I will put this together.

Agreed.  Blackthorn, you have really stepped it up, and I find myself looking forward to your posts like I do some of the veterans! 

Sorry if it was confusing.  You started in the woods near the village of Crandel - southwest of Daviena castle, near the Sendrian border.  Not southwest of Crandel.

You have been traveling west, towards the Sendrian border.  These woman and her companion have apparently been heading east, further into Ertain - same as the pilgrims.

The gate guard gapes in surprise at Ch'dau's action, and he stammers in response at the golden coin pressed into his hand.  "Er.. yes, yes it will.  Cover them all, I mean." The guard ducks his head.  "My thanks to you, cat man.  May the gods watch over you and yours this night."

The sentry glances back over his shoulder, up on the palisade, and speaks out in a loud voice.  "Let them in, Les."  At his bidding, the gate is unlatched from inside, and swings outward.

As the party begins to move inside, he speaks a final time.  "The Nicked Shill be straight ahead - the only Inn in town.  Ye ought to be able to find a bed there, as well as food an' ale."

*******************************************************

The dirt streets of Crandel are quiet. Many of the buildings and homes are dark, but those with lit lanterns or torches shine with an almost otherworldly light against the sticky fog. As you press forward, you come across one lone, well lit building, and as you come closer, you see a wooden signboard bearing the depiction of a worn, damaged copper coin - the Nicked Shill.

The interior of the inn is well lit, and the atmosphere is fairly bustling, if not truly friendly. Several long tables run most of the length of the common room, with benches lining either side. The tables are by and large occupied by folk in plain garb such as you might see on farmers or laborers, and these locals peer at you with less than hospitable expressions; you could swear that conversation dies down upon your entry.  When the gazes settle on Ch'dau, the voices turn from less friendly to outright hostility; angry murmurs can be heard.

"Maybe you should go get the Watch!" someone announces in a stage whisper to a comrade. 

"Who let a monster in here?" another demands.

Fortunately, that chain of conversation is quelled by a large, burly, bearded man in an apron.  "Ya sorry lot cut that out now, ya hear me?" he bellows in a deep baritone.  "That be no monster - 'es a kazari!  Not only are they a damn sight better warriors than most 'o those what drift through 'ere, but ya can take one at 'is word." 

He points a finger at Ch'dou.  "Ya 'ave coin, cat man?" he asks loudly.  "Are ya 'ere to cause trouble?"

OOC: assuming that the kazari answers in the affirmative and negative, respectively...

"Right, then!" he bellows.  "Nya, get the kazari an' 'is friends sommat ta eat an' drink.  The rest 'o you lot, mind yer own business, or leave - now."  With the admonition, the big man reaches behind the counter and drawns forth a large, heavy cudgel, which he casually leans against.  A hush falls over the room, and it seems that no one will take the big man up on his offer, but after a long moment, two men dressed in the uniform of the town watch stand.  One finishes his ale in a single gulp, the other spits on the ground, and the two leave, muttering and casting dark glances back over their shoulders. 

But that seems to be the end of the drama - for now.  Soon enough, conversation picks back up around the room, though people seem to alternate between outright staring at Ch'dau and the party or pointedly ignoring them.

Soon, a young, befreckled brunette maid greets you warmly enough, and directs you to one of the few open spots - which is in a corner table unoccupied by locals. "Welcome to our inn, travelers," she speaks in an accent very similar to the gate guard's. "Special tonight is pork stew with peppers; we may still have some potatoes. We 'ave strong ale an' small beer," and with a measured glance at the sylvari, "an' I may be able to scare up some fall wine; mayhap there's some left. We've got good bread and cheese, but it's too early in the season for much in the way of fruits."

After taking your orders, she leaves.

There are two occupants at the end of your table; both are humans in travelers' garb. One is a tall, stubble-faced, sinewy man dressed in leather armor and a brown cloak, wearing a sword at his belt. He sits easily, though you notice his eyes periodically sweep the room.

