Moira nods. "We could head back to town, or we could try to find a good place to camp."
"We need ta wait ta see the moon, says Selja. "That's when Gus saw the ghost, don't forget."
"Let us camp nearby, then. Away from the muck and the damp. Ew," Liamae says with a resigned sigh.
It is only an hours distance back to town, but in order to recreate the circumstances of ol’ Bert’s tale, you decide to camp out at the edge of the Old Fishing Holes. Do you take any precautions to keep yourself safe out in the woods at night?
Moira shakes the Chill Touch out of her sword before loading a fresh cast into the blade.
"We should sleep in shifts. Campfire or no, do you think?"
"I don't much need a campfire, and I'm sure moonlight helps Liame a bit. Maybe try ta stay hidden while we wait."
If Selja has any idea when the moon will rise, she will try casting Barkskin on Fenchurch a bit before then.
Tonight is a waning gibbous moon, meaning the moon rises a few hours after sunset. As the moon climbs higher and higher, the quiet in the forest deepens, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. Soon, straws are drawn and watches set.
During Túrante‘s watch, something happens.
In the morning, as camp is being broken down, Selja realizes her Scroll of Comprehend Languages has gone missing.
Going through her inventory in the morning, Selja is surprise to find a scroll missing! "Swear I had that, couldn't've just lost it. Maybe somethin' took it from me?"
Selja looks for some sign of tracks.
Selja swears she sees the tracks of a large bird in the earth around her stuff.
"Yeah--so there's some bird tracks here, see? Ugh. Pretty weird for a wild bird to steal a scroll, so maybe someone's pet?"
Selja sees if the tracks can be followed or if the bird flies off.
Túrante cleans up in the morning, stifles a yawn, and finishes taking down her sleeping arrangements, then steps over to look in on the tracks.
"Pretty sneaky. And clever enough to go rooting through things for something valuable. Intelligent, or a familiar, or a shapeshifter, perhaps."
A single figure stands hunched over a cauldron brewing over the fire. They are hidden under a heavy cloak. A raven sits on their shoulder, emitting the occasional caw as it ruffles and preens its feathers.
Moira grimaces. "Yep, Selja... the witch has a raven familiar. I still can't help but feel that anyone who is so good with birds must not be all bad... but then I remember. I've met some pretty awful birds in my travels."
"Aha! Then we're on the right track. Even if the bird can fly, the witch may have been walking. We just need to pick up the trail."
Selja sees if she can find witch trails better than she can detect bird trails. .
Túrante Is correct in surmising the tracks could belong to a big raven, but there is something unnatural about its seeming cunning and intelligence. Looking about the area, suspicions are confirmed when the Princess finds an oily black feather not a few yards away. However, the tracks vanish outside the camp. Makes sense that a bird would prefer flight as it’s mode of travel.
Working on a hunch, Selja expands the search back into the marshy field around the Old Fishing Holes. There, she finds something unexpected, something missed the evening before, overlooked due to the attack of the dragonfly. There are some drag marks through the muddy soil, although already several days old. They lead toward the river. Alongside the drag marks are the tracks of a Large Humanoid Creature.
Following these tracks to the river, they seem to disappear into the water, however, not before meeting up with some other footprints along the muddy shore. These are cloven, bipedal, and they follow along the riverbank heading east.
"Shall we?"
Moira starts following the tracks... realizes that she knows nothing about tracking... starts following the trackers.
"Curious. A large person and a biped with cloven hoofs... ogre? Troll? Meeting a... tiefling? Satyr? Hard to say so far," says Túrante once the next set of tracks are discovered. "Let's keep going and see what we can find."
Traveling along the riverbank proves difficult, as there is no real road or trail to follow. However, Fenchurch seems to be having an easy time of it, moving through the dense underbrush without impediment. She takes point.
She is able to track the cloven footed creature successfully along the riverbank. A couple hours into the journey, you come across the familiar piers and road which you know will lead back up to Belhaim, but Fench is able to pick up the trail on the other side.Soon after crossing the piers, you come to the mouth of a creek spilling into the Verduran Fork. Selja knows this is Rogue Creek, which marks the eastern border of the town. You continue on, and a few more hours pass hacking your way through the wild forest.
