HEARTSTONE TROLLMARKET ※ CAMP

[wildestmods]

HEARTSTONE TROLLMARKET

The Nightrenders and the Sisters stop following their prey once they get some distance into the woods. The protective aura coming from the shelter up north is full of deep protective magic.

It is a strange place. It looks like a massive cavern underground was somehow thrust up through earth and stone, until the roof and one wall cracked and fell in many places, creating a sort of canyon with rounded inner walls. If they look up they'll see a starry band of the night sky through the cracked roof. The rocks clearly crushed some houses and businesses but seem to have finally settled, so it's safe to wander around.

The way the ceiling opened was a source of far more tragedy than the falling rocks, though. When day breaks, they'll see the band of sunlight that cut through this community. Scattered through this band of light are large figures wrapped in sheets and blankets, tied in place with pieces of bright cloth. Little trinkets lay scattered at their feet. If anyone takes one of the blankets off, they'll see the petrified figure of a troll, their stone face forever etched in fear and surprise. It's clear from the cloth coverings and the trinkets that this is a people that cared for their dead, and that had community and family life. Among some of the trinkets are the drawings of children and dolls left for their lost loved one.

Market stalls have been ransacked, house doors are open, with larders of whatever this people ate empty, like the people here left very suddenly. Perhaps they felt the need to leave because of their sudden exposure - their community not thrust on the surface, the walls and ceiling holding back the sun crumbling.

Or perhaps the were nervous because of what was happening to the great crystal at the center of their world: the Heartstone. This great glowing crystal that got folded into the Wilderlands, was the nexus of magical energy of a world, its lifeblood, the beating heart of all magic. It sustained and protected the trolls.

It is cracked and dying. Dimming to a deeper color, occasionally flickering in a way that shows that someday it will dim completely. But not tonight. Tonight its nourishing, protective magic will keep the monsters away and give them some light in the dark. Even without the torches of the trolls, the Heartstone's light causes gems and crystals in the cavern - now a canyon - to glimmer with its protective light.

OOC DETAILS
❧ Quest magic: Players can handwave that the quest bond magic ultimately tugged the group to the Heartstone, eventually teleporting any stragglers to it. Once the group is gathered there, no one can go far without getting teleported back.

❧ Time Period: The mods will set up a top-level for the night they all arrived, and a top-level for players to post their ongoing threads set over the ensuing days. Unless the group decides to leave faster, they will likely stay there for several IC days. (And the mods will probably allow this rest stop to run 1-2 OOC weeks, but will touch base with the playerbase on their preferences.)

❧ NPCing: No npcs are left in Trollmarket - the trolls have abandoned their now unsafe home. However, gnomes can be found wandering the canyon. The gnomes seem sentient, as they clearly speak a squeaky language that just can't be translated, but they're near feral, once the pests of the trolls. They're small, extremely fast, massively strong for their tiny sizes, and love to steal the belongings of bigger people. Groups of them sometimes gang up to carry larger items. They're also aggressive: prone to biting with their pointy teeth, and taking off their pointy caps and leaping at people to stab them with the pointy horns on the tops of their heads.

❧ Supplies: There is no human food in Trollmarket and the remains of any stalls advertising food make that clear. The trollish writing on the signs is translated by translation magic to Sylvaen, the language they've all gained knowledge of. Apparently the trolls liked to eat rocks and various minerals, socks stolen from humans, and cats. Fortunately, the cages from the stalls advertising the last one are empty, and the feral cat colony around Trollmarket makes it clear they weren't taken as emergency rations. (Occasionally there is a great racket as the gnomes and cats go to war.) However, there are resources like course cloth, woolen blankets, and sewing and cobbling materials. There are also leather goods like satchels, packs, and belts. There is rope. And waxy paper that can be used to wrap food supplies.

❧ Weapons: There are weapons that can be found in places, but not many. The trolls were not a peaceful people but they settled most of their problems with simple, non-fatal brawling, rather than anything crueler, only fighting against outside attackers. The few weapons that can be found are very large and heavy, clearly meant for war. They're built for a people that averages 8-10 feet tall and only the strongest and largest among the squad will find them anything but unwieldy. However, there are a few "small" knives of crude metal that can be used as short swords, and metal shields probably used as bucklers, that would work as full shields for normal-sized people.

