Sorry, just had an incredibly hectic couple of days
"Fenwick is indeed the man I was meeting with and it appears that he is the one being chased."
Feeling something in his pocket, he scans a piece of paper and his eyebrows shoot up. "You lot go ahead, it appears that I have other business to attend to first. Take Nightsong with you, and I should be able to catch up with you."
"I think we should follow this 'path'. It seems as if whoever was being chased was purposefully guided here. And was grabbed at this point. I think this 'path' in the snow may have been formed by some kind of sled. It looks like the bugs have dispersed, having fulfilled their job. Definitely seems like sprite mischief."
Donnie wanders the short way into the forest and stands underneath the tree Bronx pointed to and squints up at the satchel as best he can, from underneath it. It has a strap, is maybe five or six inches across, and wedged where the base of a branch grows from the trunk of the pine tree in question. It's difficult to get a view of it from below, and given the dark nature of the satchel, Donnie can't make out if it's blood-stained or not. The satchel is fifteen feet off the ground, so someone's going to need to do some tree-climbing or have a clever idea if you want a closer look at it.
Edit:
Nightsong, by the way, is Davkul's familiar, a small bat. I'll assume that it has flown after you and is now hanging upside down from a branch on the edge of the forest. It will follow you, but won't do anything more, without instructions from Davkul.
Laying aside his shield and stuff, Seebo motions for Nim to come closer to the tree.
"Nim give me a boost, so I can get the sachel down. If it belonged to the halfling it may be a good clue as to what's going on."
You wait, as the minutes tick by. A group of five merceneries in the chain shirts and black tabards of The Company of the Sable Bow arrive, and interview a couple of the gnomes and halflings outside, but the merceneries don't seem particularly eager to leave town to chase up anything tonight. (They're humans- they're employed principally to keep bandits out of the area, not chase after missing halflings or stories of weird 'beetles' or pixies.) They wander off unless Davkul wants to attempt to buttonhole them for any reason. The gnomes and halflings start to drift back inside, some of them disappointed that the humans aren't apparently interested in an immediate response, leaving Davkul alone in the open area to the east outside the boarding house.
Do you want to move around the south side of the boarding house, into the narrower space between it and the adjacent residence where according to the note you're supposed to be, or is there anything else that you'd like to do or check first? Please use spoiler tags for the time being, since the other PCs are now absent and events/information here may have implications for what they are doing.
While I am waiting for my mystery visitor, I am going to stay tuned in to the emotions of Nightsong, staying alert to any indications of danger while he is within the 1 mile range of our empathy link. I will be staying in the alleyway, 5 feet in so that if I need to, I can use my emergency getaway plan (Run around the corner and create a silent image around myself of a non-descript crate once I am out of sight)
After relocating to around the south side of the boarding house, to a position such as you outlined, you wait several more minutes. Then there is a moment where there is a brief disruption in the quality of sound reaching you, before things return to normal. You hear the voice of Fakcal Darkcone, coming from several feet in the air above you; apparently he's employing some sort of flight or levitation magic- or projecting from somewhere nearby. You don't actually see him, although given his specialisation in illusion effects, that's no great surprise. His voice is a lot hoarser than you last recall, and he seems to be occasionally stopping and labouring for breath.
"Davkul? I had a bard cast a widened zone of silence into a spell-storing ring for me, which I have now activated, so you need not fear that we will be overheard. Did I make it here ahead of Fenwick or not? There was one of those Llira damned warped fey trailing him, the last that I knew. Not the regular unseelie-aligned ones, but one of the things it's damned near impossible to hit, let alone injure. Those of us who survived the raids in Waterdeep feared it might be waiting simply to be sure of his destination before striking, but we have been rather distracted with trying to keep our own skins intact to keep more than the occasional eye on him; and we have had no means to check him since we lost the crystal ball two days ago. We were trying to scry something else... and we provoked some sort of countermeasures."
Nim if you want to climb, go ahead. I'll wait here and you can pass the satchel down to me.
But be very careful! We don't want you, or the satchel broken.
Whilst the others are concerning themselves with the satchel, Bronx impatiently studies the strange flattening of the snow, to see if he can make out any further clues about the nature of what made it.
