Seeing Vylyra approaching. "Someone should stay with the horses."
When the four are within fifteen feet of the pinned man in the fog, they see wounds on the man and horse. Indeed, the young man is clad in very old armor and an iron helm. Dried dark blood is on his face and arms, and the horse's rib cage appears crushed and blackened on one side. He holds no weapon, and his arms push uselessly against the equine corpse that pins his lower half to the wet grass.
"Ent," he pants, in answer to Ajaxx's askance of his name. "Firko Ent of Clearwater."
The Ent family is among the oldest members of the town of Clearwater. Technically nobility, they are not rich, but not poor either, and their influence within the town and surrounding areas is known to those who are local to the King's Lake.
Although Firko may be acting independently, the Ent family has not officially taken up arms and rode to battle since before the beginning of High King Thadeus the Benevolent's rule, at least fifty years ago.
The young soldier's armor is very, very old, and yet it is well-preserved. The clue to its antiquity is the style of the craftsmanship -smiths have since developed finer tools and techniques that cut down on bulky joints; they also now use less iron in favor of stronger alloys such as steel. Wherever this young man acquired this armor, it was kept in like-new condition and is older than he is by three hundred years, probably more.
Ajaxx positions himself so the can begin pushing at the horse with his back but waits for Henry to join him. "We will have you out of there in a jiffy Ent."
Quick flashes an apologetic smile at Vylyra and heads back to the horses.
Vylyra puts her bow away and joins Ajaxx near the horse to begin pushing it off. "Well, what are we waiting for?" she asks Ajaxx.
Ajaxx and Vylyra lower themselves to push the horse up and off the man. But as they lean towards the horse, they suddenly find themselves falling through the dead mammal and onto cold wet grass!
The big man and half-elf can still see a ghostly outline of the horse that they presently lay in. But they, along with Henry and Quick, having just dismounted only moments ago, know that horses are normally quite solid. This non-horse must be some sort of figment, or illusion!
Firko Ent flops his arms and head back onto the grass.
"I give up. I'll probably die under this horse!" he wails dramatically.
Now that you are looking for it, Firko Ent's form does not cast a shadow. He is also some sort of figment, visible to the eye but not substantial to the touch.
"Not highwaymen!" Henry shouts, all thoughts of horsemeat rations abandoned. "Back to the horses!"
Vylyra quickly jumps up and runs back towards the horses. While running she says, "That man and horse are but an illusion! It's a trap!"
Not sure about what is going on but not wanting to be caught in a trap Ajaxx draws his weapons and heads toward the houses. "An illusion? But that man needs help to be broken out of it."
"What?! You're leaving?" cries out Ent, before he realizes why. "I'm not a trap!" He calls after them.
If the man and the horse were figments cast by an illusionist, it is either a single spell that is fairly advanced, like Major Image, or a combination of simpler spells, such as Ventriloquism and Silent Image. The Ventriloquism spell would require the spellcaster to be close by.
Still, it seemed to the ranger that the figment's reactions were not delayed in the slightest, as might be the case with an illusion directed from a mage unseen. Something about the man and horse, while still insubstantial, seems a little too "real" to be a perfect example of illusory magic. Alas, if she had access to a simple Divination spell that aids in the Detection and identification of Magic, the oddity might make itself a little clearer.
Ajaxx and Vylyra manage to get to their feet as Henry is already turning to bolt back to the horses. Among their shouting, no whistling arrows or ominous incantations from the fog join in the chaos. One terse chuff answers their alarm, and the three of them hear the thudding of heavy hooves.
Looking in that direction, a veritable mountain of shaggy brown fur bears down on them, with short curved horns sticking out of a big hairy head. The horns might be small, but there is a lot of animal behind them, and all of it is angrily barreling on toward the three of them. Soon the mist is thin enough to discern this as a male bison, particularly upset and territorial on this brisk morning.
The towering mass of fur and muscle thunders over the three as they try to make their escape.
Quick hears the worrisome calls of his traveling companions, answered by a beastly bellow and heavy hooves. From where he stands with the horses, a great big lumpy shape charges through the fog. It appears to be a large bison, hardy livestock common to the area. The animal chuffs angrily out of his wide snout, noticing Quick for the first time.
"Oh."
Henry Southgard barely has time to react to the sound of tramping hooves. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something like a great bear with horns, which was ridiculous. He didn't believe it for a second. But there it was, a mound of shaggy brown fur capped with a head bigger than a kite shield and moving like-
He fails to dodge. He goes under. One hind leg lands firmly on his breastplate and the other slams into his chin like an uppercut courtesy of a three-hundredweight Orc.
"You..." Henry wheezes as he stumbles to his feet. "You're lunch, mark my words."
Ajaxx attempts to jump out of the way but takes the full brunt of the attack.