❧ Forest resources: The woods around Trollmarket are safe, especially if traversed during the day. They're full of potential food, for those that know what to look for. There are wild blueberries, raspberries, and huckleberries, and enough flat, dark rocks to dry fruit in the sun. At the edge of a nearby pond are cattails, with edible roots, and reeds and grasses that can be used for basket-making. Dandelions grow everywhere, with edible flowers and roots, and there are edible marigold flowers. There's ample firewood, pieces of flint (though it takes time to find them), and wild game like deer and rabbits. The trolls' cookware, cutlery, and knives can be used to cook and dress animals, but might be heavy to take along. Water can be found in the pond (though it'd need boiling), or in small, cleaner springs in the woods.

❧ Spells: Archivists will find that there are little springs in the woods that they can draw spells from. The mods will make up random spells for Archivist players that request one.

Comments

[okayimin]

She nods approvingly. Usually it takes a little more bothering before she can get a usefully large person to actually be useful.

"Down by the stream, this way." And she sets off at a (for her) quick stride. She'll be easy to keep track of at least. She hasn't had a proper washing yet, but there's no hiding the brilliant red of her habit in the forest growth. "And you can skip that "ma'am" business. It's Sister Sara, though I don't reckon we're near anywhere that'd recognize me as such. Here we are."

By the stream, Sawbones has a little pit dug out and wood placed for a fire, a bucket to one side, a large pile of course fabrics in various states and a smaller pile of mismatched socks. She points to the cold fire, "Set it there. And what should I call you?"

[prettycoolguy]

He follows in absolute bewilderment. There are questions he needs to formulate, and it's hard to do while being directed about by someone who's both very busy and extremely confident that he is now firmly involved in the business.

He places the huge pot where directed.

"...Call me Master Chief."

He barely swallows the reflex to call her ma'am again. It's an incredibly weird combination of words to anyone that doesn't know it's a military rank, but it does come out of his mouth with all the certainty of a name.

"I need to know if I can make contact with any UNSC personnel here," he says, hoping against hope that the answer is yes. Then a second thought jumps in alongside that one: "Can you tell me the date?"

He has no idea where he is or when he is. He's not frozen anymore, and any amount of time could have passed between the battle of the Ark and now.

[okayimin]

She'd take him for a templar if he had armor on. The title is absolutely strange, though not fully unexpected. She still gives him a slight brow raise and a once over. He's being helpful, so she won't give him grief for it.

"Have you tried the mirror?" she asks, "I don't know who all is here, to tell it true. It's a blasted mess, as near as I can tell everyone is scrambling to get as much gathered as they can before winter hits or something shows up to try and kill us." She grimaces, "And I don't know the date. It was 9:48 Dragon, but I don't imagine that means much to you."

[prettycoolguy]

John is stoic, his expression very flat because when you're not sure what you're supposed to project, it's easiest to just project nothing. The hint of nerves is more in the straightness of his back and shoulders. He has not tried the mirror, and is going to say so when he is blindsided with a truly bizarre piece of data.

"...AM or PM?"

9:48 is not a date, 9:48 is a time, and the fact that dragons are trying to figure into this somehow is very concerning.

He doesn't even have a mission clock, like an animal.

[okayimin]

Yeah, she has no idea what either of those things are. Sawbones shakes her head, sits down on the creek bank and starts taking off her shoes and stockings.

"I told you," she said, "In long form, it was the forty-eight year of the ninth age, which is the age of Dragons." She sets her shoes and stockings aside and picks up the bucket, padding into the stream to fill it. "And it don't matter what year it was anyhow. This isn't Thedas. Or wherever you expected to be."

[prettycoolguy]

"...Thank you."

John politely gets a grip on the realization that he is not anywhere remotely near a place that has ever heard of Kansas.

It's possible this is a local calendar. A voluntarily isolated population? But the Ark is outside the Milky Way. There's no chance he's randomly drifted to an isolated colony from there, the odds of that are even longer than the odds of him being rescued at all.

He swallows.

