It took a week to reach Renlen, given the ponderous pace at which the wagons moved on the game trails and the fact that it snowed for two days once the team reached the main road. Three wagons, additional horses, and a group of only four able men plus one teenage girl made for tough work rotations. The broken wheel on one of the wagons on the third day out didn’t help, either.
Once over the Bremervar Hills – a low divide that runs east-west about a day south of Renlen and from the northern slopes of which one can see the distant town on a clear day – the team ran into a few travelers on the road, and passed a few farmsteds that form the southern extent of the greater Renlen area. Exchanging pleasantries and brief news is customary on the road, and one farmer, Murryn Bechtal, recognized Kit and the others and made sure to stop and talk for a bit, sharing the latest from the last few weeks during which the team had been away.
The town was in a state of alarm, and had been for several days, after it was confirmed that two northern farmsteds had been attacked, ravaged, and the families slaughtered. Smoke from the burning buildings, some miles apart, had alerted the town guard, and a combination of Watch members and volunteers found the terrible truth. The only clues were clawed tracks in the snow and several long, rough arrows found in bodies and walls. Scoffers held their tongues now at the stories of the ‘Wolfen’ from the other side of the Sconays, as it seemed the beasts had come south of the mountains in search of more prey.
Upon reaching Renlen and reporting to Dahr Morleigh, the team was relieved of the wagons and supplies, and congratulated by the town’s leader. Again, their deeds would be put into the official chronicle, and Morleigh saw to it that news of what they’d done was made public in order that other residents could offer their thanks and wealthier citizens could reward them, as was the custom. Morleigh was also interested in anything they knew about the Wolfen, as they now seemed an immediate threat, although they’d not attacked anything in the days since their work had been discovered.
The owner of the horses you’ve been using will happily take five of the eight additional ones you have in trade for the four he’d loaned you – his are better animals, and so the imbalance is fair. He’ll then buy the other three from you for a total of 100GP, if you’re interested. Given that it’s winter and business is slow overall, these are fair prices and valuations. The wagons and supplies are turned over to the local government, as is the norm in situations like this. Being entered into the official chronicle is a social honor and can, over time, grease the skids to economic and political favor, as well.
Maerith is a question mark. She’s an interesting girl – a little too glib and wannabee-worldly for her age (16), and a little too much (physically) of a woman than a father would hope her to be. She’s probably gotten herself in trouble for those traits more than once. Your sense is that she really was kidnapped, and then tried to make something of an adventure of it. Two months of doing dishes, scrubbing clothes, and being the camp pump, however, got old really quickly. She’s at something of a crossroad, perhaps, bearing equal measures of shame, a desire for normalcy, and a native wild streak that could either serve her well or be her undoing. What do you do with her?
The revelation about Dahr Anhoffer and his stooges, and the evidence to support it, is another issue. What do you do about this?
The issues of Maerith and Anhoffer are ones that I’d assume you’d discuss and think about as you traveled north to Renlen, and I assume that you’d be subtle about discussing what to do about Maerith if you chose to be that way. The Wolfen attacks, obviously, are news to you upon arrival.