Nico lets loose another arcane bolt at the remaining frog, it splashes around - shaking its head in pain. It then angrily snaps at Marisol.
Marisol manages to avoid the frog bite, but loses her balance briefly as she steps backward, and fails to energize her sword again with her cantrip. Regardless, she cuts at the frog once more.
Balter wades through the pond towards the smaller frog, his nose still wrinkled on account of the odorous water. He slashes at the large amphibian with his longsword, eager to get back onto dry land as soon as possible.
The second frog's gullet is sliced open, and it falls from the slash. A bit of blood, goop, and viscera gently flows downstream. It is now quiet.. no other threats are visible.
The quick fight over with, Vladimir begin slogs his way out of the water and begins casting copious amounts of cantrips to rid himself of the slime and stench.
"Well that was more than I had hoped for. Shall we continue on, hopefully someplace that does not smell this awful."
"Yes. Please. Absolutely. This is seeping into my boots and the smell is going to make it impossible for me to cook," says Marisol as she slogs out of the muddy water. She whips her cutlass around a few times before sheathing it, and shakes her legs, spraying smelly water about. "Ugh."
Nico watches the clump of bloody remains float downstream and says, "Just think: All of this can be ours."
Vladimir laughs, hearing Nico's obviously sarcastic comment.
"Correction sir, all of this is ours."
"Admittedly this particular area is something less than a little slice of heaven, but I assure you, there are more pleasant areas of the domain."
You move on, and - with the aid of the map you'd discovered - finish your exploration of the area well before nightfall. From there you head west-southwest, and scout around the heavily wooded area a bit before making camp.
This area is increasingly more idyllic forest.. similar to but not quite to the same degree as around the faerie nest of Pervilash.
Looking around the idyllic forest the party finds themselves in, Vladimir comments to Nico, "See, I told you there were more pleasant areas around here."
As the sun begins to set and the party decides where to camp for the evening, Vladimir first sets up the tent he and Marisol share before seeing to the feeding and grooming of Shadow and Prancer.
"It's true, this forest is lovely. A bit lonely, but that's why it's good to have friends and loved ones on the trail," says Marisol.
Once the group settles in for the evening she slides off Prancer and uses a cantrip to take care of the remaining mud and stench from the day's travel, as she often does. "Let me know if anyone would like to not smell like rotten eggs," she says, then fetches her cooking supplies while Vlad takes care of the horses.
Nico dismounts from his horse and begins the routine of setting up his tent. "Given the smell, I can't imagine that will be the, uh, last of our giant frog problem." He hesitates before pounding the stakes into the ground. "Though, I suppose it's only a problem if someone visits. And, um, the smell should take care of that."
"Maybe there's some use for a place like this," Balter suggests with a shrug, before wrinkling his nose again. "No idea what might be, though. Any of you ever eat frog legs before? They taste like waterlogged chicken."
"Waterlogged chicken?" Vladimir incredulously asks. "That sounds absolutely horrible. I think I will pass."
"Ohhh, I bet I can make it better than that," says Marisol, "but not without better supplies. And I don't know that I could get rid of this smell."
Apart from a pair of nearby owls during Balter's watch, the cold night passes without incident. After your morning rituals, you return to your exploration.
The area is hilly and heavily wooded which makes progress fairly slow. Once you get to the northwest edge of the hex - which is also the edge of the woods - you see a fifteen foot tall stone statue.. a stag-headed humanoid overgrown with moss and vines.
"Old Deadeye again." Vladimir says as the statue comes into view.
"Add that to the temple, and it would seem that Erastil's faith has been quiet strong here for quite some time. It also seems that Old Deadeye has treated our expedition fairly well, and it is not too long before we need to set camp anyway, let us go ahead and set our camp here and perhaps we can return the at least one of the favor Erastil has done for us by cleaning up this statue. Thoughts?"
Nico gazes up at the enormous statue and nods in agreement. "I don't know that he'd mind the moss so much, but the vines, for sure."
"Yeah... at the very least we can get rid of some of the dirt and grime from all the rain and weathering. I'm sure it's a beautiful statue when it's clean, but I agree that a bit of moss and leafiness adds a nice ambience to it," says Marisol.
"Paying our respects is the least we could do," Balter says with a small shrug. "Better place than most to set up camp, in any case."
"That sounds like a plan," Nico says, dismounting his horse. He pulls down his bags and finds a good spot to set them down and pitch his tent later. Then he pulls out his dagger and starts to work at cutting away the vines. "I, uh, certainly don't like how it looks like these things are strangling him."
