"Cantrip?" Sparks asks. The funny sounding word seeming somehow familiar, as if she'd read it somewhere before, but... "Oh!" Sparks exclaims as the context pops into place, "A simple spell you can use often? Like an Orison? It is still early yet. Can you not try and prepare this other cantrip spell instead?"
"Yes, like an Orison. And no, I can't prepare it unless we all agree to camp here another nine hours."
Sparks nods in understanding. "If I had not been so distracted last night I could have mentioned the possibility of fumes. Told a "fun" story about them, even. My apologies."
Acting on his suggestion, the little gnome looks around the forest floor near the cave for any vines that could be twisted into twine, or broad, flat leaves with soft undersides.
But he does not search for too long when nothing readily presents itself. Umros trundles into the cave mouth, and where the daylight dims, he reaches back to the solid cannister for maps and pops it open. White light beams out from the tube, and his small hand pulls out a short wooden handle. The pale light glows steady at the end of his everburning torch, as he holds it up and sees that little has changed from the night before.
He looks back to those still outside the cave. “Shall we? This boy James isn't going to find himself...” With playful gleam in his grey eyes he steps deeper into the cave.
The wanderer makes his way down the tunnel to the left, keeping an eye out for the pile of pebbles left by the huntress.
Unsure of the usefulness of her bow in such tight quarters with so many around her, Sparks, for once, leaves it hanging on her pack and instead follows Umros and the others into the cave.
Tainesh Ludor shoulders her crossbow and stays close to Sparks. "Poison vapors remind me of the story of Solush. He... well, he was a horrible person, no doubt about that, but his methods did end a dark age of magical innovation."
Cath dons his armor while the others finish preparations. When everyone starts moving into the caves, the fighter moves to the front of the group, sword and shield at the ready. “It’s gonna get dark in here quick if that light of yours goes out… Have more?” he asks.
The old traveler’s ears perk at the mention of a story he hadn’t heard before. He is about to say something when Cath asks for more light. He chuckles. “This won’t go out, good sir. Nor will it burn!” he touches the pale light to his hat to prove his point. “Best purchase I ever made, for going into dark places.” Umros holds the torch in front of him, in his shield hand. He continues deeper into the cave.
“And speaking of, I haven’t heard that tale before, Tainesh. Care to help pass the time?”
Sword and shield at the forefront the group begins to pick it's careful way into the shadowy caverns. Quickly passing by the slain wolf they turn left down the side passage that descends further into the darkness. Time passes and the small party eventually comes upon the Elven archers marking-stones. They appear to be undisturbed from the night before.
Moving further into the cave the group can hear the soft plink-plink sound of water dripping somewhere in the convoluted tunnels. The air down here is close and cool, smelling of earth and water and just a hint of rot. The accomplished spelunkers in the group know this to be a good and normal smell for a cave such as this.
After leaving the main chamber behind, there has been no other bear sign, but just as you all round one more corner, Cath spots a point where the tunnel forks...
Still, fortune favors the observant, and neither one of them thought they should fully lower their guard in such a place. After all, the sign outside had said it was un-mapped territory, and as such was an un-known quantity.
As the group turned the corner behind Cath, both pairs of sharp eyes easily spot the small markings denoting recent activity in the northernmost of the two tunnel branches. What kind of activity neither is yet certain of. But that path had certainly seen some sort of use than the other as of late.
Umros is careful to remember every turn they make, committing it to memory to record it later for future travelers. When he notices the pause at the fork in the rocky passage, he points straight ahead, to the northerly direction. The scuffs on the stone in that corridor denote something, but he isn’t sure what exactly. More of a hunch than a clue, really.
“That way looks ...less lonely,” he suggests to the group, as he inches forward and peeks down the other passage along the way.
Cath stops at the fork and takes in the scene, looking for anything of note.
Sparks follows the others down into the tunnel, mainly trying to keep watch to their rear.
"It's a bit dark back here. I do not suppose one of you magic types could light up my bow again?" she asks.
At Umros's bidding, Tainesh launches into the story, somewhat oblivious to the difficulties the others are having in exploring the cave.
"A long time ago, there was a civil war. Well, first there was a war, and then a famine, and then a civil war. A church came into power, and they viewed arcane magic as nigh-heretical. 'Power should come from the gods,' they said. Arcane research was forbidden. Then it was forgotten. Wizards came to believe that new spells came from gods or demons, or were found in long-forgotten tomes."
"There was a necromancer, Solush the Loveless, who was hunted down and put to death by the church. The only thing noteworthy about him was that he had many, many books of magic when the most elderly of wizards accumulated two or three. And he wasn't much of a necromancer. Solush killed a whole village in the cruelest way before the church caught up with him, but he could not raise a single corpse in his defense."