The journey is uneventful.
Until at about high noon you reach another creek bed spilling into the river. This creek is mostly dry, with just a tiny rivulet trickling through its sandy bottom. To your, perhaps, surprise, this confluence is well trekked. Many tracks seem to come and go from this spot, traveling up and down the dry creek bed, and most seemingly vanishing into the river.
As you step out into the creek bed, a high pitched, squawking voice calls out from the treetops, "Halt! Trespassers! State your business with the One True Queen, or else be cursed where you stand! Ca-caw!"
Moira, always one to try talking before stabbing, tries again--even though they've been down this road before. "Hello again, most impressive of magical corvids! Please tell the Queen that we would like to finish our talk after it was so unfortunately interrupted by our trigger-happy friends last time we met... We need to avoid conflict between the Queen and the town. We're willing to fight the Crimson Bow hobgoblins if it can mean a truce between our peoples."
"Eh?"
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Wait, what about my magical scroll? thinks Selja. Fortunately, she's wise enough to hold her tongue, letting the far more charismatic moirologist communicate her proposed truce.
The voice suddenly seems to emanate from directly behind Moira, although no creature appears, "Caw! Truce? You come to join the Queen's army? The likes of you are more like food for her soldiers. I, myself, would enjoy pecking at your dead flesh. Slightly fermented eyeballs are especially tasty, ca-caw! But, I may as well let you pass if you pay me a toll. You have magics upon you, this I know. What do you offer me? A wand? Hmm, another scroll? A bubbling potion? Tell me before I kill you and feast on your bloated corpse, caw!"
"So you admit to stealing the scroll," says Túrante.
Moira grins. "Try me, jerk. Test me, chicken. We'll see who ends up spiced and grilled, jerk chicken."
She walks towards the voice, dagger in hand and magic crackling at her fingertips.
As Moira steps into the clearing at the mouth of the trickling creek, a flash of green light appears in the treetops overhead. A large raven sits in the branches, eyes aglow with an eerie green light, talons clutching Selja's missing scroll. It squawks, "Caw! If you will not submit to my more than gracious request, I have no choice but to summon my GAURDS! CAW! CA-CAW!"
Before anyone else can act, a creature rises out of the river, a giant with green, scaly skin and gills on its neck.
It hurls a pointy stick at Moira.
Moira is scratched deeply, but it could have been worse.
"A witchcrow, are ya? Aerial pocket witch? Thought I got lucky and found the queen's familiar. Oh well."
"OW! What the hecks is that thing in the water?"
Moira, regaining her aplomb, grins viciously, "Good luck flying when you can't see, jerk chicken."
She moves directly towards the witchcrow and casts Blindness (DC 16 Fort) on it.
The witchcrow’s eyes flash with green light as it overcomes Moira’s blinding spell.
"Caw! Loyal servant of the Queen am I! Ca-caw!"
Selja doesn't recognize any of the foes, but the large greenskins in the water certainly seem suspicious. She prays and a blinding flash of light envelops the water!
"Hey! Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?" Liamae shouts as the giants emerge. She steps up to Fenchurch and lays her gloved hands on the knight's back, channeling transmutation energy into her and causing her to double in size. "Go get 'em!" she says encouragingly.
The half-submerged giant roars out:
As he covers his eyes, but it's too late. He blinks and lashes out blindly.
The other, being under the water still, is only dazzled.
Fenchurch nods at Liamae, saying something like "A girl can get used to this!"
Túrante advances into the bog water to face down the scrags, or whatever they are, sword held in a defensive posture.
Túrante jumps into the water and finds it quite deep. At the water's edge where she is, she's about knee deep already.
Fench follows Túrante into the drink, enlarged axe in hand. As big as she is now, she's knee deep too.
The witchcrow flashes its green eyes at the enlarged Fenchurch, squawking "Unfortunate soul, failure is your doom, ca-caw!"
The stalwart woman barely manages to shake off the hex.
The second giant pops up out of the water, javelin in hand. The most obvious target is Fench, but she takes an opportunity of the opening.
It manages to survive the blow and throws its pointy stick.
The stick bloops into the water after bouncing off her banded mail.
The blinded giant, hearing enemies splash into the water, gropes out blindly.
