The thought of setting up camp so close to the corpses of the scouting party sends shivers up Cueta's spine. What if there is no necromancer? What if they rise on their own, if this land has some - connection - to the lands of the dead that cause their souls to be restless?
Looking to Istiel, Cueta concurs. "Agreed. I have no desire to camp so close to the dead, and there is no sense in stumbling around in the dark, trying to get the jump on these goblins. We can backtrack and follow their tracks in the morning."
As they walk, the Mwangi woman unslings her bow and quiver, and hands the items to Bern. "Bern, warrior, kuru-slayer, take this bow and these arrows. I have found the kuru javelins to be more to my liking. You're a terror with your axe, but sometimes it is best to strike from hiding before you are seen. If nothing else, this bow should help you with a hunt."
Gair nods slowly, "Some distance will do us good. We'll stop at sundown."
He thinks about the issue of the foragers, "Avoiding fires will do much for their safety. They will of course be traveling with the same armed men and women that watch over them now. Hopefully Hassan can pull together a few more as well given time."
He gives Istiel an odd look, "Some lands are far harder to tame than others...often you must simply grow strong enough to weather the hardships."
A mile or so from the hilltop, Gair loses the tracks. Perhaps because it's getting too dark to see, with dusk turning to night and the forest cover casting shadows.
As they follow the tracks of the hobgoblins, Istiel makes note of any natural shelters they could use for the night. She is hesitant to light a fire or leave them completely exposed.
Once they find a site for the night Kal'Tos will take their rope and tie it between trees about 6in off the ground. He will circle around the camp doing this. He aims to have the rope about 20ft out from the camp on all sides.
Seeing Kal'Tos begin to string his rope around the campsite, Cueta takes her handaxe and then removes another foot from her rope, and unwinds the strands from the rope, tying them together into smaller rope cords. She then removes the mess kit from her pack and ties the utensils closely together to Kal'Tos's rope, in the hopes that anyone running into the rope tripwire will set the utensils jangling enough to alert anyone on watch.
Istiel finds the darkness slightly unnerving. When it is her watch, she sits with her back across a tree, staring straight ahead. Any sound causes her head to swivel, scrutinizing as best she can with her low-light vision.
The explorers find a tolerable place to camp, in the shelter of some boulders that at least put something at their backs and limit the approaches to their camp. The early watches are tense, with Cueta and Gair near blind in the dark, and the night forest coming alive with small creatures. By the last watch, nothing has happened, and Kal'Tos' darkvision puts everyone at ease, a bit. It is an hour or two until dawn when he hears the sound of something moving through the treetops above them.
========
Hassan wakes in the dark of night to find Sandra Thayer holding a candle, prodding him awake.
"Come quickly, and quietly," she whispers.
Vallen wakes with Eli shaking him rather more roughly.
"You're needed, dwarf," the young man half-whispers, half-shouts, his eyes wide and near panic.
Sorala and Septimus both wake on their own, sensing something is afoot in the camp. People are moving through the darkness with urgency, and converging on the Thayer's tent.
When Kal'tos awakes and joins her for the watch, the elf relaxes a bit, relying on the dwarf's superior vision.
The elf scrambles up, moving to a nearby boulder for shelter. She accidentally steps on Cueta's leg, nearly tripping. "Up, Up! Something in the trees." She harshly whispers to the humans.
When Kal'Tos hears the sounds he indicates to Istiel to wake the others up. At the same time, he pulls his dwarven waraxe from where it is strapped on his back, then picking up his shield from beside him. He faces in the direction of the sound, prepared to protect his comrades while they get up.
Septimus arises to the sounds of shouting. He grabs his quarterstaff and looks for those of importance to see if he can help.
Another dead end- where were these tunnels leading? Vallen sighs and once again sees the relief detailing the story of demon-worshipping dwarves, the image of Torag transforming into Biyari. As he turns from the dead-end, he is startled to see his late brother Ajax behind him.
A wicked grin crosses his brother's face, and he clasps Vallen's shoulders, shaking the terrified dwarf. "Torag is false, his toil is for his own gains. Biyari led us to the surface, gives us power! Join us!" Vallen screams in rage, grabbing his brother by the collar....