If Bronx makes a DC 18 Survival check (fey bonus does not apply in this circumstance):
Spoiler:
Bronx notices that whatever flattened and squashed the snow like that seems to have come down through the forest, and then gone back in the opposite direction along virtually the same route. If it was a sled or some kind of other heavy object being dragged along on the snow, any creatures towing it seem to have been light-footed to the point where even to turn it around they left no distinguishable marks of their own on the snow.
In the meantime, Nim scrambles up the tree with little difficulty, retrieves the satchel, and heads carefully back down. There don't seem to be any traces of blood on the outside of it.
Bronx is fairly certain by now that he recognises the fur-cap which has been dropped as being identical to the one which he saw being worn by Fenwick.
For the time being, Nim has possession of the satchel (weight approx. 1 lb), although it may not be a good idea, from the impatient looks that Bronx is giving Nim, to stop any further to examine the contents right now. If no one else has done so, I'll assume that Donnie picked up the fur cap, to take a look at, whilst Nim and Seebo were involved with the satchel retrieval. There don't seem to be any signs of blood or other recent damage on the cap.
Occasional flakes of snow continue to drift down from the skies, hissing into steam if they come into contact with the flames of Bronx's torch, and every now and then, from somewhere up within the forest, comes the soft 'plop' of a tree shedding a load of snow.
If you would like to give some thought to marching order, for when you venture into the forest, could you please do so soon, either here or on the discussion thread? If you do not post to indicate otherwise I will be working on the basis that Bronx will be at the front- since he is the best tracker and will get annoyed at other people trampling over potential clues- and that at any given moment, the others of Seebo, Nim, and Donnie will be strung out behind, in a line, in order of whoever posted most recently.
Whilst the others are concerning themselves with the satchel, Bronx impatiently studies the strange flattening of the snow, to see if he can make out any further clues about the nature of what made it.
If Bronx makes a DC 18 Survival check (fey bonus does not apply in this circumstance): ** spoiler omitted **
In the meantime, Nim scrambles up the tree with little difficulty, retrieves the satchel, and heads carefully back down. There don't seem to be any traces of blood on the outside of it.
Bronx is fairly certain by now that he recognises the fur-cap which has been dropped as being identical to the one which he saw being worn by Fenwick.
For the time being, Nim has possession of the satchel (weight approx. 1 lb), although it may not be a good idea, from the impatient looks that Bronx is giving Nim, to stop any further to examine the contents right now. If no one else has done so, I'll assume that Donnie picked up the fur cap, to take a look at, whilst Nim and Seebo were involved with the satchel retrieval. There don't seem to be any signs of blood or other recent damage on the cap.
Occasional flakes of snow continue to drift down from the skies, hissing into steam if they come into contact with the flames of Bronx's torch, and every now and then, from somewhere up within the forest, comes the soft 'plop' of a tree shedding a load of snow.
[ooc]If you would like to give some thought to marching order, for when you venture into the forest, could you please do so soon, either here or on the...
very sound reasoning charles and i agree, if it is ok nim will take rear duty as he does not need any light to see and is most able to cope with being damaged (and because he is the fastest moving he can always get to the front quickly if there is trouble), this also means that there is a warrior type at the front and at the back
nim would rather be at the front but once it is explianed to him, he will see the wisdom of not messing up the tracks
also becuase he can move twice as fast as bronx i think he can open the satchel and keep up
so whats in it?
"Let's go folks, I think I remember seeing the fellow wearing that hat, and he had complained about being hunted by sprites before this. The gods only know what horrible treatment he is recieving now."
Seebo quick to realise that his brother is inquisitive and not always thinking first tells Nim
"Nim, be careful of that satchel, if you're going to carry it and don't open it. It might be magically trapped!"
Spoiler:
Seebo will his place, third in line for marching order
Since Seebo gets his warning in before I have confirmed that the trek is to commence, I'll allow Nim to heed it and leave the satchel unopened. At present, if I understand correctly, Bronx is going to be at the front, Nim at the back, Seebo in front of Nim, and, since it's the only place left for a 'one behind the other marching order', Donnie in between Bronx and Seebo.
The group of gnomes set off into the forest...
