"True! But that has its own charm, like an afternoon dip in sweet, cool water," says Marisol. "And there will be hot days when we miss this snow, even if it's cold now." She grins. "It's certainly better than Issia, where there are only two seasons: Snowy and windy."
Vladimir chuckles. "True enough I suppose. The all to human curse of always wanting what you do not have. Heat in the winter, a cool breeze in the summer."
"As much as I would prefer the weather be a bit warmer, the cold nights do have their advantages" he adds with a wink.
"Yes, especially with the aforementioned hearthfire," replies Marisol, her tongue sticking out slightly and curled upward playfully as she grins.
The next day, you explore the area to the northwest. The temperature warms a little, and the sun gradually melts the snow throughout the day. As suggested by the simple map you'd been given, it is lightly wooded on the south side but mostly grassy plains... flat land, easily negotiated. You finish exploration well before dusk without any complications.
Dismounting from Whisper, Durielle stretches with a moan, her muscles aching from riding all day.
"It's almost hard to believe all the traveling we've done. I feel like we were only just enjoying soft beds at Oleg and Svetlana's..."
"You sure said it, Durielle," says Marisol. She twists in the saddle to stretch her back. "If we ever stop long enough to settle down, it better be somewhere with a mattress."
"Settle down? Hmm," the silver-eyed elf murmurs. "I don't know that will ever..."
Her voice trails off as she looks out over the wilds. Her gaze seems unfocused and unaware of her surroundings. It is likely she sees something else, lost in the images of another time.
Hearing Marisol's comment about settling down, Vladimir says, "I assure you, my love, that before too much longer we will be settling down some place with actual beds."
"We just have to get through this last bit of exploration that was paramount to our initial charter."
Durielle turns her head at Vladimir's speech, seeming to regard him but her eyes still seem to see elsewhere as if contemplating his explanation of their current activity.
She absentmindedly begins to unsaddle Whisper before Arliss steps in and carefully takes over. He seems to have become accustomed to the distracted oracle and her mannerisms. And per usual, she seems surprised to discover she is merely watching him do what she started.
"Oh, Arliss...thank you," she sputters.
"Are you alright, Durielle? You seem to be a bit more distracted than usual." Vladimir asks, genuinely concerned for the oracle's well being.
"Are your visions stronger than usual today?"
Durielle blinks as her eyes refocus on the cavalier.
"Do I?" she stammers. "Yes, I feel quite alright. I...guess perhaps they do seem more distracting of late. Probably as we have not had much to occupy our time than the scenery around us."
She waves a hand to indicate the wonder of the natural wilderness.
"Gozreh has certainly blessed the Greenbelt. It is a privilege to be a part of this expedition and witness all this firsthand."
She smiles. "I wonder if we will have so much freedom to simply exist in moments like these in the years to come. The future seems to expect much."
The oracle extends her gaze to encompass everyone present. "It seems we have finished exploring this area for the day. What places do we have need to visit next?"
She begins to help unload some of the camp gear needed for cooking and setting up tents.
Balter is even less talkative than usual, seemingly putting all of his focus into his role as navigator. But given the utter lack of any significant obstacles along their current route, it is hard to justify staring at the map as much as he is. Realizing that they are done for the day, he rolls up the map and dismounts from Owlbear. As he passes the reins along to Arliss he frowns; for a second he could swear that the lumbering beast was looking at him disapprovingly.
Marisol stands in the saddle and manages to almost-gracefully dismount from Prancer. She carefully pulls her riding gloves off and tucks them in her belt. Her boots crunch in the hard ground as she leads the horse to a tree and ties her up. She turns back and pushes her hood down and runs her fingers through her hair, then ruffles it a bit and shakes her head.
"The air certainly smells good," she says. "Better than Restov." She turns to face Vlad and with her quirky smile says, "Even if we do settle down we'll have to make time to get outdoors once in a while."
She starts unloading her cooking supplies and looks for a likely place to set up, then arranges some rocks to make a fire ring. To Durielle she says, "These long days of traveling through the countryside do have a dream-like quality, don't they? Hills and trees, trackless and almost uninhabited as far as the eye can see. Blends together like a mist of memories."