Vallen's calloused hands reach up and grab Eli by the collar as he is shaken awake, the Dwarf's eyes wide with fear and anger at an unseen image. He shouts something about keeping true to his faith in startled dwarven before snapping out of it, relaxing his grip. "Droskar's taint, lad, you nearly made my spirit jump out my nose." The priest picks himself up, grabbing his warhammer and shield as a precaution. "Sorry about that, you all right? What in the abyss is going on?" Tapping the shield with a finger and giving a quick prayer, it lights up like a torch.
As Istiel's booted heel digs - hard - into Cueta's leg, for the second time in a day, the Mwangi wakes with a curse on her lips, but the elf's words silence Cueta. Instead, a shiver runs down her spine as she realizes the four scouts aren't alone. Sitting ramrod straight and listening for a beat, the young warrior thinks, In the trees in the trees. Gods, they watched us set the tripwire!
Fumbling with her pack, feeling around for her flint, steel and a torch, the words come forced, a high-pitched croak. "Light! We need to light the trees!"
Again Sorala dreams of Garrack and the tree, and in her dreams the historian sits, legs folded underneath her staring at the Garrack-statue, the statue again framed by grass and bark. Sorala looks up and the tree's branches spread out and over them, covering the woman and the statue almost completely from the sky, occluding the stars and the moon.
"Garrack, Istiel tells me this tree is a tiger oak. It is called a tiger oak because when the tree is quarter sawn - a board cut one way and then again at a ninety-degree angle - the grain appears to be like that of a tiger's stipes. It is a strong tree - tiger oaks are apparently used to build beautiful structures in the elf's lands. I assume dwarves know nothing of tiger oaks, but Vallen, he could not have chosen a better tree to make you from."
The statue sits in its grass indentation, and seems to stare back into Sorala's eyes, and a moment passes. Then the words come into Sorala's head, Garrack's voice and not Garrack's voice, a sound deep and drawn out, the words themselves belabored. Get yourrrr wits about yooouu. Sssommething is afoot...
------
...and the young woman wakes with a sharp gasp, and exhaling, she first notices her breath, a cloud in front of her on this cold, spring night, and then beyond that a bobbing light making its way towards the Thayers' tent, the light silhouetting what can only be a dwarf-shaped body. Grabbing Garrack and her club, Sorala looks about her for familiar faces, and starts slinking towards the light, taking the statue-Garrack's advice and keeping her wits about her, club raised above her head to strike anyone unfamiliar.
Hassan awakes suddenly, starting at Sandra's touch. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus on the young woman but they quickly harden at her words. The keleshite nods, buckling his sword to his waist. Sparing a look for his bear hide armor, he dismisses it and moves after Sandra, speaking softly, "What has happened?"
Gair's eyes snap open immediately as Istiel kicks his boot. A grimace goes unseen in the dark as the elf speaks. I'd have thought an elf would know to hold her tongue.
Moving into a crouch, the northern warrior grabs the axe from beside him and strains to make out anything above them in the dark.
At Ceuta's words he moves close to her so that she might make him out in the gloom, "We will do no such thing. Save your flint for a torch. And quickly!"
The explorers ready themselves for what might be coming, and the sounds from the trees seem to be coming from everywhere. The humans and the elf are effectively blind in the darkness, but Kal'Tos can see tiny shapes moving along the branches just at the edge of his vision. Chittering noises come from above.
Initiative
1. Cueta, Gair, Istiel
2. ?
3. Kal'Tos
==========
Sandra stamps impatiently.
"I knew it would happen," she says, her tone mixed of fear and anger. "I warned him not to.... Are you coming?"
==========
Eli stares at Vallen and his hand goes to the axe he wears at his belt as the dwarf shakes him, but he stops himself.
"Please," he said. "Just hurry."
==========
As the people converge on the Thayer's tent, the apparent source of the disturbance, frightened and angry faces appear. Two of the Thayer's followers stand at the entrance of the tent, holding their spears in both hands, ready to fight. Torches are thrust into the ground in front of them.