After they've been going for several minutes, the sound of a bear roaring, at some distance off, comes through the trees. It roars just the once, and then stops.
Any of Seebo, Nim, Donnie, and Bronx who make a DC 15 Listen check:
Spoiler:
You seem to catch a hint of a faint, mocking, shrill wind sounding at much the same time.
"Well met Fakcal. It seems that you have had a hard time of it too. I met what I assume was one of these creatures not half an hour ago and while I am here, a group of others from the tavern are chasing after Fenwick now, presumably to rescue him from whatever is chasing him. Is there any chance I could recruit your help in helping the poor lad out? Or if not to help me catch up to the rest of those helping Fenwick out?"
"I fear that I might imperil you by prolonging my presence here much longer.", Fakcal replies. "They are hunting me.... all of us who had the temerity to strike back at whatever dirty little schemes they were that Keswick uncovered. They have some almost infallible way to find and track us, I begin to fear. That fop Elminster, named after we all know whom, was almost torn apart in Waterdeep's City of the Dead as he visited his family burial plot, when undead started animating all around him; Some 'force' smashed its way through Jolrund's secluded manor, killing any that stood in its way, and pulling Jolrund himself limb-from-limb- a couple of servants may have seen what did it and survived, but even the most puissant of clerical spells have thus far failed to break through their insanity. And at times I think that there are things... watching... me, from the corners of rooms, or waiting in the shadows. Much of it may be the work of powerful fey illusionists, of course, but I begin to wonder now, at times."
His voice has sunk to a hoarse whisper, and it is with some difficulty that he apparently collects himself to continue to address you.
"If you find or see Fenwick, tell him to use the fourth of the set of feather tokens which his brother gave to him, and then, for all the gods' sakes, to have the sense to stay put for once in his life." He pauses. "Your studies of illusion magic do not preclude you from the use of necromantic spells, if I recall correctly, do they?"
Seebo, Nim, Donnie, and Bronx:
With Nightsong flapping overhead, sometimes ranging out ahead of he party, sometimes falling slightly behind as the bat pauses to snack upon whatever insects might be out and about in these parts at this time of the year, the intrepid group of gnomes resume their passage through the forest. The path of crushed snow and ice which they are following begins to zig-zag, around low rocky crags that protrude from the forest floor, as it steadily wends its way towards the upper reaches of the forest. With increasing altitude, the flakes of snow seem to be falling a little more frequently, occasional patches of mist or low cloud trail through the forest on puffs of wind, and the snow which carpets the forest floor is considerably less likely to show ‘threadbare’ in places than it did down on the outskirts of Deadsnows. Strange distant birdlike calls occasionally echo through the winter twilight of the forest, and the occasional wet thumps of snow being shed from springy conifer branches continue.
Rounding another crag, you catch sight of what seems to be a human male, some five feet tall, dressed in the furs of a trapper with a pair of mountain rabbits slung on a cord around his neck, a small bulls-eye lantern in his left hand and a walking stick in his right, coming this way through the forest from the south. Oddly, whilst you can clearly see the glow of his lantern, it seems to shed little light upon the scene. His head, wrapped in cloths against the chill of a winter night, is bent down, as he makes his way towards you, and he does not seem to have noticed you yet. He is still some sixty feet distant.
The trail of crushed snow and ice snakes further up the ridge, to the west.
Any of Seebo, Nim, Donnie, and Bronx who make a DC 14 Spot check (no ‘fey’ bonus applies in this case):
Spoiler:
You notice that whilst apparently making motions that would normally ‘kick up’ the snow with his stick and feet, he in fact appears to be leaving no tracks.
Donnie:
If you make a DC 16 Bardic Lore check (14 if you made the Spot check):
Spoiler:
You remember a story that the phantom of a trapper who died on the mountains during a winter blizzard over a decade ago is said to sometimes walk the forests about Deadsnows on winter nights when snow lies on the ground, usually on days towards the beginning or end of a month. Whilst taproom gossip holds him to be personally harmless, it is still believed to be an ill omen or a sign of bad luck if he crosses your path.
