"Ah well. I suppose every night can't be a feast! What? At least we're high and dry in this recently vacated, if slightly aromatic, cave. As opposed to being down there, where we started." He points to the storm outside.
"All in all, not a bad days work I'd say?!" He does indeed say, with a big smart-aleck grin.
Invigorated by their victory (and the spoils to go with it) the party sit out the storm safe in their cave. When they emerge the following morning, the thunder has blown over but the sky is filled with broken white cloud scudding swiftly in the strong wind. It is also noticably cooler.
"When we map this area... we should call this rotten pool cave..."
forage
"Seconded." Says Marc, shuddering in the chill morning air. Or at the thought of the pool,...
"Rotten Pool Cave sounds about right. With a bit of cleaning, though, it'll make for a great forward base for scouting."
"Sorry about the ham."
The group travels south-west down the northern bank of the Shrike, continuing their usual mapping and exploration. After last night's storm, the river is high and surges along, tossing the occasional broken branch in its flow. The valley is gentler now, cutting a course through the plain. Willows on either side trail their weeping fronds in the water, which swirl in the strong current like green tresses. The first stray leaves of autumn are blown in the stiff breeze together with swarms of floating, downy seeds. The tall weeds in the riverside undergrowth are beginning to yellow and slump, as if resigned to the coming frosts that will turn them black and brittle.
After the encounter with the ogres, the adventurers are alert. But no further danger presents itself that day, and they make camp that evening.
"At least we had an uneventful day... not sure I could stand another ogre cave..." to Sefra "It smelled almost as bad as Marc's cologne after he stocks up at town..."
Sefra snickers at the comment.
"I'll take first watch. I so adore the sunset...."
Marc assumes a hurt expression. He lightly tugs at the collar of his shirt and sniffs it warily.
"That's not cologne." He states, head held high. "It's my natural musk."
"That woman swore it would attract the ladies,..." He mutters.
Catching Marc's reply.... Terra chortles "Oh it did all right... but we just left her in a cave... I suppose it's impossible to tell the difference between an attacking and amorous Ogre"
*loud guffaw*
"So, maybe we wouldn't have had to fight them if... Nah, let's not go there."
Marc sniffs again, holding his chin up.
"I sincerely doubt there IS much difference between an attacking and Amorous Ogre." He replies coolly.
"At least not enough of a difference to risk getting 'love nips' from six-inch tusks!" He adds fervently. With only a faint hint of a shudder.
"I'll take last watch." He says, stretching out on his bedroll and deliberately changing the subject.
"Sunsets are lovely. But I prefer the sunrise." He smiles.
"I suppose Sefra and I will divide up part of the night afterall elvish eyes are better suited for the dark"
"I'm happy to fill in where needed. Though I'd prefer near the beginning or near the end. My mother's blood means I don't need nearly as much 'beauty sleep' as Marc!" Hasren chuckles.
Marc purses his lips, reaches out with one hand, picks up a small stone, and casually chucks it vaguely in Hasren's direction.
"Beauty rest is under-rated. Don't knock it till you try it. It does wonders for your love life!" He smirks.
"I can honestly say, I've never had to beat off a woman with a spell blast before!" He adds wryly.
... I've never had to beat off a woman ...
"My nightvision is OK. I'll take a mid-night watch."
The night passes uneventfully.
The following morning, the explorers continue downstream . The river turns, first west, then south, then west again. The land rises on either side, a plain of boulders and dark green thickets. The pace of the river quickens, its dark waters now rushing onwards.
The reason why soon becomes apparent. Some ancient upheaval lifted this section of the Kamelands abruptly upwards, leaving a cliff that bisects the plain in a ragged line running north-west to south-east. But the river ignores the faultine and simply erupts over the cliff and down fifty feet to a foam-filled pool. It then blithely continues on its way, sweeping between shingle-covered banks and willow stands.
From the this vantage point, the course of the river can be seen for several miles. The land below the cliff seems gentler, and across the grassland, in the distance, looms the woodland of the Narlmarches. However, following the river is easier said than done - the cliff effectively blocks passage westwards.
At the top of the cliff, beside the river, sits a cairn. Emerging from the top, perhaps six feet tall, is a staff surmounted by a large skull.
"Heh. That's a manticore skull, if I'm not mistaken. Who would have left that here?"
Dungeoneering
nature
perception
danged if I know.
"Hm? What skull? Oh, that? Sort of looks like a weird cow, doesn't it?" Says the city boy, pulling his gaze away from the fantastic drop next to them.
nature
percep
forage
"Hmm manticore interesting, that's a Centaur tribe territory marker... and I see recent hoof prints.... does anyone know if they are friendly? I'm not from this area so I don't know alot about the local history"
Sefra calmy accepts Terra's observations. "You have always been better at spotting things than me."
"Centaurs? Wonderful! I've never met a centaur. More locals to welcome us with open arms!" Marc says cheerfully, and apparently straight-faced.
"None of that jabber makes any sense to me. I say less manticores in the world the better."
"The tracks appear to be fairly recent, but that's about all I can tell you now." Hasren says apologetically.
"Unfortunately, I spent most of my time in the region closer to civilization & haven't heard much about the centaurs. All I have heard is that there are centaur tribes out to the east, but that's about it. Give me time to talk to people & I'm sure I could find out about the centaurs, but seeing as there are none about..." Hasren shrugs.
The travellers stare over the cliff, considering which way to go next. Their goal still lies further down-river.
"Wish I had wings. This is a great view." He says with admiration, idly kicking a loose pebble over the edge.
"Watch that first step though. It's a doozy."
"Do we have enough rope to try and climb down? Or are we going to have to find another way?" He muses aloud, saying what the others are probably thinking.
"It's a nice view but not getting us any closer to the Stag Lord, let's find a way down or around"
Unwilling to risk a river-crossing, the travellers strike north along the cliff. The view is panoramic, aiding greatly in mapping the area .
percep
"We have company coming this way.... Centaurs running at a gallop.."
"Hm? Wonderful, Maybe THEY know where this so called 'Stag Lord' hides out? A little information would be a big help." Marc says with a smirk, shading his eyes to look in the direction Terra is pointing.
"OR, they could try to turn us into a new territory marker. Bets gentlemen?" He adds in a lower voice, almost a grumble, but still smiling.
"Skulls on stones, manhourses, I'm going to go with territory marker... maybe let Hasren try to talk to them though..."
"We have some options, it looks like they are a mile away, there is a cliff behind us, we could potentially outrun or evade them... or we could try and cross the river to the south... If they just want to talk running may be a problem, but if they have nefarious intent... I say we get to the cliff and use that so they can't circle us"
"How many are there of them?"
"I'll be happy to chat a bit with 'em. Of course, it won't hurt to do it from a defensible position..."