"I don't suppose you heard voices, then woke up in this place?"

He was really, really hoping it was just something medical on his end. He's a Spartan. That happens sometimes.

[okayimin]

While he grapples with that, Sawbones keeps herself busy with trips from the stream to her pot. It's not particularly interesting work to fill a cauldron with water, so it's almost pleasant to have someone there to ask strange questions.

She snorts, almost a laugh and pauses long enough to look up at him, "It's consistent then. Yes, I did. Got me right in the middle of a blasted surgery tent. Thought I was dreaming of all things, but as far as I can tell, this is real." She gestures to a large stone and goes back to her work, "You might as well sit down. You're a bit too large for me to do much if you fall over and break your nose."

[prettycoolguy]

Okay, he'll sit down. Now the weirdness of the situation is compounded by the weirdness of sitting while someone else does work. Instant regret.

"How many of us are there?" he asks, because he supposes that hallucination and teleportation is enough to create an "us."

[okayimin]

"I haven't gotten a full count," Sawbones says, puttering along regardless of his discomfort, "Maybe less than 30? I only just got here myself and from the sounds of it none of us know what's happening. Driving me straight to the pit, to tell true. I'm not used to not having a better headcount, but near as I can tell no one's been seriously hurt so far."

She knows there'll be injuries later. There always are. The cauldron filled to her satisfaction, she plops down on the ground as well, pulling flint and tinder from her habit pockets to light the fire under it.

"You look like a fighter. Who's stitched you before, duster." He's got some ugly scars, even from the little she can see of his skin.

[prettycoolguy]

"I'm a soldier," the Chief replies. "I've had a lot of doctors."

Doctoring Spartans is something of a secret art: there's the importance of patching them up weighed against the danger of having someone notice something's off. As the war raged, the former took precedence more and more often.

"I'm alright."

It's reflexive at this point. He's carrying injuries under that bodysuit, he's good at compensating for them but there was observable evidence he's in pain when he dragged that cauldron over here.

Nobody needs to care about them. He's fine. It's fine.

[okayimin]

The look she gives him is entirely unimpressed. Things really didn’t change, from the Deep Roads to the Orlesian front to where ever they were now.

“Well soldier, we ain’t on the front right now,” she says getting up and moving to stand in front of him. They’re almost eye level with him seated. “There ain’t a single reason for you to be wandering around banged up. Let me have a look at you.”

She’s had this conversation enough times, with enough people, that she knows it could go a few different ways. But she’s obstinate. Too many near misses and far, far too many dead to risk letting someone walk off hurting.

[prettycoolguy]

He actually stands up. It's not a threatening motion, it's an oh-god-uh-actually-maybe-I-should-leave one.

"Unnecessary," he says, voice tight. "I'm operating within acceptable limits."

[okayimin]

That gets her to back off a few steps, the ingrained wariness of someone who's been struck at too many times not to expect it. When he doesn't try, she steps forward again.

"No," Sawbones says, "You need to understand, duster, we're in Deep Roads bad right now. We got no supplies, no guaranteed safety and something out there-" She gestures to the broader forest, "Has already tried to kill this crew once. That means every resource counts extra, especially lives. That means every nick and scratch on one of the fighters is another minute less you'll be on your feet, keeping whatever comes at us off the healers who're trying to keep folk from bleeding out. I don't waste lives, duster, and I sure as shit am not about to start with yours."

The cavernous shadows of the Deep Roads hang over her, compounded by the screams of the dying on the Orlesian fields. She points to the spot he abandoned. "Sit down."

[prettycoolguy]

He bristles. John's uncomfortable enough with someone wanting to examine him as it is, but the implication he's being negligent is what really stings.

"No."

He turns.

"I'm going to find out more about what's happening here."

[okayimin]

"As you please then," she snaps, bristling herself, "At least use the blasted mirror, it's the fastest way to contact the whole of us."

There's an impulse to stop him, but better sense and long experience keeps her from it. Still, she doesn't like letting someone hurt wonder off like that. So she takes a little pouch, stuffed with bandages and poultices, out of her pocket and chucks it at him.

"And if you're going to sulk, at least mend yourself!"