The wizard pauses her story as they pass the wolf, willing light into her hand for a better look. It's... not pretty. The cave was home to all sorts of life, and the dead wolf was a beacon for insects and vermin of all kinds. It looked as if the critter was scheduled to be picked clean down to the bone within a fortnight. She picks up the pace and stays close to Sparks, Lighting up her bow at the Elf's request.
"Here the historical record grows patchy," she continues with a quaky voice. "But some other wizards took a, er, scholarly interest in Solush's work. It seems that he killed the villagers one by one with a spell that made poison gas bubble up in their lungs. But what caught their attention was the fact that each victim, on average, lived longer than the last. Solush was slowly modifying the spell so that it lasted longer and produced breathable air. He didn't know how arcane spells really functioned, so he accomplished it by trial and error and a lot of dead people."
"It's horrifying to think about, but Solush stumbled upon a pair of important ideas: Spells can be understood, and mortal men could create new ones. Wizards remembered that spells were assemblies of vocables, fermatas, graphemes and more, which can be combined with infinite variety."
Tainesh abruptly falls silent, embarrassed that something so beautiful, so powerful, could have come from the work of someone so wicked. Magic was wonderful and awesome in the old definitions, but it felt as if her praise excused Solush's cruelty. She told herself that it was stupid. Magical theory had continued outside that lost kingdom, and someone else would doubtlessly have rediscovered the ancient principles if Solush had sworn off magic as a lad and joined a monastery.
"...but you did not learn through killing though, right?" Sparks asks, her voice expectantly hopeful.
"Frogs, mostly. A few rats, but most of them survived. The fundamentals of magic are too well-understood to justify experimenting on sapients, unless the caster is some sort of sadist."
"I..." Sparks begins to say even as images of a youngish Tainesh retrieving frogs from some pond then later lining them up on some workbench before using magic on them, splattering them and squishing them and inflating them until they burst. "That is... understandable..." she says, trying to keep her voice even and nonjudgmental even as her stomach turned at the idea of doing harm even in the service of knowledge.
The little wanderer listens carefully to the tale of Solush the Loveless. Disregard for life and safety in the name of progress was not unheard of among the community of gnomish alchemists, but it was never on the scale of killing entire towns. While the reason made sense to the old gnome, he knew such ambition must be matched with good will to avoid treading a dark path. The devout among alchemists, Umros among them, always prepared a simple spell that alerted experimenters to accidental poison-brewing while in the lab. It did not prevent explosive or corrosive mishaps, but certainly helped when working on an ingestive. He smiles to himself, recalling a time he tried to brew antitoxin, and thought he could strengthen it by adding a honey bee’s royal jelly. Well, now I know what to do if I ever need to see everything in shades of yellow for a full day…
Umros raises his overlong eyebrows at the thought of learning and inventing spells. He never really needed to study magical words or phrases, practice gestures or memorize material components. The best way he could describe his use of magic would either be through Desna’s blessing, or trusting his instincts in the moment. Though sometimes those intuitions didn’t always work out, as the gnome recalls the failed spell against the bear the day before. Proper schooling probably would tell me why the dazing spell didn’t work…
“Fascinating! Though I wonder, did Solush call himself a necromancer, or did the church?” he lets the question hang as food for thought as he looks over the cavern walls.
"Does anyone voluntarily call themselves a necromancer? I probably would not, even if I was able to... eww... raise the dead," Sparks muses.
"Necromancy isn't solely concerned with raising the dead, but I'd be wary of anyone who calls himself a necromancer," Tainesh says. "The only person who would adopt that title is a mage who embraces all the fear and loathing it inspires."
"I don't know if Solush himself took up the title, but it's a very good question. He was willing to kill a village to develop a spell that would let him breathe underwater, so I doubt a mere title would have troubled his conscience."
He's gnot certain, but the traveling Gnome sees something he thinks is a tiny amount of blood on the ground.
If they were struggling, it would be easy to leave marks like the ones found on the floor of the cavern. This idea is further supported by tiny spatters of blood, red like that of an Elf, Man, or Dwarf, in the dirt and on the stone. Lastly the fighter from Dutos spots a small scrap of torn cloth. Roughspun, like that worn by many of the lower classes all the way from Dutos to Allendale.
"This Soul-ish business is fascinating and all, but it looks like someone's been dragged through this tunnel. Looks like they put up a fight, too -- there's some blood spattered on the rocks, see?" Cath says, pointing out the items of significance to the rest of the group. "And here's some cloth. I'd wager this was torn from someone's garment in the process."