The next day you head out further from the woods into open plains. Just before noon.. around the area marked on the map you find a large patch of blackberries interwoven with brambles. Balter and Durielle both spot a slightly mounded area of large flat stones - clearly placed here. There is a small entrance and rough earthen stairs leading down within a dark and silent cairn.
"Well, this certainly didn't form out of the earth on its own," Durielle announces. "I wonder what it's doing here and how it came to be."
She glances at her companions. "Should we examine it?"
"That would seem to be prudent." Vladimir say with a smile.
"After all we are both explorers and for intents and purposes the leaders of this land."
"It is clearly a cairn, Sir Vladimir," Durielle chides. "Some would choose not to so easily disturb what rests below."
Nico looks over the stonework after dismounting. "Someone put a lot of effort into this entrance. They wanted it to last."
"I am not endorsing a grave robbing...more of an attempt to understand who inhabited these lands before us, and who still might." Vladimir says in response to Durielle's chiding comment.
With a smirk he adds, "You and Balter pointed it out, I would have walked on by without your notice."
"Then I shall assume your previous comment wasn't meant as patronizing as it sounded," Durielle teases with a wink at Vlad.
"Don't get too excited. Whoever 'inhabited these lands before us' might still be loafing around down there," Balter says warily, peering into the dark cairn with a grimace.
Nico rubs his chin as he thinks. "Let's, uh, start with what we know. It's obviously made by someone sentient; someone who used tools to sculpt those steps. It's not hidden, just out of the way. It's the opposite of hidden. It, um, draws attention to itself. That certainly suggests a cairn..."
He studies it a bit more, walking around the piles of stone. "It's open to the air, so whoever built it wasn't, uh, trying to deter visitors. Again, it's the opposite of that: it attracts the attention of those who see it. That means it's probably not, or wasn't, uh, someone's home because it doesn't say 'private'. Rather, it, uh, feels a place meant to be visited. Or, it gives the appearance of such."
He peers down into the darkness. "If it's trapped, then it's someone maliciously wanting to draw innocents in, including curious animals, in order to harm them. And since it is open like this, someone or something else might have ... uh ... moved in."
"It's not a conventional cairn in the sense of a pile of rocks marking a grave," says Marisol. "But rather a decorated entry to... somewhere. It could be a crypt or catacomb. But maybe not. Only one way to find out."
Nico nods in response, "It could also be a memorial, or a shrine. And, yes, only one way. We should take a look."
Within the 15 foot round interior, you find a pile of stacked stones in the center. There are also rough carvings with traces of faded pigments... symbols of weapons and a primitive depiction of the clawed paw of a great cat.
The body would be buried under the stacked stones.
"This is before my time here."
"Hmmm...I think I recall from a book I read once on the tribes of Numeria, a tribe called the Tiger Lords. At one time they controlled the lands from Numeria to the Narlmarches. They were driven back by Rostland forces." Vladimir comments.
"If this is a Tiger Lord Cairn, a body of some importance would have been buried under the stacked stones."
The oracle draws her dueling sword and enters the opening with the others. A step or two in, she closes her eyes briefly and the sword begins to glow a soft shimmery light. She leans forward and examines the stones and their carvings.
"Hmm...I recall hearing stories about these places back in my home village. Cairns built for the noteworthy among the Tiger Lords. This could mark the resting place of a Tiger Lord or a close associate of one," the oracle's eyes seem to reflect and amplify the light from the sword in a mysterious manner. "The Tiger Lords were once the rulers of all the area called the Narlmarches up to what is now modern Numeria."
She straightens and continues to look around the stone room. "They were driven back by Rostland forces long ago. The stories I heard about these were mostly about the ones that had been located. They were generally always looted and then destroyed. Probably due to superstitions about the Tiger Lords returning to haunt the lands or some such, I'd imagine"
"Oh, but I guess Sir Vladimir already said all that," the oracle blushes.
Balter circles around the pile of stones, trying not to look too relieved that they are undisturbed. A tad twitchier than it has been over the past few days, one hand hovers near his sword. He lets out a dry chuckle at the repeated history lesson.
"Well, it falls within our charter. So if we're not planning on ransacking the place... we should make sure no one else does so, yeah?"
Durielle suddenly feels dizzy, and she sways in place. It swiftly passes, and she waves a hand to ward off any concern her sudden condition may initiate. The oracle's nose starts to bleed slightly prompting her to raise a cloth to her face to staunch the flow.