The other is an attractive blonde woman dressed in form fitting black clothing with a purple cloak. She wears a broad-bladed knife at her belt, as well as some sort of silver pendant at her throat.

The man's eyes narrow at you as you take your seat and his hand subconsciously drifts closer to the handle of his blade, though after a few moments, he gives a curt nod and appears to slightly relax.

The woman, on the other hand, seems to view you with more interest. While she doesn't truly smile, her expression is not unfriendly. Upon closer inspection, you realize that her left cheek bears several silvered scars, one of which begins at the corner of her mouth and ends right next to her blue eye.

The serving wench is reasonably prompt, bringing the food in a timely manner; the fare is simple, but tasty enough. By this point, the locals seem to have grown more or less bored with the novelty of the party, and conversation around the room appears to be in full swing again.

The woman at your table moves as if to speak a greeting; the man seems about to object, but she silences him with a glare. "Well met, fellow travelers," she speaks politely, her accent leaving no doubt that she is no local. "I do not recall seeing you on the road, so I would think that you did not come from the west. Have you any news from the road to the east?"

Nice hashtag, activist. 

I'm going to assume from here that nobody will object to Ch'dau paying the road toll, and that you will all agree to the peace knots (which are a pretty common requirement inside of settlements).  If not, I can edit and we can play that out.  Otherwise, I'm goingto move things along this afternoon.

You are correct.  That pays for everyone and lets him pocket some coin. I can imagine that he will react favorably to that.

Just for frame of reference - this is super common.  Ctitizens of a given area or kingdom will typically pay lower taxes for things like this than will foreigners.  And the gate guard is not speaking out of turn - I am certain that Ch'dau has been utterly prevented entrance at some other towns. 

Do think about it.  We're not talking about modern culture, where the only difference is the color of a foreigner's skin (which can still cause barriers).  We're talking about what looks like a legit monster - in a world where monsters are all too real - walking up and wanting in your town or business.  Given the rarity of kazari in Antaron, it is doubtful that any citizen of this isolated town will have ever seen one.  Considering him a "beast" isn't just them being narrowminded; in most cases, creatures that walk on two legs but are not human, syl, khord, or cid are creatures that want to kill/eat the above species in this world.

The gate guard responds in a very serious tone and bows his head.  "Please forgive me, milord.  I do not mean to offer offense to anyone's honor.  You must understand, milord... I am but a simple watchman from a simple town, 'oo has drawn the short straw for the graveyard shift."

His gaze then locks on that of the sylvari.  "You see, milord, the law 'ere is that all travelers who are citizens of the kingdom must pay the road toll of one falchion, while foreigners must pay two.  Now, milord, a simple man such as miself might miss the fact that milord 'as terribly pointy ears for a subject of King Jarom, might p'raps mistake yon 'alfling for a child traveling with 'is pa.  It is dark after all, with evil weather afoot; if a simple man like miself were to miss those, naught would blink an eye."

His eyes flick towards Ch'dau in gesture.  "But milord, if'n I were to ignore yon 'airy beast, the captain would 'ave me 'ead.  Even a blind man can see the 'e's no citizen 'o the kingdom... not 'o any kingdom I've 'eard of.  Fact is, milord, 'im being charged a road toll is an honor to 'im, an honor for which 'e can think milord and the 'oly men with which 'e travels.  Elsewise, 'e might fine 'isself lookin' at a mess of spear 'eads instead."

Nonplussed, Ch'dau attempts to haggle the price, but the gate guard is having none of it.  With remarkable fortitude - truly, the skinny man barely shakes in the face of the kazari who stands more than foot taller than him - he holds his ground.  "P'raps the offer is good, p'raps it idn't.  But the road toll, cat man, is five falchions.  And truly, the law 'olds that all travelers should peace knot their weapons and unstring any bows.  So the lot 'o ye - tie them up now, quick like.  Pay tha toll, and get in off of this road and out of tha evil night."