"Let's take this north fork." Cath re-grips his sword and steps into the north tunnel.
Umros peers at the blood, tugging at one end of his oversized moustache. He worried for the safety of James, and the other children said to have disappeared. The thought of defeated or enchanted youths led to such a dark place disturbed him, so the evidence of struggle was a small comfort.
With renewed urgency, the gnome with his torch follows close behind the stalwart pit-fighter, lighting the path ahead.
"I am comforted to have your armor in front. Lead on and I shall make sure we are not followed," Sparks says in reply to Cath as she keeps up with the group.
"Is there any sign of the bear's passage?" Tainesh asks, suddenly unable to think of a fate worse than being dragged into a dark hole by hungry bears.
Langblade shrugs as she brings up the rear. "Not much of a tracker myself," she grins wickedly "more of a sword-swingy type." Nonetheless the warrior stoops to examine the blood trace and cloth as they pass by.
The group notes the trail and follows the left passage. The dirt and stone continues deeper into the earth and the smell of loam and water fills your lungs. It feels as if the tunnel is continuously sloping downward on a track further under the ground. After a short distance the path through the ground takes a sharp turn to the right, but with the aid of Umros' light source the group has no trouble negotiating the tunnel.
Just beyond the sharp right turn, it appears that the tunnel splits again. This time with the track the group is on continuing forward, with an off-shoot of the tunnel cutting to the right.
However, there's something peculiar about the tunnel to the right. It seems as if someone or something had passed that way fairly recently... The air feels less dank somehow? You're pretty sure the trail isn't the same, but you know for sure that it's fresher.
“Hmm…” the old wanderer muses aloud, looking over the newer path to the right. His mind buzzes with the passages taken and untaken, wishing he had the presence of mind to pick up parchment and ink before they left town.
“Let’s take this turn, and see where it goes...” he trundles to the tunnel on the right, craning his neck around the corner.
Sparks takes a quick glance forward to see the turn Umros was speaking of then continues to cover the group's rear.
"One's as good as the other," Tainesh says as she follows Umros.
Umros can see everything, so he would think. His vision pierces through the darkness to note every nook and cranny of the juncture and right hall way. It's a shame that there's not really anything to see other than the rock...
Behind the fearless little wanderer the party advances into the right fork of the tunnel. The light from their magical implements casts shadows that jump and spin around the room as the group shuffles towards what appears to be a dead end?
“Well… that’s a dead end.” Not liking the idea of being backed into a corner, Cath hefts his sword and heads a few steps back from the way they came, watching for trouble that might have followed them.
"I have been watching behind the entire time. As best I have been able tell nothing is following us," Sparks says as Cath steps up beside her.
Umros squints at the fine line in the stone.
“Could be,” he replies to Cath, “though it’s odd that the cave floor here is unusually clean in here...”
Wary to the unrightness of the short passage, he takes cautious steps deeper inside, little gnomish eyes scanning the walls for more oddities. He stops short of the circle, and crouches low to get a better look. To those behind him, he resembles an overstuffed backpack with feet and a hat. Running a finger along the line, he sniffs at the grime collected in the crack, and then tastes to determine what sort of residue might collect around this unnatural circle in the rock.
"I'll take your word for it," Tainesh says as she stays out of the others' way. "I just... um..." She trails off the moment she sees Umros licking the grimy wall. "This room may be clean, but things have been living in it. Don't you know what kind of diseases lie in bat guano?"
“Spelunker’s Lung. Though we haven’t spooked any bats yet…” Umros absent-mindedly answers Tainesh.
He angles his head to one side, suddenly aware of the drip-drop echoes from the water in the cave system. A moment of inspiration insistently taps his shoulder, pleading to be released to meter of the soft sounds in the caves.
“Eyes can pass things unfound,
Fingers but scratch the surface.
Ears can easily be drowned,
Where tongue can be of service.”
Snickering, he adds, taking a few ponderous steps to the rock wall.
“It opens flavor and thought to the mind,”
The gnome rests a hand against a particular spot, and leans.
“Opens doors to palaces and ...mines?”
At the last word, the spot of ground under investigation falls open to shine a burst of cheery light that floods out of the hidden doorway. A ladder appears to lead down a short way to more flat stone, also lit by a hearth somewhere below.
Silvery eyes sparkle at the discovery, and after a moment, Umros remembers why his companions ventured into the caves in the first place. He regrips his shortbow with caution as he cranes his neck to look down the drop. Glancing back up to the women and Cath, the mustachioed one shrugs, silently gesturing that he does not know who should go first.