"No no don't hurt it. It's someone's livestock! Just run!" Ajaxx makes for the fence. Ajaxx wonders for a moment why someone would trap their livestock but worries about getting out of the way of the beast.
Seeing his friends charged by such a massive, angry creature, Quick finds himself moving before he has time to think it through.
Time for a nap I think.
"Fahin Spiir!" Multi-hued shadows erupt from his out stretched hand streaking toward the bison's eyes.
This is a bison. A bigger, woollier, and more territorial cousin to cattle. Male bison (also called bulls) can be especially confrontational.
Even domesticated bison tend to need a greater tract of land to rove than cows. While they are often too ill-tempered to use as a beast of burden, some ranchers might see the value in their grumpy disposition, since cattle are easier to steal and are easier prey for the natural predators in the area. Additionally, bison wool can be harvested in the warmer season and sold at the market. It is more likely that the owner of this bison erected the fence to mark his property and discourage accidental trespass. For all their aggression, these massive herd animals are still quite dumb. They probably would not try to break down the fence without a good reason. The market price for a healthy bull bison is between 10 to 20 pieces in gold, if Henry's memory serves.
"Gah!" Firko Ent tucks up close to his horse, even though the path of the charging bison comes nowhere near him.
"If we don't cut it up for rations, the Orcs will!" Henry Southgard shouts to Ajaxx. In spite of his anger and, er, spite, Henry turns and runs for the fence. "C'mon, let's go!"
Vylyra clearly sees the large beast charging. She nimbly tumbles between the bison's legs and out of it's path. She continues running towards the horses, and says, "Everyone get out of it's way!"
The big woolly beast bellows at the advancing half-orc. He lowers his head and throws himself into another charge.
The shower of colorful lights cover the face of the angry bison, and the charge lurches to a halt. Little brown eyes blink away the confusion.
Quick's face drops in horror. It's THAT strong!? "Run!"
Quick turns and bolts toward the horses.
Just a few more steps, and Henry Southgard is free of the cloud. A few steps over that, he steps over the fence and out of the pasture.
Ajaxx books it to the fence and attempts to throw himself over the fence. As he runs he thinks to himself, why oh why would some one do something like this.
Vylyra continues to run full force towards the fence and hops over near where they left the horses. She searches for enemies.
Aside from the momentary panic of evading the bison, the rest of the foggy landscape is quiet and cool. Neither Henry or Vylyra sense approaching highwaymen or any other danger. Even the bison seems satisfied in the defense of its herd and range, and does not pursue after it recovers from Quick's colorful spell. The hulking shaggy beast is not easily seen, but those over the fence can hear heavy hooves slowly plod away. Vylyra's horse chuffs and shakes its mane.
"Don't leave me out here!" pleads Firko Ent from the mist. "I'm not an ...illusion?" he adds, sounding unsure of the meaning of the word or the state of his existence.
"Well what are you then!?" Quick shouts from the safety of the road.
The bull bison growls half-heartedly at Quick's shout.
"I am a man, half-orc! An Ent, no less," calls Firko, "I was leading a score of riders yesterday when we were unexpectedly set upon by the enemy. I am the only survivor, and I fear this horse will be the death of me if I cannot... get... out..." He trails off, grunting in with effort between his last words, presumably struggling against the weight of the horse once more. The bison voices no further warnings.
Quick looks to Henry questioningly. "Yesterday? Surely there'd be signs of cavalry moving through the area."
"There would be," Henry Southward agrees. "But the horse is an illusion. Ajax and Vylyra fell right through it."
"How far did you run from the fight?" he yells to Ent.
A low growl from the bull comes from the fog, spoken over by Firko Ent.
"You insult me! I was at the head of the charge! But that monstrous brute knocked my horse and I off the ground! Was not twenty feet before I landed! Crushed, really. And here I lay, me and this damned dead horse... I don't understand how you fell through it..."
Quick sweeps a quizzical look across his companions.
Vylyra shrugs, not sure what to do at this point. She digs through her mind, attempting to recall any prior study of beasts and natural elements in this world that might explain this strange encounter.
"So you say..." Henry Southgard says, casting a doubtful eye across the pasture. As a soldier of many battlefields, he'd seen people broken in the head who would see things that weren't really there and hear phantoms talk just as clearly as mortal men. Maybe they were spiritually exhausted from fighting, or maybe they'd seen something they couldn't handle, or maybe some idiot quartermaster had bought grain tainted by ergot. But one couldn't shake the feeling that these men really were seeing something nobody else could.
That was quite different, and yet eerily similar, to the case of four people encountering a man who wasn't really there, yet insisted he was.
This could be the work of a master illusionist (which begs the question, why would the illusionist waste their time in a wet, foggy field of wandering and ill-tempered bison?).