“When one is being hunted by things that are beyond the limits of one’s knowledge, I have found that it can focus the mind on the subject of one’s mortality wonderfully well.”, Fakcal manages for just a moment to muster a hint of his old dry humour. “If I am to be shortly called to stand before my god, for judgement.... I would prefer that it would be in the knowledge that I had at least made some effort to set my affairs in order.... and make some redress for many of my debts owed, good or bad. I have fond memories of the brief time in which you were the host of a particular Waterdeep establishment. I find that I have recently come by a scroll of a couple of lesser necromantic incantations which I can not use- necromancy being one of the areas of study which I had to shun. I shall leave it here for you.... in case they are of any use.” An unseen hand dusts the snow off the top of a nearby rainwater barrel, and then a tightly rolled scroll appears there.
“We both have other things in urgent need of doing, Davkul- you Fenwick to follow, and I, my pursuers to evade; But I do not know if you will have any later opportunity to gain tidings of what happened in Waterdeep, and I can perhaps indulge one question, or two briefly. If not then I shall depart.”
Seebo, Nim, Donnie, and Bronx:
At first as the trapper comes closer it seems that he has not heeded Bronx, but at last for a moment he looks up and stares Bronx straight in the eyes.
Bronx:
Spoiler:
Looking into the dark and empty pits of those eye sockets, you doubt that you’re looking upon any living creature; in fact Bronx would be prepared to swear that he can see the dim outlines of trees right through the back of the trapper’s translucent head.
“Tch’cghellee llleee.”, the trapper seems to utter, in a voice that is little more than a rasping, sepulchral hiss. “Tch’cghellee llleee. Tch whycchtest birds to feed tcheir might, tch schadows of tchan elchder cghnight, Tch’cghellee llleee.”
He lowers his head and resumes his progression northwards.
Bronx:
If you make a DC 10 Sense Motive check:
Spoiler:
You get the impression that this thing, whatever it is, has just tried to convey a warning of some sort.
The trapper is now some thirty feet distant, and doesn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. His northward course has him currently bearing down on Seebo and Donnie, in the middle of your strung out group.
Nim:
For future reference, if you are using an up to date version of Internet Explorer then (unless you have altered your settings) in your recent history you should be able to locate links to Invisible Castle website pages which have the results of any dice rolls which you made.
"Are there any apparent weaknesses to these things that are chasing you? Are there any typical things I should know to watch out for if I and my friends come under attack from them ourselves?"
"Seebo. Donnie. Move out the way and let this ... fellow pass ... I mean let him go by." Bronx seems a bit disturbed by the fellow, the arm holding the torch is shaking noticably. "I think he means us no harm, but I doubt he can be any help to us."
Seebo looks to Bronx to get going again, and quietly asks him, "what was that all about?".
Bronx will wait for the trapper to be well on his way. "I noticed he wasn't making any marks in the snow. I thought he might be an experienced woodsman, some of them supposably can walk without leaving the faintest trace.
But when he turned to speak, his eyes were 'empty', I could see right through them and see the trees on the other side. He was not of this world. I don't know for certain, but I think he tried to warn us of something, but I couldn't make it out as is often the case with such unnatural beings, or so I have been told.
Best let him be on his way. And we should be on ours and away from this cursed area." Bronx will continue following the trail.
Seebo, Nim, Donnie, Bronx:
The trapper continues on his way, not bothering to look at any of you as he heads on northwards. In the flickering light of Bronx's torch, as the trapper passes between you, it is clear to each of you that there is a certain translucent quality to the trapper, and that neither his walking stick nor his booted feet are leaving any marks in the snow through which they are passing.
The winter night in the forest is cold, but there seems to be a tangible aura of a much greater chill wrapped about the trapper as he passes....
The trapper's northward course is taking him rapidly out of your lines of sight amidst the trees; the path of crushed snow and ice which you have been following climbs westwards, to yet higher slopes of this forested ridge.
With a stern look at the rest of you, Bronx turns to start off west again.
After a pause, Fakcal responds.