Sparks turns as she hears the unexpected creaking and can't help a nervous laugh as she watches the hidden door swing inward.
"Those bears sure had it swell," she jokes as she moves to Umros' left to better peer down the ladder. Her jovial mood vanishes as quickly as it appeared however as she catches glimpse of the flickering light and shadows cast by the unseen fire. She moves back to clear a path for the others, accidentally bumping into the cave wall behind her in the process.
"Maybe one of you would like to go first? she says to Cath and Langblade.
Cath whirls about at the sound of the… door?… opening in the floor. “Huh, didn’t expect that… Yeah, alright, give me a second to check it out,” he says, stowing his sword in its scabbard. He draws his kukri and clenches the blade between his teeth—blade out—before descending quickly down the ladder to the room below.
"That's, uh..." Tainesh says as she peers down the hatch. After a moment of consideration, she finishes with "interesting."
With a magical light still shining from her staff, she follows Cath into the room below.
The small gnome raises an eyebrow as the unarmored girl descends, happily surprised at her quiet and casual show of courage. Not wanting to miss the literal turn in this tale, Umros steps to the top of the ladder, sticks the magical torch through a strap to allow him to descend with both hands, and waits for Tainesh to reach the bottom before beginning the climb down. When his big grey eyes are level with the cave floor, he looks up at Sparks and Langblade. "You coming?" he whispers.
Once his feet touch the ground, he holds the torch once more. The wanderer listens and studies the new room, sniffing the air for anything out of place.
"After you..." Sparks offers to Langblade, her voice less polite than it is concerned for the others. The tunnel around the two remaining women darkens to a considerably dimmer flicker as the other light sources descend down the ladder.
Langblade shrugs and grabs the sides of the well-crafted ladder, sliding down easily the two meters to the floor below. She turns with her hand on haft of sword to look further into the warm room.
More importantly, perhaps, is the small man sitting hunched over the table. A very hairy man, tinkering with something out of your sight. His shoulders move with his tinkering but he doesn't turn from his work. The ceiling seems low, only eight feet from the floor. Other than that the room, for it is certainly a room and not a cave, seems very comfortable.
But overriding even the importance of the small hairy man, is what appears to be an exceptionally viscous looking crossbow resting on a tripod behind where he sits. It's not pointed at you, per se. But then it's not not pointed at you either.
Presently, he speaks, "That all of you then?"
"Is it safe to come down?" Sparks asks loudly enough to be heard by everybody in the cave below.
Cath cringes ever so slightly when Sparks calls out. So much for the hidden backup…
“That's everyone.” Turning to the rest of the group, he chides, “And didn't I say to wait while I checked this place out?”
The fighter goes back to addressing the hairy man, “We apologize for the interruption. We're searching these caves for a lost child. Well, a stolen child, more like. Would you have any idea where we might focus our efforts? In any case, we'll be out of your… hair in just a moment.” The words barely tumble off of Cath's tongue before he realizes the unintended pun. I hope that wasn't insulting…
After surveying the man and his table, Cath notices the mild oddity that almost all of his apparent possessions seem to be in the far end of the room, furthest from where the ladder is.
This fact in mind, Umros is able to see a very faint, almost imperceptible line in the middle of the floor, bisecting the room from wall to wall...
Umros squints at the oddly furnished room, and then the back of the tinkerer. A sheepish grin breaks over his face when Cath looks to those behind him.
He is about to point out the backwardness of leaving a sneak thief behind rather than sending one ahead when his silvery eyes catch a subtle movement from the seated hairy man. The hair on the back of his neck stands up, but he maintains a pleasant expression.
"Information," he interjects brightly, "This conversation will be over information. It seems you might be willing to share what you know? And with five minds to your one, I'll guarantee that there's something one of us knows that you'll want to."
"Heh, though I suppose the trouble would be knowing what you don't know. My friend here has it right; we'll be along shortly. I'll only add that thieving is not our business. Tinkering and exploring are mine, presently." He casually grips a ladder rung behind him, hoping that a common trade might pique the hairy one's interest.
Reluctantly, Sparks descends the ladder. She hops off a few rungs above Umros' grip and lands gracefully on her feat. Then she notices the man... and the fireplace... and the crossbow... and the fireplace... and the room... and fireplace...
"I... excuse me..." she says to the hairy man before walking over to the fire with a deep frown on her face. Ignoring the obviously threatening crossbow right in front of her, she grabs hold of the fire iron and spends a few short moments tending to the fire. When finished, she puts the fire iron back neater than she found it and steps back among the others before saying: "Thank you..."