If Firko is telling the truth, he is a consciousness that is, by the claims of Quick's companions, insubstantial. With his limited experience with such things, the first explanation that comes to the half-orc's mind is a restless spirit. Much like Zaal Vsok. He knows such forms of "naturally occurring" magical manifestations are categorized by scholars within the Necromancy school.
The young mage also wonders if Firko could be stuck in a plane that overlaps the Material Plane, but he would need to dig deep into his memory to recall what he can of the extraplanar.
All this postulation is difficult to confirm from afar, however. Casting a detection spell that illuminates magical auras would clearly define the source of the strange effect.
In her travels and studies of nature and its creatures, she remembers that some fey tend to favor illusory and deceptive magic. However, she already suspects that this mysterious Firko Ent is not an illusion, so the explanation of a fey culprit is possible, but unlikely.
Besides fey creatures, she does not know of any other way of nature creating this kind of magical effect. There could be an explanation from an other field of study, however.
Henry sees no obvious signs of battle. Save for the clumps recently turned up by the bison, the thick wet grass is mostly in tact. The fence is old but unbroken as far as he can see. No weapons, arrows, or shields lay discarded as they are after a battle.
Ajaxx is lost. He is a pit fighter not a scholar and has no worldly or otherworldly for that matter, knowledge. "I can try to distract the beast but I don't know what is going on right now."
Quickly dismissing planar explanations due to his own lack of knowledge, Quick raises a tentative voice. "Firko? Do you...remember dying?"
Startled by Quicks' question, and remembering something he'd seen earlier, Henry Southgard speaks to the rest of the party in a hushed tone.
"His armor is old, very old. It's the sort of thing you'd only ever see on display. Better armor isn't hard to get, so the only value that armor has is in its provenance."
"So then why is there a man in a field that thinks he was in a battle, with a horse that doesn't exist holding him pinned, being guarded by a Bison? And what's this about him being dead already?!" Ajaxx whisper yells, clearly exasperated but trying to be quiet.
Quick looks at Henry, "Remember Zaal Vsok? What if Firko is a spirit? How else do you explain him if he's not an illusion? I didn't see what happened so I'm going completely off second hand information here."
"'Do I remember dying?' Ridiculous!" huffs Ent's voice from the grey mist. The bison also sees fit to answer Quick's question with an unhappy grunt. "You're daft! I am talking to you, aren't I? Do not the dead go to feasting halls or lakes of fire or some such? Nay, I am here in this thick morning fog; the sound of your horses is what woke me."
Quick shrugs to his companions. I'm out of ideas...
"Who is the enemy? What banner do they bear?"
"The giants, obviously. Led by that terror, the worst of the Fjerntblik. But we did not happen upon a common hill giant or ogre. It was him, waiting for us. Obsid himself..." Firko Ent trails off, sounding distraught at the memory of the battle.
"It makes no sense. The Unburnt was keeping him at the marshes. No one can travel that far in a day, not even on horse."
"Fjerntblik" in Dwarven literally means "distant glance".
"Giants," Henry Southgard repeats.
"I can't quite recall who the Unburnt are, but perhaps Obsidian merely outran them? Giants can't hardly ride horses, but their stride is easily a match for the fastest horse breeds."
Didn't I just read something about 'the Unburnt'?
The hardy folk of the Urlghain Highlands are known to have a bloody history against hill giants and ogres, but at best, those conflicts are too sporadic, informal, and disorganized to be considered a "war". The oversized brutes could hardly be expected to march in rank and file, and the hill giants would be even worse off.
Neither Obsid or the Unburnt ring any bells in the mercenary's memory, but he does recall a dwarf who claimed that some one-eyed giants could glimpse into the future. He wonders if the Fjerntblik clan refer to cyclops, but that wondering might be his mind grasping for a connection.
"Eor Pettiking?" Quick asks, raising his voice for Ent to hear. "That “the Unburnt”?"
"Of course! Do you know another who has slain a dragon with nary a singe?" Firko calls back.
"There hasn't been a dragon in these parts for thousands of years." Henry Southgard says. "Let's hope we can keep it that way."
"Distant glance," Henry thinks. Giants were, by their nature, able to see far. It was a colloquialism. He'd heard scholars talk of standing on the shoulders of a giant, and the seven watchtowers to the northwest of Lucien were called the "Seven Giants" by the city watch. But to the giants themselves... farsightnedness wouldn't be remarkable. If it was a name granted by the giants themselves, it would mean the foresight or vision of a true leader, or a gift for divination.
Come to think of it, weren't the Cyclops rumored to able to see the future?
"You say that these giants were led by a cyclops?"
"Tell me of the Unburnt! How did he fight the dragon? What tactics?" Quick blurts, ignoring all else.
"Perhaps it's time that we just move one to our original mission...this is leading us nowhere." Vylyra suggests to the group.