Instead of going inside, however, the players are led around the back of the tent. Another pair of men turn to look as the group approaches, but they turn back when they recognize Sandra and Eli. Their spears are pointed at Bern Hearthseeker, who sits on the ground, arms folded in front of him, staring grimly into the torch flame.
Edmund Thayer lies in a pool of blood, blood bubbling from his lips as he stares up into nothing.
Ben Sandlock lies face down, his head split in half like a melon by Bern's axe.
"Please," Sandra says to Vallen, pointing to her brother. "Save him."
Septimus will aid Vallen's heal check
Vallen gasps as he sees the scence, eyes widening to the size of saucers. "What... no! No!!" Running over, the dwarf drops his hammer to the ground and yanks the shield off of his arm, thrusting it into Eli's hands. "Hold it, I need the light!"
The dwarf kneels next to Edmund and Ben- it only takes a moment to see that Ben is gone, his brains clearly visible. The cleric grasps his holy symbol, shouting a prayer to Torag that is sure to wake half the camp. "Torag! Please give me your blessing, keep this one from Pharasma's gate, this community, my community, needs every soul, every hand!"
Waves of bright energy pour forth from his hammer-shaped symbol, washing over everyone in the crowd. Edmund and anyone else nearby would feel the invigorating healing energy of Torag's blessing.
He half expects Ben to get up.... but knows it is too late for the halfling.
When Edmund regains consciousness, the dwarf begins to check him over for other wounds with the help of Septimus.
"What happened here? Why?" He sounds so desperate, so confused, directing his attention towards Bern.
Istiel draws an arrow from her quiver, knocking it in her bow and aiming upward. "We're not dwarves, we need some light, Gair!" She hisses, back pushed up against the boulder.
Round 1
She is about to blindly loose into the trees, when she remembers the pseudodragons. Straining her ears, she attempts to tell if it's Draconic or not.
As Sorala slinks towards the Thayers' tent, she feels the weight of the Garrack-statue in her hand, the limestone cool against her flesh, and for a second the woman has a crystal-clear flash of her dream, with the tiger-oak Garrack sitting by the tree, and the words it spoke to Sorala just before she woke. Huh, weird. I think I need to visit that tree again.
---------
Sorala follows the dwarf-light around the back of the Thayers' tent, brushing aside any attempts to stop her. "I'm on the council, guardsmen. What has happened here is my business as much as anyone's."
---------
The half-elf stands, ashen, viewing the carnage by the Thayers' tent. I should go back and get my pen and parchment. The young Kellid and Thayer need to be interviewed. And we need to discuss a means to have a peaceful resolution of our problems here at Newspring, before we have a war, or innocents hurt...
Sorala's eyes dart around the scene, looking for the women from Portress that were to sleep in the tent that evening. "Sandra, are the women from the Harpy OK?"
Round 1
Cueta fumbles in her pack, her mind running one word over and over. Balls balls balls balls balls balls balls...
Hassan strides into the tent quickly, anxious to see what Sandra is talking about? The former bodyguard is momentarily taken aback by the scene before him. Red dawn. I swore to protect these people!
Regaining his composure quickly as Vallen darts forward to attempt to rescue Edmund's life. Hassan pulls his gaze from the bodies and directs is at the young kellid warrior. Taking measure of the newly-made man, Hassan glances behind him at the few bystanders. Putting a hand on the shoulder of one of the men with a spear pointed at Bern, Hassan gestures to the people behind them, "Can you see to keeping those without reason to be here away? ...Don't worry, I will watch him.", he touches the scimitar at his belt.
Once the other man steps away, Hassan kneels in front of Bern, meeting his eyes, "You won't offer any trouble will you, son? ...grisly work this. A man is dead at your hand and another lies in peril. Can you tell me what happened here?"
Round 1
Gair hisses back at the elf, "And we'll have it in a minute! But don't go setting the trees ablaze just yet. You'd be likely to cost us our lives as well!"
Axe in hand, Gair backs against a tree and settles into a defensive stance until he can spot an enemy properly.
