Mr. Smythe does not seem the least put off by Sylvia's admonitions. He takes one of the sandwiches and eats it without enthusiasm.
Jerry and Trina scout ahead. The dry soil and blighted vegetation make finding the tracks easy. It is apparent that a man that could easily have been the constable used this trail to make his way into the wood. There are no return tracks.
On close inspection, the trees of the wood take on a twisted, sinister character. A deep, thick darkness seems to entwine itself among the branches.
"Well, it means no-one has left the forest." Jerry adds logically; "No fawns, trappers or horrible monsters. And no water course nearby."
Slowly he moves back to the group to inform them of the progress. "Between Caladrel and I, we can do the scouting. See where the constable went. Bring you horses at your own risk." he adds taking a small sip of water, tasting arid in his mouth.
Trina kneels in the dusty forest floor, looking to get a closer inspection of the plantlife. She's curious primarily if these have the same "drained", "hollow" look and feel to them as the grain in the Smythes' fields, or if within the forest the blight has a different visible effect.
"Montru al mi magio," she murmurs, an incantation opening her eyes to the weave of magic in the area. If there's any aura to the blight or the darkness in the immediate vicinity, perhaps it might provide further clues.
To Trina, the trees of the forest seem to be under the same effect as the plants of the pasture, but their bulk and heartiness keeps them from crumbling entirely. Their leaves are all but gone, however.
Trina does not see any magical auras. It seems that the plants themselves are not enchanted.
After Smythe has mechanically eaten his sandwich, Sylvia lays the long leather straps of the pony's reins in his hand and puts her nose nearly touching his as she gives him slow, intense directions. "Right, good. We'll go on from here. You go back home. Get your wife and daughter. Put them on the pony. Go to Lord Wallingham's. Got it?" The little brown pony regards the man with dull little brown eyes, jaws worrying the bit between its teeth.
Sylvia checks the straps on the mule's packing and joins Jerry, Caladrel, and Trina in the dim eaves of the woods, tugging Chanticleer's halter with less force than usual. The mule seems depressed by its surroundings, head and tail drooping as it obediently follows Sylvia. She looks around with some discomfort. "We're ready to move on. Seems silly to stop for lunch in this," she snaps, kicking a nearby weed, which crumbles to dust. "But whatever keeps you all happy. Let's go."
Uneasilly she moves into the dying wood, the hoary countryside devoid of nutrition Luce is glad of the taste of the meat pie that still lingers softly - the last whispers of a dream. 'Best go help the human...'
With a silent cautious pad she moves forward to the forest, with a little sniff and a lick of her dark lips she turns to the mule. 'Oh that's no mule, smells like poultry, they too small to eat.' The feline turns away from Sylvia's pack animal and knocks into Jerry's thigh.
The noble reaches into the pack upon her back and takes out a shimmering chain shirt and a silken shirt over a soft padded undershirt. Without any self-consciousness he strips off his high quality shirt. In the dappled light of the forests edge, pale sun slides across the thick strap muscles of his torso. Deep and intricate tribal tattoo's are inscribed upon it, at once both pictographs and seeming to tell a tale. However he slips his armour smoothly over the bare flesh, covering it.
The lioness follows as Jerry takes the lead moving further into the forest, following the trail. At every watering place, or every mile or so - he will check for tracks of the constable or any nasty of the forest.
"Scouting ahead is a good plan Mr. Roberts. I will change into a bird and scout from above to give us a better view of what we are up against. Also, if I encounter any eagles, I can inquire with them about what they have seen. It must be a great evil to be able to twist such majestic trees into such sinister shapes."
Caladrel, begins a short chant in language unknown to the others and then his body quickly begins to morph. His size shrinks and feathers form across his body...
...an eagle looks up at the group from the positin on the ground where Caladrel was standing. With flap of its wings, it takes off from the ground, circles for a moment before heading off in the direction of the trail.
Caladrel the eagle looks for signs of the constable or any eagles that he may try to speak to during his flight.
"He was a bird the whole time?" Rhodes slaps his head, obviously not listening.
"Well he did seem like a flighty fellow." Jerry quips trying to relieve the tension as they pass through the heavy woods. He nods to Sylvia at the compassion shown to the poor farmer.
The daylight quickly turns to darkness as the party passes beneath the canopy of trees. Bare and blighted as they are, the thick and twisting branches of the trees still cast a deep shadow over the forest floor below. The few bits of ground vegetation - ferns and the like - are afflicted in the same manner as the pasture, their pale fronds crumbling to dust at the merest touch.
The constable's tracks lead onward, staying close to the game trail.
The pair walk cautiously across the afflicted ground looking around to see any signs of the constable. "We have any other plans, other than following the constables tracks? We should find a water-source, maybe the disease source."
Trina rises and follows after the lead pair, scowling slightly at the lack of information she was able to gather and dismissing the magical sight.
"If we follow the tracks, they should lead to whatever lured him into the wood, or whatever he came to find," she replies, scanning about for trouble. "At least, in theory."
"Aye, unless some tinkers setting a false trail to ambush us." Jerry adds with a slight shrug, seemingly confident in his own ability to deal with brigands. His eyes glance to the sky, surprised by Caladrels' power to turn into a bird. Having seen it amongst the shamans' of his adopted tribe, he knew it was possible but only for the powerful. In the one simple action, Caladrel drew even more respect from the cavalier.
Caladrel flies onward, fighting the mixture of sadness and anger welling inside him as he sees how nature has been twisted in such a horrible way. What powerful evil can do such a thing to this forest? And it is still here, draining what remaining life is still present. We must be wary but undeterred against such a force. It cannot be allowed to spread.