"I-I had a vision...of a time long ago."
She regards the pile of stones strangely.
"I saw one of the Tiger Lords. One hailed as High Lord Armag. He led his people from the Realm of the Mammoth Lords south...I think all the way to southern Numeria." She pauses with a frown. "No. Maybe southeastern."
Durielle shakes her head to clear her thoughts.
"Anyway, they clashed with many of the other early post-Earthfall barbarians, but eventually came to these lands whether pushed out or conquered through...I don't know. But Armag continued his warring and had many conflicts with Iobarian warlords in the east, and also the centaur tribes of Casmaron in the next charter parcel over to the southeast, I believe."
Durielle takes on a slightly embarrassed look as she realizes she's giving a lesson.
"Really the point I'm making is the High Warlord Armag was a timeless champion history says to have earned the direct favor of Gorum, the Iron Lord. I do not think his tomb or final resting place has ever been located...at least that has been documented."
She gestures at the pile of stones. "It cannot be coincidence that I have seen this vision of the past. There has to be a reason we would be shown this place and have been granted this knowledge."
"Do you believe that this is the final resting place of this Armag you speak of?" Vladimir asks.
Durielle looks apprehensive. "I can't say for sure. I only know the gods or spirits have granted me this vision. It would be quite the coincidence if this grave did not turn out to be related in some way. Either some relative or associate of the High Warlord's if not the man himself."
She gestures at the stones. "We can find out for sure..."
Vladimir's brow furrows debating the situation. "If we are to do this, we must be very careful so that we can return the stone to the state in which we found them. That being said, I am perfectly fine with simply making a few notes in my journal about what we have found so far and being done with it."
Balter blinks. "Wait, so now we are disturbing the ancient dead guy's slumber?"
Nico stares at the piles of bones, resisting the urge to nudge them with his foot. "Depends on what you mean by 'disturb'. Picking up or, uh, shuffling a bone or two so we can answer a question doesn't seem like a great offense. It's no worse than nature must do during the rainy season." He shrugs.
Balter grimaces again, unconvinced. "I'm just saying. If someone dug up my grave just to take a peek at my bones, my ghost would be pretty pissed."
Vladimir scribbles a few notes down in his journal, along with a rough drawing of the cairn. "Alright then, unless anyone else would like to do anything here, let us be on our way."
"These are the memories of other people who cared about this man... or perhaps feared him," says Marisol. "I think we're right to leave this place be. I should hope that I would merit such a memorial some day."
She gathers Prancer's reins once more. "Let's."
You leave the barbarian cairn and finish your exploration of his area in a couple hours. You move onto the next area... another hex of mostly plains. You find nothing of note, and are able to finish by nightfall.
"Delightfully boring." Vladimir says, commenting on the day's exploration. "A couple more of those and we should be back on track for arrival at the former Stag Fort before the weather gets too bad."
"This would be the fort of the infamous 'Stag Lord', I presume? And not, uh, some coincidence or local obsession with deer?"
"Indeed, that would be the former fort of the now deceased Stag Lord." Vladimir says with a grin.
"Prior to your arrival, we had decided to make the fort the starting point for our new nation...not that we have decided on any new name for the fort or settlement."
Pausing a moment, the swordsman turns back to Nico and asks, "You would not happen to have any suggestions, would you? It would seem that there has been some level of disagreement between us as to what those names should be."
Nico thinks about this for a minute, staring off into the distance before answering. "Well ... names carry meaning, and that meaning gives them, um, a certain power. A good name should have some connection to the thing or place.
"These lands have been fought over for generations, which means that any number of beings call them home. Some were born here, some settled. It would be easy to choose a name rooted in these cultures, but, uh, that does carry the risk of appropriation. That we could offend those who are here by, um, adopting a name we don't understand or haven't earned the right to claim.
"Similarly, some of us have connections to different houses in Brevoy. Choosing a name based on one of those would probably cause political strife at home. Even choosing a neutral one could do the same here by projecting the image of, uh, imperialism."
He bites his lip and furroughs his brow as he looks around. "Perhaps a name that is descriptive, representative of the lands as a whole, would be best. Much like the River Kingdoms. Only, um, perhaps ... less boring?"