"Do you know is required to free her spirit?" Yanioths learning of the spirit world was mostly training to defend herself from outside influence...
The man's wild eyes focus in Yanioth's direction as she calls out her question.
"Ah yes, yes, I might, if I can remember. There is still time, there is still time."
Yanioth looks to Harmast, speaking quietly "On the one hand I'd like to see this through, on the other our target seems to get ever further away?"
Harmast sighs quietly and replies in a low voice. "Agreed. I do not like the delay any more than you do, but it is the proper thing to do. Be wary though. We still do not know who actually killed this woman. It is not impossible that it might have been our new friend here."
Vasana squints at the man from atop her bison, nodding as the features remind her of someone she ran into some time ago.
"Complete your ritual, Carthalo. It is only proper." she says plainly. Then to the others, "It is unlikely this man killed the woman, look he is mostly blind."
Carthalo looks over his shoulders and checks the sky with wild eyes, seemingly very nervous.
"Yes, yes, let us lay the spirit of the Greydog to rest. We must usher her to Daka Fal, otherwise the Stone Woman might grab her. Too many wild spirits in the badlands, drawn here by the evil, yes, yes, the evil. They are so hungry, the spirits."
The man wanders over to the stone cairn you have made and shakes his head and lets out a high-pitched whine.
"No, no, this is all wrong. She should have been laid with her head to the setting sun, otherwise she begins her journey going backwards. Hmm, well, perhaps we can save this still."
He begins moving the stones about and wanders off to pick some wild plants that grow nearby.
Unless Earth can be leverage by the means of using the actual rock?
"Well... are you sure? I thought the sun should be at her feet - to guide her steps. Or is it at her left hand, to be a shield against the darkness? Or ... oh ..." he trails off, visibly puzzled.
Yanioth may not be familiar with the Greydogs' death customs but she can feel the stone and aid in building a cairn to both leave the body undamaged and withstand the passage of time.
With your help, Carthalo clears a few of the stones off the cairn so that he can get access to the Greydog woman's corpse. He cleans her face and hands using water from a nearby puddle, and combs her hair back from her face.
Once he is finished he sits beside the corpse, drawing numerous mystical runes in the dirty while chanting in a low whisper.
After a short period of time (), a shimmering, bluish form coalesces above the corpse, taking the form of the woman below. She does not speak, but gazes forlornly at the ground, seemingly deep in troubled thought. The spirit's head then jerks up and looks behind her and out into the distance, seemingly searching for something.
Carthalo exhales and whispers to you. "If you wish to talk to her to discover something, do it now. Otherwise I will help her pass from this world. I do not wish for her spirit to be captured by the evil of these badlands."
"Your passing is a mystery to us? Can you tell us what happened?"
Yanioth tells a somewhat mythical story of when all the tribes of the region were united and all helped each other survive in the cold days of the last ice age. She pleads with the ghost not to be caught up in the current conflicts between their peoples, and remember the eternal bond that connects them all. It seems to work ...
After listening to Yanioth's entreaties, the spirits looks up and around and finally fixes each of you with a melancholy gaze. She speaks, her voice sounding like it is coming from a great distance, but also right next to your ears.
"I am Lannike ... no ... I was Lannike, Daughter of Leika of Snorri's Stead, and I am ashamed for what I have done. Forgive me. Although I always followed Danakos' lead, I am not a murderer, and I didn't imagine that he would kill the herders of your tribe. He brought great dishonor to the Greydogs through his actions."
"Has Danakos always been a killer like this, or has something driven him this way?
And how should we remember your death to your family, should we find opportunity to speak of it?"
The spirit continues in a monotone voice. "Danakos was never like this. We, I mean myself, Mitrolar, Desonil, Theydinna, and Varanik went to steal a few head of cattle to earn some fame and status among the Greydogs. We were just going to ambush and tie up your herders. Then Danakos killed them all before we could stop him. After that, there was little we could do, except return home with the cattle. We made a pact that after we were rewarded by their clan chief, we’d return to the Colymar and offer to pay double the life price for those who were killed."
"Just before going to sleep, we confronted Danakos with our plan, and he said he’d watch the cattle and think about it. He woke us several hours later and said that we were to take the herd north, into the woods, a detour from the relatively easy path home. I and the others refused, and the next thing I knew, I was coughing blood, and realized I’d been murdered."
"The next few moments were a blur, and when I became aware of my surroundings once more, the cattle were gone. I tried to return to my village, but something about the nature of the badlands confused and disoriented me, and I have been looking for her kinsfolk ever since. Please, please, put my spirit to rest, I beg of you. I know I have acted dishonorably, but do not condemn my spirit to this evil place. It will surely turn me. Help me resolve the crimes that tie me to this world: stop Danakos, rescue my fellow Greydogs from his clutches, and restore the cattle to your tribe."