"Maybe we find something we can bomb," Sylvia suggests, all her senses alert in this strange environment.
His head whips around to look at Sylvia, trying to tell if she's joking. A startled look upon his face, he closes his mouth though his eyes are like saucers. 'Where in jiggery did Lord Wallingham find her? There circles are slightly different."
As you follow along the trail, keeping to the tracks left by the constable, you hear a feeble man's voice coming from the wood up ahead, just off the trail. "Do I hear voices? Does someone approach?" It is an older man's voice, weak and failing.
"Stay there, we've come to help you." Jerry calls boldly his cultured tones loud in the hushed forest. After a quick glance at the others and placing a hand to stop Luce, he moves forward towards the voice. 'Hasn't he been here a while?' he wonders, a split second of doubt creeping in before his boisterousness takes over.
Trina follows at Jeremiah's heels, knowing if anyone is alive out here healing may be an immediate must. She leaves the wand grasped in her tail, however, and keeps her weapon in hand instead; she doesn't yet trust this forest not to play tricks on the group.
"Wait, there's something moving in the leaves, there." Sylvia points to the area where she heard the noise, other hand going automatically to one of her flasks.
Jerry stops abruptly, disturbing the grass at his feet. He puts a hand forward - pointing and whispers; "That way." His other hand goes to his sword hilt, then looks to Luces' saddle where his weapon rests. Giving a small shrug, he steps forward.
Trina likewise pauses, then turns her attention toward the way both point, and follows with weapon at the ready.
As those of you on the ground investigate the source of the movement among the undergrowth, you see a glimpse of a long, worm-like creature that almost looks like a humanoid's entrails. The nearby voice says, "Please help me. I can't walk."
Jerry's compassion gets the better of him at the pitiful voice and he reacts quickly. 'That poor fellow is in danger...'
As you near to investigate the source of the call, the vile worm-like creature stretches up from the undergrowth. Where the voice originated, there is nothing. You have been fooled.
The many-tentacled horror spotted by Caladrel in the trees stretches out and prepares to ambush you from the other side of the path.
Rhodes
Thing 1
Trina
Jerry
Thing 2
Smitty
Caladrel
Sylvia
The feline looks around the area, her nose twitching at the stench. Whiskers pulled back to her face.
Rhodes moves to area P-27, drawing his rapier as he goes. When he gets there he fights defensively as a standard action.
Rhodes glances to Trina, "A cousin of yours?"
The string of entrails rises into the air and launches itself at the nearest target: Jerry. A foul, inhuman sucker at one end tries to latch itself onto the cavalier.
With a direct hit, the foul thing attaches itself to what little of Jerry's flesh is exposed, despite his armor. It promptly begins to drain him of blood.
Trina
Jerry
Thing 2
Smitty
Caladrel
Sylvia
Rhodes
Thing 1
"Oof" Jerry says as the coils wrap around his torso and crushes him.
He manages to push the slippery heavy coils away, just enough to get a breath. "Attack!" he calls to his feline friend.
Seeing her friendly human entwinned and smelling the blood in the air, she moves forward to rip at the flesh of the serpent.
Trina squares her stance and swings the glaive overhead, bringing the silvery weapon down in a brutal slice toward the monstrosity's bulk. As she does, she studies the creature's twisting anatomy and, should the weapon strike true, the contents of its innards, hoping to glean some decisive information on its nature from matching its appearance and tactics to the stories she's heard in the past.
As Jerry frees himself from the foul slug's grip, his leonine companion lunges in to attack, creating a savage gash with her claws. Trina steps up and hacks at it with her glaive, cutting deeply into the foul creature.
The many-tentacled abomination climbs down from the tree and makes its way across the ground, undulating violently as it does so. Its movement is rather slow.
The tentacled creature is a decapus. They have some facility at illusion, which may explain the origin of the voice you heard.
What either of these creatures would be doing in a forest is beyond you. They are denizens of the remote depths beneath the world. You can only speculate that something foul drew them here.
"It's vulnerable to salt," she announces, slinging excess gore off her blade as she re-establishes her stance for another strike. "And alcohol, if anyone has either to spare. Careful of the other, it can conjure up illusions; keep your wits about you!"
"Gadzooks, I could do with a drop of red too. A nice burgundy, pity it doesn't travel too well." Jerry gasps as the blood runs down his shoulder from the heavy wound.
"It's a shame I didn't load Bessy with rock salt," Smitty says as he takes careful aim at the creature next to Jerry.
"It's a shame I didn't load Bessy with rock salt," Smitty says as he takes careful aim at the creature next to Jerry.
With a blast of Smitty's firearm, the gutslug twitches and falls to the ground lifeless.
Caladrel
Sylvia
Rhodes
Trina
Jerry
Decapus
Smitty
"Or overwhelming force, that works too!" Trina acknowledges with a triumphant laugh.
Sylvia jumps at the report of Smitty's firearm, blinking at the results with some astonishment. "Guh," she says to the result as she skips around the party members between herself and the shambling horror, drawing a flask from her bandoleer. Her nimble fingers make short work of dropping in the tiny activation vial, then she recaps the flask and hucks it in the direction of the approaching creature, warily watching both it and the adjacent lioness.
Seeing that his compatriots have things well in hand, Caladrel flies up above the Decapus and circles, keeping an eye out for anything else that may try to attack.
Rhodes grimaces at the sight of the worm burrowing into Jerry, glad it is no longer doing whatever it was doing to him. He steps to O-26, using the brush to conceal his movement in hopes the tentacled beast comes close enough to attack with his rapier.
plus any modifiers from cover/concealment if any.
Readied action attack roll (in case it moves in):
if applicable.