Okay.  I will note who ever shared food, coin, etc  

Please note that unlike many games, I base my world's monetary system around silver, not gold.  Furthermore, different countries have their own currencies and exchange rates.  If you care to read about it, there is an article here that details currency in Antaron.

If you don't care to read, just note that a "falchion" is the common silver coin of Ertain.  A road toll of a single silver coin is relatively common. 

Discussions are made, but eventually, it is decided that the road for the pilgrims should be safe enough - especially in light of the obligation of the party mages, and the fact that the Lysorans would only bear escort for so far.

Poultices are applied, wounds are bandaged, food and water are shared.  The starving pilgrims are pathetically grateful for the good that is done for them, though as the two groups diverge - with three of the pilgrims obviously hurting even more than ever before - it does cross Cedric's mind that perhaps it would have been seemly to share the gift of the Radiant Father's healing.  Hopefully, no evil will cross their paths, as even the most optimistic individual must know that this sorry lot could scarce withstand a single kobold.

Nearly two hours later, darkness has fallen on the road, though the sticky mist has not dissipated in the least... and if anything, the odd sounds are more frequent.  Once or twice, the party could swear that the sound of maniacal giggling can be heard nearby, but no further attack is forthcoming.

Suddenly, a wooden palisade seems to materialize directly in front of the companions. A lone guard stands at the gate, lantern at the ready. "Right, then!" he calls, hand nervously clenching a spear. "Who goes there? State your business!"

Once satisfied with the response, he lowers his spear and examines the group. "Fair enough. Ye may enter the town of Crandel, but cause no trouble.  The road toll is a falchion each..." his gaze fixes on Ch'dau and he pauses and murmurs under his breath.  "Sweet Mother Miellyah..."  The guard swallows nervously.

"The road toll for normal folk is a falchion each.  The beast will pay five falchions, and agree to keep 'is blades in peace knots while inside these walls." He grips the spear tighter.  "Do we understand one another?"

Okay.  It seems like the majority are convinced to part ways with the pilgrims.  Is that what I'm hearing?

From what I understand, our healers have bandaged the wounds of the pilgrims as best they can.  Even so, you have three with more serious wounds - the leader has broken ribs, two have major gouges from the giggling monster.  There are bumps and bruises among the group, as well.

I am aware the Gib has no intention of expending healing magic on anyone unless he feels it is a critical need, and only after combat.  Will Cedric expend any spells on the injured pilgrims?

These folk are fairly hungry.  Does anyone intend to share any food (or cast such a spell) for them? 

Or are we taking our leave at this point, wishign them the best on the road, and continuing to Crandel?

In the interest of moving the game along, you guys can discuss whether or not to offer escort here.  We need not carry on an in-character conversation/argument that can take days to resolve.

Cast votes here, hash it out, etc.  But I'd like to move to the next game post as opposed to arguing for days. 

The pilgrim shakes his head.  "The Shine is holy, and the ground is consecrated.  We travel to offer sacrifice and worship.  Outsiders may not enter the grove itself.  We could have you walk with us a portion, but you could not go all the way."

The bearded pilgrim shakes his head at the bladesinger's query.  "We did not enter the town itself.  We lack the coin to pay the road toll, let alone for an Inn; also, our journey is pressing, so we did not tarry."

He continues.  "The palisade itself was strong, though, and the guards at the gate seemed unworried.  Brother Keldwin bought plums from a cart near the gate; if the town were besieged, I would not think that the vendor would be hawking fruit outside the walls. No, I do not think the evil from the road had entered the town."

Rather than go round and round in the game thread, let me clarify a few things:

* The party has expected to reach Crandel by nightfall.  Even allowing that the pilgrims are much slower than the adventurers, there is no way that they have endured these attacks for four nights between here and the town.  This would mean that the attacks had to have started west of Crandel.