“I am no longer certain as to precisely what is chasing me. At first I thought that it was just groups of unseelie fey, most likely aligned to the Church of Midnight.... with some particularly potent illusions and maybe some having taken their devotions.... to the point that they were actually ministers of her church and will. And some of them certainly die as easily as regular fey, falling to a skilled enough caster or the bite of cold-iron. Others seem to just laugh mockingly at such tactics and remove themselves from the vicinity; I used to think that those were but illusions. And then there are things that I sometimes glimpse, out of the corner of an eye.... in that instant of travel if I use any kind of dimensional travel magics overmuch. Things horrible to look upon, that might threaten to overthrow the very reason of a weaker willed mage. That is particularly taxing.... I am uncertain if it is preferable to think that such creatures might be hallucinations of a stressed mind, or that they are creations of something or someone else. I do not know if it is possible to fight such things, if they are not figments of a fevered imagination. I wonder very much if Keswick’s obsession, which he would not explain, that we destroy a printing house, and the fire at Candlekeep half a decade past might not spring from a common source....”
He trails off.
“I apologise that my nerves are not what they once were. I can not bear to linger here much longer. I fear that I may have remained in one place too long and that they are closing in on me. Goodnight to you, Davkul Gladdenstone.”
He does not say anything further.
Davkul is in the space between Mrs. Prestwick’s boarding house, and the adjacent residence to the south. There is a tightly rolled scroll lying on a barrel which has been brushed clear of snow. Davkul is aware that Nightsong is currently somewhere within the forest that cloaks the ridge to the west of Deadsnows, and is not currently displaying any unusual emotional states, except perhaps maybe a touch of mild curiousity about where these people that it has been tasked to follow are going.
It is somewhere between twenty and twenty-five minutes since the others set off.
Seebo, Nim, Donnie, and Bronx:
You follow the path of crushed snow and ice up further through the trees. As you go, the falling flakes of snow become more frequent, and the fingers of cloud more regular, until you lose all sight of the valley behind and below.
Abruptly, through the swirling white, you come upon a broad roughly horizontal ‘shelf’ maybe a dozen feet wide that orientates along a north-south axis in the flank of the ridge, with rocky outcrops facing eastwards from the back of it. Somewhere up above, the ridge continues to rise. The ‘path’ that you have been following ceases to progress westwards, here, instead turning abruptly south to bear along the shelf.
Sprawled motionless on the snow, in a bright pool of blood, is what looks it was once a ferocious dire bear, which in life might have reared up to something approaching fifteen feet in height. There’s something dark, loosely hanging around the remnants of where the head once attached to the body, and a corner of something else dark spread beneath the fallen body.
Lying nearby, the face contorted in one last snarl of defiance, but the eyes glazed over in death, is the bear’s head, which was apparently taken clean off by something.
Several trails with similar characteristics to the one which you have been following, although on a smaller scale- maybe only eight or nine inches across, and less severely impressed into the snow- begin here, at the feet of several trees, and head south, alongside the main ‘path’.
Set at the back of the shelf in a circular indentation in a vertical rock face, which has been chiselled smooth by some agency, is a series of flat yellow-white components, incised with tortuous swirling symbols, which together form the boundary of a circle approximately a dozen feet in diameter. At present, this circular frame seems completely empty, the dark rock into which it is inset visible through it.
Donnie:
If you make a DC 12 Bardic Lore check:
Spoiler:
You identify the circular ‘device’ set into the wall as likely being some sort of magical gate or portal; this particular one looks like it can be broken down into segments for ease of transportation.
Through the swirling cloud and snow, strange bird calls can be heard closer than you have heard before in this forest, and a distant wind shrills and pipes mockingly.
Visibility conditions up here, in the light of Bronx's sputtering torch, are thirty or forty feet at best, owing to the cloud and falling snow.
If you want to take a closer look at anything, indicate that you wish to do so by all means.
The snow up here is an inch and a half deep at least in the places where it remains uncompacted.
Nightsong, Davkul's bat, flutters around for some time, before eventually settling in a tree just north of where the trail you have followed reached the edge of the shelf.
Scanning the surroundings as best he can, looking for a possible ambush Seebo asks
"Bronx, can you tell how long ago that bear died? It may tell us far behind we are and if we're catching up."
"Well I guess I can see if it is still warm. Something this big should be warm for a while even in this weather I would think." Bronx will cautiously approach the dead bear. Before Bronx touches the dead bear he will try to get a better look at the dark areas around where the head should have been and under.