The chittering sounds from the trees are definitely not draconic, and there is none of the telepathic noise that Istiel felt when the pseudodragons made contact with her before.
A moment later, the chittering is replaced by screeching, and the darkness overhead seems to come alive. Kal'Tos is able to see hundreds of tiny creatures rushing through the trees, huge eyes wide, teeth bared, almost human fingers on both hands and feet letting them climb down quickly, descending on the camp.
=========
As Vallen's healing energy pours out, Edmund's eyes fly open in panic. He sits up and coughs, blood pouring from his mouth, a ragged wound, healed by magic, clearly visible high on his back. For a full minute or more he coughs and spits, clearing his lungs of blood. He stares at Ben's corpse and shares a glance with his sister before he climbs slowly to his feet.
"Thank you, Vallen," he says, his voice hoarse. Then he gives a bow, unsteady but deep. "I am in your debt."
The guards have backed away, but are paying much more attention to the scene unfolding than to the crowd that it gathering at the edge of the torchlight. Faces are confused and afraid. Bern looks up at Hassan and sighs.
"I didn't know it was Ben," he says. "I was just through my watch but couldn't sleep when I heard him moving through the bush. He had no light, and I remembered the skin thief, so I got my axe and began to follow. When he struck, I knew it was Edmund, who had been sleeping out since the women from the dwarf island were in the tent, so I thought it was trying to steal a place on our council. I attacked and killed him before I knew it was Ben."
The healing completed Septimus quietly shifts away from the centre of the group.
Kal'Tos motions with his hands and suddenly his shield lights up like a beacon.
Hassan turns to Edmund with a restrained look of relief on his face, "I am glad to see we did not lose you this day Edmund. Can you corroborate any of the young man's story? Did you awaken before the attack incapacitated you?"
Round 2
Gair's eyes widen as the cleric's light illuminates the swarming primates above the party.
"What are these foul creatures? Some form of imp? Demonic influence does run rife in these lands. Stay together, we will not let such abominations live!"
Gair plants himself directly underneath the swarm of monkeys, holding his axe low, ready to sweep up at the descending creatures as they fall on him.
Round 2
When the light of Abadar floods the area around them, Istiel flinches before regaining her composure, looking upward. The sight of the vicious monkeys is all she needs to finally loose the arrow from her bow, sending it towards the nearest creature. "There are too many of them! They're going to swarm us!"
As Edmund sputters back to life like a rekindled ember, the dwarf is quick to his side, holding his shoulder while simultaneously inspecting his back. "Keep clearing your lungs, Edmund. Don't stop until it feels natural to breathe again."
The dwarf mutters an oath under his breath at the size of the wound on Edmund's back- there is no doubt that Ben meant to murder Edmund in his sleep. When the noble can finally speak, Vallen simply nods and allows him to stand. "Take it easy now. We need to wash and bind that wound, but we don't have to do it here."
He turns his head towards Bern, listening to the story sadly. The cleric almost rubs his hands across his face, but notices the blood covering his fingers. Blue eyes stare at it for a moment before he summons water with his other hand, beginning to wash it off.
"Hassan, Edmund was stabbed in the back. It pains me to say this, but it's clear to me he tried to murder Edmund in his sleep. I don't know why, but that's what it looks like."
He turns to Bern, laying a clean if wet hand on his shoulder. "You saved a life today, Bern. If you had hesitated, Ben may have killed you as well, he was wicked with his rapier. I don't know why our friend turned all of a sudden, but we do not have the luxury of knowing."
Round 2
As the light springs from Kal'Tos' shield, Cueta drops the torch and flint she's pulled from her pack, and grabs her bill from beside her, smiling a little at Gair's bewilderment despite the group's circumstances.
"They're monkeys - more of them and meaner than the ones near my village, but monkeys none-the-less. Swing your weapons in large swaths as they come at us!"
