistle. Then he settled down and waited.
It only took a couple of minutes before Shags came loping back, alongside Yrip. The kobold was saying something to the wolf; it occurred to Chance that any difficulties they had once had with each other seemed to have gone. He wouldn’t describe them as friends, not yet, but they at least were no longer wary of the other. And it had all seemed to start with his misunderstanding about trolls; they had bonded over his humiliation.
“Food is served,” he told them. “I know it isn’t standard wolf fare, but we have to make do with what we have.”
Breaking off a chunk of the flat bread, he dipped it into the stew and begin to eat as the others started in on theirs as well, Yrip using bread as well, and Shags scoffing his down out of the bowl. It had turned out rather well, he had to concede. Nothing too fancy, but wholesome and flavourful. Between them they polished off the whole pot until every last part of it was gone.
A few apples wouldn’t have gone amiss, but he hadn’t brought any back. First chance he got, he was going to stock up on a supply of them.
“Tomorrow we deal with the gnolls,” he told the others. “This afternoon I want to go back to the hills, to see what is going on there. I know it's optional, but if we can figure out what is causing the blight there and cure it, then receiving Qasari’s Blessing may aid us in a big way.”
“Sometimes you say the strangest things, master.”
Chance grinned at Yrip. “Stick around; it's only going to get weirder.”