Slinging his axe on his back, Gryf wince at the pain in his ribs. He grips them instinctively, moving slowly to join his brother and Haru he looks at what she's spotted. "I'll be ok brother, hopefully we find something of use." Moving close he spots the piles of timbers and beings to move them out of the way.
Gryf clears the timbers away from the crate and carries it outside. No undead rise up to take another swing at him.
Opening the crate reveals a ratty linen bundle, stained green and black from time. Unwrapping it reveals:
--1 Masterwork dagger in a steel scabbard. The scabbard looks like it's worth something.
--33 GP in a leather pouch.
--A wooden scroll tube containing two scrolls.
"Best if you try to read those scrolls, Haru. Next time I'll have Read Magic prepped and not feel like a hundred bees are stinging my retina." Valeria said. She may have been exaggerating, but reading that scroll before had stung like hell.
"Oh, thanks for the reminder, Valeria! I forgot that healing scroll. We could use it if Gryf or Friday need further healing. As for these, let me see... I'll have to really take some time on these to figure them out. Why don't we head back to the skiff and I'll work on them while we travel back?"
I don't understand. If this ship is where the skeletons came from, why did they go to the goblin village and where did they go after that? This whole thing is odd indeed.
"The chest came from the ship, maybe they wanted it back... or whatever was in it. That's one way to make the dead rise up, steal their stuff." Friday adds while his mind drifts back to the chest and its contents.
Dragging the box out he plants it in front of Valeria and Haru, then moves back letting them search through the box. "I don't know brother, try and work out why the mindless undead do anything is beyond us.
"Mindless by some dark curse? Or single-minded in their duty as bound guardians? Even the unliving with no wills have reasons for why they came back. They'd stay in the ground otherwise."
Gryf, on the other hand, manages to find a way into the ship's interior through a hole around the back of the ship. He also manages to find some older tracks... these ones are clearly skeleton tracks, but they continue to the southwest of the shipwreck.
"We still have the skeleton tracks leading southwest of the shipwreck, if we're going to get to the bottom of this we should leave no and continue on." He moves to point out the tracks to everyone and point on to where they will head.
If there are more of those things to find then perhaps we should regain our strength. Neither you nor Friday are in good shape, Gryf, and I have no more means to heal you. Unless Haru can further close those wounds I think we should stay here where it is at least relatively dry and head out in search tomorrow. I appreciate that the tracks may have faded by then, but it's the safer course of action.
Haru looks between Friday and Gryf, a frown knotting her brow. "You both look pretty hurt! We've only got the one scroll. Once we're back in town, we'll have to go to the cathedral and get Father Abstalar to make some more before we go out again."
Gryf turns and is about to encourage them to move on but he turns to quickly and feels the broken rib dig into his side. "Ahh... Yes maybe we should rest, i think it's better if we camp here i don't want to waste time heading back to town." He limps back over to the ship and sits leaning against it. "My wounds aren't that bad but a little rest won't hurt." You see a different side to Gryf now he's clearly trying to hide his injuries, but it less bold than he normally would be.
"That is probably wise. I can take the first and last watches." Friday mumbles in thought as he sets about to collect bedding or other covering materials.
The party sets up their campsite at the wreck of the Blossom...
Haru sits and looks away from the fire, singing a low, soft song in Tien, taught to her by her mother. She feels a pull, an urge to explore, that she hasn't felt so strongly in years. A part of her is itching to transform and go running through the trees with the moonlight glinting off her fur, but she knows she can't. These strange ships, with Minkaian writing on them, are unsettling her.
Taking up an only somewhat comfortable spot to rest and take watch Friday's job becomes harder once he hears Haru's singing. With a combination of his wounds and his exhaustion the beautiful foreign words start to lull him into the lands of dreams.
Then the flow shifts, and although he can't understand the words that remain the same it has become a different song to him. "Is everything okay, Miss Haru?" he asks, though a part of him didn't want the song to end, even distorted as it was from its beginning verses.
A part of him also wanted to start painting her while she sang, but that wouldn't make for a very good watchmen unfortunately.
Sitting down he starts to bind some of his wounds and taking long sips of his canten. As he hears Haru softly sing he sighs the song sweat and relaxing it reminds him of his mother, how she would sing him and his brother to sleep. "So all this.." He points to the ship. "All this is from your homeland? I don't know much of Tian, would you tell me? it would take my mind of these wounds."
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"Well, It's from my parents' homeland. I was born here, but, well... it's always been like I was caught between two worlds. Neither here nor there. They've made sure I was brought up in the proper style, I learned the tea ceremonies and the songs and the calligraphy, but my friends were all Varisians. I do know a lot from reading and paintings and stories, though."
"My parents lived in the Northeastern part of Minkai, pretty far from the capital. It is not too different from here -- forests, mountains, coasts -- but of course the buildings, and music, and people are different in the details. My father would go into the Seseragi Forest to speak to the Kami -- spirits of nature. They warned him that trouble was coming to Minkai, and he decided to take a risk for his family to avoid it. They traveled through the forest of spirits, over the crown of the world -- my mother tells me I was conceived not far from the North Pole itself -- and through the Land of the Linnorm Kings. The leader of the Caravan they traveled in was from Magnimar and they thought Varisia sounded like a place they could live happily."
Friday listened on in rapt awe as Haru shared her thoughts and story. While he too knew what it was like to grow up between two worlds for him it was between the world of the living and world of the dead. But he didn't fit into either. Maybe one of the places she mentioned he could find a place for himself in?