He fails to locate a target, and so ducks back underwater.
"Quiet, you!" Liamae snaps at the mouty crow. She fires a ray of fire at it!
Liamae fries some yardbird. The witchcrow flaps its wings angrily in the treetops, "I'll get you my pretty! Ca-caw!"
Moira looks jealously at the blinded sea-monster-man. "Nice shot, Selja! I'll give it another try."
She casts Blindness on the Witchcrow! Again!
Moira casts her spell and can see the green light in the witchcrow's eyes blink out. The bird cries "Ca-caw! The world's gone dark! The end is nigh! Ca-caw!"
Túrante grits her teeth and takes a step and a swing at the kneeling giant.
Moira yells out, "That blindness is permanent, bird, unless I choose to dismiss the spell! You better start acting nicer, and fast. Call off your guards and surrender to us, if you ever want to see the light of day again!"
Seeing Fenchurch ready to smack around some foes (and Moira's intriguing offer of a truce), Selja moves forward, and with a touch, causes her skin to harden like bark!
Túrante can feel her blade cut into the giant's flesh, but the force of the blow was dampened by the intervening river.
Selja moves to bolster Fench's defenses, and Fench adds to the intimidation by trying to finish at least one of the giants off.
The green giant's head lobs through the air in a bloody arc and lands at the foot of the witchcrow's tree. If the poor crow could see it, it'd probably s*+@ out of fear.
Regardless, the witchcrow submits, "Ca-caw! You've bested me this time, but you will end up in Her Majesty's service one way or another. All will bend before the Lady of Lust, the Song of Stagnant Waters, the Wail of Betrayal, the Dame of Despair. The curse is upon you, though you have won! Ca-caw!" The bird blindly descends to the ground and capitulates, relenting over the stolen scroll.
Meanwhile, the injured and blinded giant retreats back into the deep, black, still waters from which it emerged.
Moira tells the witchcrow, "I'm going to wrap you up and carry you with us. If we survive, I'll restore your sight and let you go. Remember that, bird. What's your name, by the way?"
She carefully wraps up the bird in her scarf and tucks it into a sack. She slings the sack over her shoulder, making sure it can breathe and that it's relatively comfortable.
Then she heals herself.
Túrante trudges back out of the water, wipes down her sword and sheathes it, and uses petty magic to dry herself off.
"I suspect that an encounter with this much-vaunted Queen will be inevitable now."
She pauses for a moment, then adds, "Evil queens have a way of being deposed by princesses."
The witchcrow acquiesces to becoming Moira's prisoner, "Caw! They call me Slenderbill. If it is the Queen you seek, follow the creek. But you will have to contend with the other guardians along the way."
"Tell me more about these guardians, Slenderbill. If you help me, I will give you scrolls when I release you."
Tucking the bird into her sack and giving her a scrap of ration, Moira stretches and readies herself for another hike.
She smiles at the princess' regicidal ambition. "And queens have been overthrown by rebellious peasants, like me. I'll admit, it feels good to have allies in high places. Strange, but good. Who woulda thought I'd be working with a baroness and a princess..."
"Caw! More giants, hags, and creatures of the forest all fall to the Queen's charms and dominations. And, of course, the Queen's daughter roams the woods seeking worthy candidates. Are you worthy, I wonder? Ca-caw!"
Selja's ears perk up. "Wait, the Queen's daughter is in on this? Is she some kinda enchantress too?"
Moira explains, "Yeah, the witch we tangled with a while back was Galene, the daughter of the Queen. Also, Selja, if we're up against people who are under charms and compulsions, it might be useful if you prepped some Protection from Evil. It'd be better to snap someone out of a spell than to be forced to kill them--and we might find allies on the way..."
Edit: she rummages around for the party's Protection from Evil potion and puts it somewhere accessible. "We've got this. Might be useful."
"Yeah, if we get a bit o' time for a rest, I'll pray for some o' that magic for sure."
Túrante sets about looking for some slightly high ground and then cuts some rushes and reeds to try to make matting, in hopes of keeping the party up out of the mud and at least somewhat dry (barring rain) as they set up camp. She leaves a circle in the middle of the large mat of rushes in order to dig a firepit for warmth and cooking, and goes about setting up her camp supplies.