"And if you speak to my tribe, tell them my story. Tell them that I meant to make it right."
Carthalo hauls his old bones off the ground and looks at each of you with a pleading expression. "We must help the spirit, or the Stone Woman will corrupt her and use her to torment the living."
Harmast looks at Carthalo quizzically... "How do you suggest we help her?"
Carthalo turns around quizzically to look at Harmast.
"Hmm? What? Oh, how do we help her? Hmm, well, let us ask."
He then turns back to the image of the spirit and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Oh spirit of Lannike, you who would travel across the mists of death to reside eternally with you ancestors, how may we guide your journey? What ties you to this place, keeping you from leaving?"
Lannike's phantom grows still, as she looks out across the plains and then up into the highlands to the north. She lifts a finger and points it at the hills.
"Go after my companions and rescue them from Danakos' clutches, and bring justice to my murderer. Once you have done this and returned the cattle that we unlawfully stole, my spirit will be at rest."
She then turns her unearthly gaze on everyone assembled before her.
"Will you do this for me so I may be at peace? I know it is much to ask of you who are not of my tribe."
Yanioth speaks up, "While we may often be in conflict, there should still be honour between us. We are still of the same people. We will do as you ask."
The spirit bows low and the hint of a smile momentarily graces her face.
"I thank you, Lady, and am honored by your willingness to sacrifice on my behalf. I hope it will strengthen both our tribes."
She then points to a small, egg-sized rock stained with her blood on the ground. "I will wait by the gate. Throw it on the ground when you have achieved your successes and are done, and I will come."
Without another word, the spirit dissipates like morning fog, and the first drops of rain begin to fall from the clouds above.
The half-naked old man carefully levers himself up from the ground, staring up at the sky.
"Well, that's all taken care of! Looks like a bad storm might be brewing, though. Good luck with everything, and try not to get too wet!"
Harmast stands staring at the sky. "Well, it would seem that our tasks are increasing day by day. And as our old friend says, there is a storm coming. We should probably be about our business. I suggest our first task should be finding somewhere to shelter from the storm."
And with that he goes over and starts making ready his zebras.
Yanioth picks up the stone and pockets it.
"We should head towards the hills, there's likely to be more shelter over there."
Hearing your concerns about the storm, Carthalo stops and turns around as he is heading away.
"Well, I don't have much, but you have proven yourself to be champions of the dead and of tradition. I would be happy to share my meager accommodations with you, if you like. They're not much to look at, but my hut will keep the rain off your head; well, depending on where you sit, that is."
Yanioth nods to the others, "It is that or rest in the cold. We are grateful for your hospitality."
Cathalo nods and hobbles off at a slow pace, heading down the hillside. Forty minutes or so later (you could have traveled a lot faster on horseback, but had to slow down to match the old man's pace) you arrive at a small hovel tucked into a small gully to protect it from the wind. Two tall plane trees grow next to it along with a small trickle of water flowing from a nearby stream.
On the way over you notice a variety of warding runes and old glyphs inscribed and painted onto the ground, rocks, and into the trunks of the few trees in the area, living or dead. Also present are the signs of Daka Fal worship.
The hut itself is a small, stone-walled shack set against the side of the gully. Inside his hut is a bewildering clutter of pieces of pottery and cultural detritus, animal skulls and bones, colored stones carved with runes, bundles of dried and drying herbs, and the like. Items hang from the ceiling by twine or leather cords, but despite the chaos, the place is relatively clean. The shack is heated with a large fire-pit.
"Hey, there, tall people, will you make a fire while I get some provisions together? I've got some dried lizard meat around here somewhere that hasn't gone completely green yet, I think."
Harmast dismounts from his Zebra and looks around warily. His armor creaks slightly as he sees to his two Zebras, ensuring they are properly tied off while running an eye over the weapons and other equipment stored on the second beast.
That done, he looks about for the old man's store of firewood and sets about lighting the fire.
Yanioth settles down, helping with the fire.
As you make the fire, Cathalo rummages around his drafty cabin looking for ingredients. He also picks up an earthenware pot that he fills with water from a pitcher he keeps filled near the entrance. Several of the ingredients going into the pot look like they are well past their usability, but that does not seem to bother the hermit, who tunelessly whistles to himself as he works.
The fire quickly raises the temperature in the cabin, giving some reprieve from the growing wind and rain outside. Cathalo hangs the cooking pot from a hook attached to a rope hanging from the ceiling, and moves the burning logs directly under it, dropping in several roots and herbs.
In a short while he presents each of you with a spoon to help yourself to the root gruel in the pot accompanied by strips of salt- and herb-dried lizard meat. He smiles a toothless grin and bids everyone to dig in.