So, as we're trudging back, John's finally spilling the beans about what happened back at the boat. Turns out those thugs were looking for us. They beat and killed a bunch of the poor sailors just because no one knew where we'd buggered off to. Then they wrecked the boat and, just for good measure, set it on fire. Guess they tied John to a tree 'cause he was the only one who actually talked. Can't blame him, honestly.
As we're walking along the road, I spot some shifty-looking character in the distance. He sees us and immediately tries to play it off, hunching his back, leaning on a staff, pulling his hood up. Trying to look like some poor, sick old man. Then John hears him fake a horrible cough and, bless his naive heart, starts asking if we should help him.
I try to explain, as patiently as I can, that the man is clearly putting on a show, trying to con us out of money. I give John a coin and tell him if he's so desperate to help this faker, he can use that. John winds up to toss it... and throws it so badly it probably landed closer to Avendale than the con artist.
While we're walking and talking about the whole boat debacle and who these thugs are, Rip suddenly veers off the road. He starts picking stuff up. Turns out he's found a trail of gold pieces leading into the forest. Of course. Next thing I know, Rip's arm is stuck in a bush, and a couple of scrawny goblins come screaming out of the trees. The instant they see the rest of us, they turn tail and run back into the woods, immediately starting to pelt Rip with rocks. He's screaming at them to stop, that it's his gold, but they just keep assaulting him from a distance. Idiot.
Luis, surprisingly, manages to intimidate them into moving further into the forest, while Bob and I yank Rip free. He's fine, just tangled in some stupid noose-trap. He actually wanted to keep going after the gold, but we finally talk some sense into him and continue our walk.
Not much happening on the road. We see the occasional person heading towards Gralton, but not many other travelers. After a while, we stumble upon a small farm. An old woman spots us and starts yelling for our attention. Bob, ever the charmer, goes over to talk to her. Turns out her husband's sick, and she's desperate for help figuring out what's wrong with him.
Bob, surprisingly, actually has some idea what's bothering him and even knows of a plant nearby that might help. He shows her what it is and tells her to make sure her husband eats some every day. As payment, the old man (her husband, I guess, or just an old man) gives us each one of his handmade straw hats. Great. Just what I needed.
In the afternoon, we come across a group of three guys – one leading, and two guards flanking him. And wouldn't you know it, it's the snake-man who assaulted John and was involved in burning the ship. He says they're looking for some "7-foot-tall human with blonde flowing hair and a voice like silk" who stole a piece from them. Sent to retrieve it, he says. Just about then, this huge, muscular creature in armor comes stomping out of the woods, saying he found a camp and picked up the scent of whoever they're looking for.
Rip, in his infinite wisdom, keeps insisting it's him they're after. I just don't see it. The person they described sounds like some legendary, renowned warrior – not some rundown, middle-aged never-was like Rip.
As evening approaches and we're trying to find a spot to camp, we see a circle of people in white cloaks in the distance, singing and chanting. As we get closer, we can actually hear them chanting about the one "who waddles." And then, as the circle opens up, we hear a quack. And there he is, that sneaky, feathered bastard.
The duck.
Upon seeing us, the duck grabs his little pack and flies off – much to the dismay of, apparently, his followers. Their leader, I assume, claims the duck is some kind of earthly embodiment of a duck-deity. You can't make this stuff up.
After a bit of proselytizing, they offer to let us stay in their compound for the evening. Turns out it's just a camp surrounded by a ring of duck feathers. They've got this massive nest built around a fire, which looks like their communal area. They have separate sleeping areas with hay beds, and some kind of temple, or whatever.
The, I'm assuming, elder of this commune invites Bob to come sit and listen to "tales of the duck." Apparently, they think Bob has been "chosen" because the duck made him chop off his pinky finger. Bob goes. Rip, of course, follows along like a lost puppy.
When they come back, they both seem to have completely bought into this ridiculous cult. Some of the quotes Rip's spouting actually sound exactly like him, which is disturbing. And they're both clearly under some kind of influence. They just go on and on about the "majesty" and "holiness" of this duck. And they both have these duck feathers on necklaces that they insist emit the sound of a breeze and soothing duck noises. I asked Rip to let me listen to his. It. Does. Not.
We gather our gear and get ready to leave in the morning. And then John walks in, wearing one of those stupid white robes, just like the other members of this so-called church of the duck. Seems John's really taken to this new religion. Meanwhile, Rip and Bob are still babbling about taking out some geese in the name of the duck. Great.
As we're traveling, we have to step off the road to avoid some fast-moving carriages going side by side. Turns out there are six carriages in total – and the Viscount riding in one of them seems to know this duck! He says the duck is some kind of military tactician who led a counter-attack and saved the kingdom. I find that extremely hard to believe. It had to have been a series of bizarre coincidences, I swear.
Regardless, whatever happened, this Viscount offers us a ride up to the crossing to Avondale, which will save us a ton of walking. And, more importantly, it'll get us away from these goons who may or may not be looking for Rip.
This duck is still a menace, though. I don't care what anyone says.