* The pilgrim leader will agree to the above - they have walked the same road in the opposite direction, yes, but their starting point was well to the west of the town, their journey is much farther than four total days.  These are country folk, not surviviors of the town.  That isn't to say that the town is not in jeapordy, but that they didn't come from it. 

* The pilgrim leader has provided information that the road is no safer near the town, which is presumably patrolled.  If it matters, you have not seen any issues on the road farther to the east, which did appear to be as safe as wilderness roads ever are.

* Just an FYI - while Lysoran temples and shrines are typically open to all, a group on a pilgrimage to an isolated shrine may not want an escort may only be allowed to let non-worshippers so close to the shrine.

Haha, fun reading indeed!

Two of the party member - Midge and Atharis - are supposed to be meeting with a contact from the Secret Storm (the order they belong to).  They have both been instructed to make all possible haste. 

Does that preclude you from taking a week's diversion?  That's your call.

Addressing the pilgrim leader, Aranwen asks "How long has it been since these fiends first started attacking? Have you any idea where they may have come from or what could have provoked these attacks? Perhaps something strange occurred just before the attacks started?"

The bearded man blinks three times, his gaze unfocused.  He takes so longer to asnwer that the bladesinger begins to worry that he has perhaps lost conciousness, yet remained on his feet.  But answer he does, in a choked voice. 

"We have endured this for four nights, now.  Once, twice a night.  They come, they kill, they take." A sob escapes his gaunt frame. 

"What provoked this, I cannot say.  We had hoped that reaching Crandel would end this, but it seems as bad here as it did on the road to the west."

The pilgrim leader is shaking with emotion.  "We are simple folk!  We seek only to honor the Blue Lady!  We have harmed no one, taken nothing, done nothing unsuual at all!  We stick to the road, camp at night, eat the food we brought with us.  Why would these monsters trouble our path?"

Another sob escapes him.  "You will excuse us now, please.  We thank you for your aid, truly.  But we must pray over our fallen.. and Lysora forgive us, we must leave them.  We have not the strength to dig holes or gather stones, and hve learned the cruelty of or enemy - if we tarry to dig, we may as well lie down in the holes with them, for our doom is sealed.  We will not survive another attack.  Our only chance is to get as close to the Shrine as we can, and hope that their attention is diverted for long enough for us to escape their notice."

He moved away from the party, and the survivin pilgrims move to pray over their dead comrades.

I fully concur.  Blackthorn, that post was excellent.  Way to step it up!

I posted a small update, just to give the pilgrims' answer to Gib's query.  No point to add a day or two on to the decision making process.

After the battle ends, Gib seeks out the leader of the pilgrims.  The bearded man is staggering; if you had to hazard a guess, you would suspect that he has at least a couple of broken ribs.  He fares better than several of his companiions, however - two own deep gouges in their flesh, thanks to the claws of the giggling monstrosity, and three more lie dead.  Only a half dozen pilgrims still live... if one could call their half-starved, shambling existence "life".

 "How far is it to your destination," the claric of Therassor asks, "and will you truly be safe there?" 

The bearded pilgrim shakes his head.  "The Shrine is perhaps three days' journey from here.  Will we be safe?  Only the gods can say.  This is good country, the roads under King Jarom's rule have always been safe.  But in these times?  Who can say?  The road ahead must be safer than the road behind us.  All we can do is have faith... and keep moving."

The fixed gazes of the three bodies on the ground stare into the dusky sky and mock the simplicity of the holy man's words.

Ch'dau will be fine, the paralysis is temporary.

Health:
Ch'dau - minor wounds
Aranwen - minor wound
Gib - moderate wound
Kithran - minor wound
Midge - unwounded
Cedric - unwounded
Atharis - unwounded

Stiffened?  That sounds a little... rude, man. 

How did you know?  I'd call the tiger man a priority target in any fight.  That critter isn't stupid.