Using lengths of wood he had scavenged from some of the lean-tos, as well as bits of cloth and lengths of rope, Chance fashioned together a travois for Shags to pull. He didn't exactly know how he knew to make it, or even what he was making at first; it was sort of like remembering how to do something after the fact, tapping into the memories of Craghand. The affinity to crafting he had for being a dwarf probably played into it as well, even if it was at a basic level. No building of houses or bridges yet, but the simple crafting tasks seemed at his level of ability.
This is most undignified, Shags mindspoke to Chance as he tightened ropes to secure it all firmly together. I am a wolf, not a horse.
We all have to carry our weight.
It looks like I will be carrying more than my fair share.
“Do you think Shaggy Death will let me have a ride?” Yrip asked.
Shags bare his fangs and half growled.
“I’d take that as a no,” Chance remarked dryly.
On the travois, Chance began to load up the various supplies they had collected to take with them; a box with the tools, some more lengths of wood and the various furs and hides. So that Shags didn’t feel like he was doing all the work, Chance gave Yrip a bundle of cloth to carry, while he carried a box that had the food that they had found. They were leaving behind a few things that Chance couldn’t see a use for, or that were too broken to be of use, as well as the refuse that the goblins had let build up. At some point he would have to work out a means of disposing it, as it was a bit of an eyesore, the mess. Plus, he suspected that as a druid it was kind of expected of him. He could just burn it all, but with the numerous dead trees around, there was always the risk that the fire could get out of hand and the last thing he wanted was a raging bushfire.
They set out to the southeast, headed along the path that led from the camp; there was no real way that they could get back over the hills the way that they had come, not with the load that Shags was pulling, so the slow path it had to be, the long way around.
A low grumbling could be sensed from Shags as they walked, not any real words just more of a sense of annoyance from the wolf that came into his mind. It really was asking a lot from him, and Chance knew that he would have to make it up to him at some point, somehow.
Walking along the path, they could see ahead of them, off to the left of the path, a low area of swampy water, a pond thick with reeds, from which they could hear the croak of frogs. Numerous water birds flew around it, the names of which Chance didn’t know, not until he looked and focused on them, resulting in the mind message announcing them. No doubt there was a codex somewhere in the parchment he could access that was listing all the discoveries that he was making. Through a bit of trial and error, he found out that he could control the messages, more or less. A quick glance at an object wasn't enough to trigger it; that required a longer, focused look at it.
A soft buzz of insects came to them as they reached the swamp, with dragonflies, gnats and others hovering above the surface of the stagnant water.
Passing by the swamp, they came to a simple wooden bridge over the stream that ran out of the cave of Azval Stalvaq.
“There better not be a troll under there,” Chance joked.
The other two turned to look at him with curious expressions on their faces.
“A troll, master?”
Trolls don’t live under bridges, Shags told him.
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Chance sighed. “Forget it. It was a joke.”
“I don’t understand, master,” Yrip said, frowning. “Why would you make a joke about trolls living under a bridge?”
“Look, where I come from there is a story about a troll living under a bridge that wanted to eat goats that walked across it.”
“That makes no sense. Trolls don’t eat goats, unless it was a stone goat.”
“Okay, okay, let's all move on.”
I could do more to know about these trolls.
Oh shush, you.
Aware of a certain sniggering going on behind him, Chance stomped onto the bridge and crossed the stream; nothing emerged from beneath it. The trail they had been following joined the main path that led back to the cave, following the banks of the stream, but also continued on the other side, between the woods and another, larger swamp, leading off to where the kobolds were meant to be camped.
The main path ran between the new swamp and the stream, and from where he stood Chance could see across the reeds to an island in the centre of it. There was an old square tower on the island, and a number of broken walls around it, the ruins that he had spotted on the map which he meant to check out at some stage.
Turning back towards the bridge, he could see Yrip and Shags crossing together, the kobold whispering something to the wolf who seemed to be laughing. He glared at the two of them.
“I don’t want to hear another word about….” he started to say.
Troll.
“Yes, about them.”
“No, master, an actual troll.” The first thought that came to Chance was that Shags must also be speaking to Yrip via the mindspeech as well. Only then did what they had said actual sink in.
He turned about to see something emerging out of the waters of the swamp.
It was quite large, twice his height at least, and very bulky but he couldn’t make out too many details as it was covered in moss and bits of reed that clung to it while water dripped from it. It stumped up out of the water, standing in the centre of the path they wanted to follow.
“Should I be worried?”
“Hah, master can handle trolls.”
Yrip’s overconfidence in him wasn’t going to get him any real answers and there wasn’t really time to consult the parchment to get any proper information on what the troll was and could do. Besides squash him flat by the look of it. It was in the way though, which meant they had to get by it if they were going to make it back to their camp. There was nothing for it but to confront it.
Chance walked forward, a little bit apprehensive. “Um, good morning,” he said.
The troll turned to look at him, and now that he was close, Chance could see that it had a very stony appearance, in some manner as if it had been hewn roughly out of the ground, like some form of primitive statue. For eyes it had what looked two chunks of jade, bright green in appearance. The eyes fixed on him.
“Pon my word,” said the troll in a voice far too refined to be believed, “Tis odd company you keep, good fellow.”
He became aware of laughter from behind him, turning to see Yrip rolling around on the ground; Shags would have been too if it hadn’t been attached to the travois.
“Very funny,” he told them. “I apologise for these two jokers,” he said to the troll.
“Dear me, no need to apologise my good dwarf; laughter after all is at the heart of the civilised experience. Allow me to introduce myself; Elder Maedryn Jadeheart at your service.”
“Chance,” Chance replied. “Chance Craghand.”
The troll extended a giant, wet hand towards, him, taking Chance’s hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “Honoured to meet you, my dear fellow,” he said. “Craghand? Not of the Khezed Qarvor Craghands by any chance are you?”
“Um,” Chance responded, having no idea of anything of that nature.
The troll brushed it aside. “Tis of little importance. My apologies but I must be continuing on - it is all too bright out at the moment, what with the sun and all. If you will excuse me, my good dwarf; you must come and have tea soon, you and your companions, and we can converse at greater length. A good day to you all.”
With that Maedryn ambled off, crossing the stream and plunging into the trees on the other side. Chance watched him go in a state of bemused puzzlement. Then he turned to the other two, to find them still laughing which, from a wolf at least, was a very odd thing to behold.
“Okay, get it out of your system. Now explain to me what just happened?”
Trolls are, well, lorekeepers. Ancient beings who collect knowledge. A bit strange at times, but decent folk.
I’ll never get used to this place. Chance sighed. “Lets get going. This day has been weird enough already and I’d rather no more oddities surprise me.”