You cut and clean the overgrowth, vines, and grime from the statue before making camp. After which, there is a palpable feeling of serenity - a vague sense of comfort in the area. As the sun goes down, the view from this slightly elevated edge of the forest is particularly pleasant - looking into the varied greens and artful lines of dark gnarled branches in the relatively ancient woods bathed in the waning golden light.
Morning comes without incident.
Balter is able to estimate you have about four hours of exploration in this map hex.
A light but cold rain falls minutes after you set out. It patters against the thick canopy, but icy drips intermittently reach your heads and shoulders from overhead.
Vladimir pulls his hood in a vain attempt to keep a bit of the cold, misty rain at bay while following the ranger's lead though the forest.
When the party stops to take a mid-day meal, the swordsman consults the existing map with Balter to determine the next destination - continuing southwest.
"That'd cover most of the northern Narlmarches," Balter remarks, tracing a finger along Vladimir's route. He nods approvingly, unable to find a more efficient path. "Not many more landmarks to speak of. Not that we have listed on here, at least. But we can always tackle the southern half later. I'm sure you're eager to get started at the Stag-whatever-we're-calling-it."
You make your way through the dense woodlands to the southwest for several hours. During late afternoon, you begin to smell moldering plants.. and you notice a clearing ahead .. somewhat sunken. The ground is increasingly marshy as you near the clearing, and the temperature seems a few degrees higher. Gnats and mosquitoes harass you a bit, and the stench of vegetation rot grows a little stronger as you get within a few dozen feet.
"Ugh... bog land?" says Marisol. "Not rotten eggs, a whole new kind of unpleasantness."
"The Hooktongue is not far from here, in fact that very well may be the beginnings of it we are smelling."
You enter the clearing, and see a scum-ringed swampy pond. On the southern edge you immediately spot a pale mound.. a moment later you are able to make out what appears to be a dead white horse.
Nico stares at the dead horse and says, "So I am, um, guessing that smell is not the Hooktongue, then."
"Unfortunately not." Vladimir confirms.
"A lone horse out here without a rider? Interesting. The Greenbelt is not know for wild horses...maybe to the East in the Nomen Heights, but not here." the swordsman says, riding up closer to the fallen animal.
"I have a bad feeling about this..." Balter utters, following Vladimir closely.
Upon approaching, Vladimir and Balter find the corpse to have no sign of decomposition. The open eyes are clouded over - milky white, and there is a circular wound on the center of the forehead (the only visible wound at first glance).. a little larger than a coin.
"Damn. Poor thing," Balter mutters as he crouches down beside the horse. He absentmindedly pokes at the rather prominent hole on its forehead. "Must not have been dead for very long. Not sure why anyone would kill a perfectly good horse, though."
Durielle feels a strange calm come over her as they approach the beast's corpse. She feels almost disoriented, but...everything seems fine. No chaotic visions of the past, no premonitions of the future, just a dead horse lying near the edge of the filthy pond. She puzzles over this as Balter moves closer to examine it. She feels drawn to investigate as well and dismounts from Whisper to move closer. The mare is definitely skittish about the corpse of a fellow equine.
Marisol keeps her hand near the hilt of her cutlass once she dismounts. She scans the swampy land around the corpse and says, "And where did the killer go? No other hoof prints, no tracks... but the corpse is fresh. Couldn't have died more than a day ago - no flies."
"Magic? Flying assailant?" Vladimir speculates. "Damned strange regardless."
Balter tugs his hand away from the wound, his expression suddenly turning grim. "This is no horse. It's a unicorn. Or it was one, at least."
Nico lets out a long sigh. "The wound in its forehead did seem suspicious. So, it seems we, uh, have someone who can fly or use magic, taking trophies."
"I don't like this one bit," Balter says warily, suddenly much more interested in the group's surroundings. "For all we know it could still be somewhere around here."
After quite some time, Durielle finishes her assessment.
"Possible, but not terribly likely." Vladimir says to Balter's last comment. "Based on the coloration of the grass beneath the body, it has been laying there for more than a couple days...perhaps as much as a week. Of course that only makes the body's lack of decomposition a bit more unusual."
Nico rubs his chin and says, "There are spells that can preserve a corpse for a short time." He makes a gesture with his hand and speaks the words to a spell. "Though why you'd, uh, bother to do that if you are mutilating it makes just as little sense."
"Necromancy. Too faint to, uh, be an active spell." He rubs his chin again. "If I were to guess, I'd say...um, a lingering aura from the spell that killed it. But that's just a guess."