"That... is quite a fantastical tale. So many places. And it began at the urging of the spirits? Beautiful." Lost in his thoughts one couldn't be for sure who or what exactly the last words were meant for, though he wanted more than ever to try and paint her again.
Gryf closes his eyes as Haru speaks, her soothing voice relaxing him and he always loved stories of faraway lands.
"Thank you for that Haru, that was quite the story. I always loved to hear tales from my mother and the druids. Where are your parents now? Still in Magnimar?"
"Oh, no, they're in Sandpoint. I guess we don't get out too much, but we're at all the Shelyn festivals. They followed the caravan leader to Magnimar, but found the big city much too separated from nature for their tastes. Having visited there a couple times, I have to agree."
She looks at Friday, who is staring at her in an odd way, and cocks her head, almost like a canine looking confused. "Everything alright, Friday?"
Becoming aware of his faux pas as Haru blatantly points it out to everyone Friday shifts uncomfortably and lowers his head. "My apologies, I was just thinking about... painting you."
Gryf nods at Haru. "They sound very lovely, they raised a brave and lovely daughter." He smiles at Haru, you can tell now the day is finally catching up to him as his eyes star to get heavier as he listens too Haru.
Marten sits quietly by the fire as the others converse, stitching the wounds in his brother and Friday.
"Thank you brother." He nods taking a long drink from his waterskin.
"Yes, thank you Senir." Friday adds.
The rest of the night passes...
-------------------
8th of Gozran, 4715 AR
The dawn is surprisingly peaceful this morning. The skies are clear and the sun shines through the swamp's canopy of trees. Though the ground is still muddied and wet, it should be somewhat easier to follow the skeleton tracks today.
Haru smiles and blushes just a bit as Friday explains his thoughts, and says, "Ah, my father has had me stand as a model for him many times, although many of the paintings are, ah, not for public display. He, well, is very self-critical, you see. I suppose I wouldn't mind at all modeling for you some time."
Not quite catching what was hidden in her words Friday smiles gratefully to the bard. "Thank you, Miss Haru. I will do my best to do you justice."
Marten rises early as is his usual tradition. He adds herbs and various other ingredients to the embers of the fire and breathes new life into it until it churns out thick wisps of acrid smoke.
As the scent infuses him he feel his head begin to swim and he chants in a language older than the sea that receded to create this swamp.
Afterwards, he gathers his gear and picks up the trail of the skeletons once again.
Shall we continue this pursuit?
"Lead on." Friday murmurs as he forces himself back to the world of the waking. Sleeping outside was an odd feeling, but so was the scented fire. He wasn't quite sure if he liked either or not.
Marten shoulders his bag and starts off in the direction of the tracks
Gryf get up as he hears the others break down the camp. Sitting up he takes a large drink of water washing away the drowsiness. "Let's get back on the trail." He then slings his axe back on his shoulder and moves to continue tracking with his brother.
Haru sneezes at the smoke from the fire, and rolls to her feet, looking still tired. She combs her fingers through her hair, trying to get twigs and tangles out of it. "Do I still look portrait-worthy, Fri?" she mutters sarcastically, and gets up to help the others track the skeletal prints.
"Always." Friday chimed serenely. Whether wild or regal he thought she was beautiful, and her shortening his name made him feel... odd. He wasn't used to feeling that way.
Thanks to Haru's & Gryf's efforts, the party picks up the trail once again, following it.
Where rain once pounded down on the leaves & ground, a chilly breeze blows through, *howling* through the trees as the party moves. Xel makes no move to fly from Valeria's hood, instead trying to bury himself as deeply in it as he can. "How long have we even *been* out here, anyway? I'd go for someplace warmer right now. Dammit, I miss that fire already."
The mud and weeds give way to hard, packed earth as the party reaches the southern edge of the swamp. A great cliff looms before you, covered in moss and violet nettles. An opening in the cliff is partially concealed by a curtain of nettles.
The surrounding area is silent.
"This one might be of particular interest to you, Val," she says, handing over the scroll of False Life. "This one... I'm not sure any of us can use it."
Haru draws her bow and puts an arrow to the string. "Who's got a light?"
Gryf looks into the cave, a face of determination washes over him again. Taking out a torch he lights it holding it and his axe. "There's going to be undead in here, we followed them all the way from the goblin camp so keep your eye's sharp. We move fast and taken them down before they can hurt anyone." He looks around at the group then begins to steps into the cave.
Gryf steps forward and through the curtain of nettles.
Several of the nettles stick to his armour, with only a few of them scraping his face.
The entrance to the cave is cold, with condensation forming on the walls. The sandy ground beneath Gryf's feet is littered here and there with pebbles. The sounds of water dripping seem to echo off of the walls deeper inside.
The torch's light flickers in the darkness of the cave, revealing a path that branches off in two directions--a narrow path to the right, and a passage choked with brackish water to the left. The skeleton tracks seem to lead off to the left...
Gryf sniffs the dank air. "A bad place this.." He swings his torch around trying to spot anyone in the darkness. "We follow the tracks." Pointing to the left. "Let's get this done." He then moves forward again axe at the ready.
Marten follows in cautiously. He casts light on a stone and throws it some distance ahead, hoping to illuminate whatever is beyond the nettle screen.
Remember how the other just jumped up.... careful now. he says.
"Can we cut those pokey-plants away?"
Marten scans the gloomy darkness for signs of passage or movement.
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