Sorala pinches the bridge of her nose, between her eyes, the beginnings of a migraine coming on. "This could be a big problem. Someone in a leadership position needs to tell the halflings, and in a way that can diffuse any situation that could arise." Removing her hand from her nose, the half-elf looks directly at Vallen, half-pleading and half-commanding. "Sandra's words will not be listened to, I'm too blunt for my own good, and Hassan should stay neutral as much as possible. You have a good reputation here, amongst most all the groups of Newspring. I have no doubt you'll find the right words."
Sighing heavily, Sorala turns her attention to the Taldane. "Edmund, I hate to ask, but at the leadership council meeting, your sister mentioned you not asking for - what was it - recompense? What part in your attack did you play?"
Turning back to Vallen, Sorala says, "If you agree to break the news to the halflings, I'll go with you to lend my support to your words in any way that I can. Bern and Edmund should stay under guard for awhile, for their own safety. Once tempers die down, a halfling should be invited to the leadership council, if possible. And the council needs to meet soon to discuss a way to solve our disputes that won't end in someone's death."
Vallen listens to Sorala, eyebrows raising as he's told to deliver the news. "Me? Hassan's the sheriff, I shouldn't have to tell the halflings they need to bury another one of their own. It's clear what happened- Edmund got stabbed in the back, Bern prevented his death. Do we have to talk about damned politics right now? I need to treat Edmund before his wound gets infected." The dwarf is clearly upset at all of this, and just wants to do his expected duties.
Hassan frowns, "Vallen is right. It is my duty to protect the people of Newspring. The burden falls to me when I fail..."
He casts a worried look at Bern before returning his attention to the dwarf, "I too am inclined to believe Bern's story. Though I don't think we can rule out other explanations just yet. To keep people's fears at rest, we will hold him and Edmund under guard for the time being."
"Speaking of which, what have you to say on the matter of your attack Edmund?"
Sorala sighs, the reaction from Vallen and Hassan being what she suspected it would be. "It is your duty to protect the people of Newspring, Hassan - we concur on this. But, there is no time for honey here - let me blunt. Do you have training in conflict resolution, Hassan? How about grief counseling? How will the halflings take you as a messenger, when as you state, you failed tonight?"
"My comments not a reflection on you, Hassan. My comments are a reflection on the situation - we don't need a guard now. We need a mediator. Someone with empathy and the ability to calm tempers." Holding up the Garrack statue, Sorala looks Vallen in the eye for a long few seconds before continuing. "I know that Vallen is the person to talk to the halflings, as he has these qualities. I've been subject to them."
Sorala lowers the statue and, almost as an afterthought, adds, "Има нещо друго, което искам да обсъдя с вас, далеч от това местопрестъпление. Довърши си процедури и ще се отправят към полуръстове заедно. Хасан може да ни придружи, както и - той трябва да е наясно с моите мисли. И си свещеник в обучение, както предполагам."
Hassan narrows his eyes at the half-elven woman, "Speak plainly woman, this is no time for secrets."
Sorala shrugs, casting a sideways glance at Vallen. "I simply was trying to assure Vallen that he was the best person for the job, and that if he felt more comfortable with you and his priest-in-training accompanying us along to speak with the Sandlots, it would only be a good thing. We could discuss the best way to keep Bern and the Thayers safe from any reprisals. I simply thought addressing the dwarf in his own tongue would curry a little favor or respect. My apologies. I'm afraid I'm not a very good manipulator, and I am afraid that Vallen will dig his heels in, dwarves generally being stubborn and all."
Vallen sighs as Sorala begins to go on a spiel about needing the right person for the job, and his shoulders visibly slump. Torag- Your faithful servant has but one small request. Please let me work on the forge tomorrow.
He seems a bit surprised as she shows him the statue, and the dwarf looks a tad confused. Why does she carry it around with her? It's not a doll, it's a memorial. When she begins to speak in grammatically perfect dwarven his face changes to surprise, and it's at this point he decides to get off the rolling sea of emotions Sorala has instilled in the situation.
Throwing up his hands, the priest grumbles and retrieves his warhammer and shield from Eli. "Fine. You win. I'll come along- I'm tired and the sooner we do this the sooner I get to go to bed. Let me tend to Edmund first."