As the party investigates the remains, and Winifred tinkers with the old rusted bell, the group notes movement along the bank of the river. A ripple in the water at first, then building into a nearly rolling boil, the water parts itself willingly as a fetid and aged corpse rises from the depths. Once obviously a man, yellowed skin covered in moss and slime cover the creature, pulled taught against its nearly visible skeleton. A pair of hollow empty sockets grace the skull of the thing, accompanied by a gaping mouth of rotten and broken teeth. In its grip it holds a shining ranseur, amazingly unmarred by the passage of time. It continues its slow trudge from the water towards the group, weapon at the ready.
"Over there! Something's moving! By the Stars of Desna... The restless dead stands before us!" Eyes in shock and fear, Castor brandishes his holy symbol. "Foul abomination! Begone!"
Castor moves to stand close to the party, making sure to have Theod and Rufus within an arm's reach.
Castor thinks back on his lessons and what he knows about the various different types of undead, but his training never once mentioned anything that resembles what stands before the group.
Seeing the cleric brandish the holy symbol of Desna, the creature calls out to the group in an eerie, soggy voice, “You are not my tormentors. Throw the Stag Lord’s body into the river that I may look upon his death, or join me instead.” After speaking it stops its approach towards the party, standing there just below the bank of the river, its shining weapon glinting in the last rays of light from the setting sun.
"The Stag Lord? Our compatriots are on their way to deal with him now." Winifred says, moving to behind the others as she does.
Theod stands back watching the exchange in silence glad to let one of the others keep the attention of the foul creature.
"I want no part of this,"
Castor declares, hopping back on his horse and waiting some distance away. "I do not deal with the undead."
"By your words, I take it you have made the acquaintance of this 'Stag Lord'. What is your grievance, that you would defy the Lady of Fate herself to be avenged?" Rufus replies, ignoring the others though he did step forward between them & the embodied revenant before them.
"Bring him to me!" the creature howls, its raspy voice raising to a wail, ending in an eerie and hollow sounding scream that reverberates through the area, his mouth opening to an impossibly large width and exposing rotting teeth and a curling, snakelike tongue. "Bring he his flesh, or replace him yourselves!" His hands wrench the shaft of his weapon, decaying sinew twisting and snapping within his arms as he feels the solidness of the ranseur within his grasp.
"Then what?" Rufus replies flatly. "You are hardly the only soul harmed by his actions. Is your pain greater than any of his other victims? Would you deny them their justice so that you may slake your own thirst?"
""
the creature howls, the sound of the unearthly voice chilling you to your spine.
Cappi quickly finds himself in the shadow of Rufus as the decaying creature speaks with the group. As the conversation progresses, however, Cappi shifts from the knights dignified shadow to the one thrown by Castor. "I've got to get me one of those." He mutters to himself, watching the way the abomination seems to be held back by the holy symbol.
"So, that's a 'no' then, on letting us cross the waters? Or can we just promise you we're working on it?"
The creature's eyes focus on Rufus and he feels a chill run down his spine, but nothing else seems to happen.
At the comment from Cappi the undead thing turns its head towards the halfling and speaks once more in its soggy voice, "If your purpose is to do what I have asked, you may pass. But WARE if you do not fulfill your promise! I will FIND you!"
The creature does not move, yet does not approach. It continues to stand in the same place, its rotting feet resting solidly on the water's surface.
"In that case, we will find other portage, thank you." Rufus replies, nodding to the revenant before indicating to the others they should make away from the river. Once well away, Rufus scans the horizon from up-river to down. "My woodscraft is lacking. Think you we would be best served to travel up-river to find better fording or down?"
"I say we call his bluff." Cappi shrugs. "We're looking t remove this Stag Lord anyway, right? We may not get his body, but if this thing was capable of making our lives that horrible, why's he sending us after the Stag Lord, eh?"
"I don't see why we couldn't bring him the Stag Lord." Winifred offers her opinion on the matter, "But if you'd rather look for another place to cross, that would work as well I suppose."
"The Stag Lord should be brought to fair justice, just as any other criminal. He may have perpetrated many crimes, but no one deserves to be thrown to the undead as their final fate.
Castor looks back to the undead figure hesitantly.
"Furthermore, while I'm not certain we're quite ready to take on... whatever that is, I must insist that we ensure it has been dealt with before we call the exploration complete."
"Well, do we have to call the exploration complete before moving on, could we not simply mark the location and come back when we feel we are ready to take this on?"
"My apologies if I misspoke. I merely meant that we should make sure this area has been ridden of evil forces before we claim that our chartered work is complete."
"Oh, some manner of...
cleansing, is definitely in order. Every tale I have ever heard of such...
creatures, leads me to suspect it will take a great deal to remove him by other means than granting his...
demand." Contemplating the others words as well, "and Capi, the other thing I recall from those tales is that such beings frequently can't leave the locale they died in, but they are more than capable of causing others to join them in death..."
"Yeah," Cappi replies, with a grim look crossing his face as he contemplates his own demise, "death doesn't look good me. Which is hard to believe, but trust me."
As the party turns away, the form on the waters casts them one last baleful look before sinking back down and vanishing from sight. As this happens Rufus feels a chill run down his spine, and has the feeling that this isn't the last he will see of the watery corpse...
Joy, one of the unquiet dead has a hate for me...
Winifred looks at Cappi, "That is fairly hard to believe, how would you know, have you ever tried it?" She responds to his comment with a bit of sarcasm. "I think we should move on, and either continue along the river, or find another place to cross if we decide to do so."
Cappi pauses, a bit taken with Winifred's wit. The question was clearly rhetorical, but intriguing. Indeed, he hadn't tried it. He hasn't even had a significant conversation with anyone who has. So it seems a bit presumptuous to have such a negative view. Then with a shrug, he figures he's bound to try it eventually, and should it be better than expected then he'll have plenty of time to enjoy it. But for now, even if uninformed he chooses to postpone it.
"Let's see what we can find down-river." Rufus opines after several minutes examining the notes & 'maps' they have collected from their endeavors so far.
The party leaves behind the remains of the crossing and continues their travels to the west, following the river while making sure to cover ground away from its banks as well. They make camp that evening and Theod helps provide fresh food for the group though his foraging efforts. The next morning the group takes off once more, continuing their search.
About midday an outcropping of large boulders emerges from the weathered face of a nearby hillock. A narrow opening in the rock leads into darkness below. A fallen sign leans against the side of the cave entrance, and a cage made of branches and sticks sits on the other side. Upon closer inspection the party can make out the fading script on the sign, which reads, "Oaktop Silver Mine" in common.
Intrigued, Castor investigates the cage, not getting too close.
"An abandoned mine, hm. What do you make of this, comrades? I am not certain there would be much to gain of investigating it, but something dangerous may lurk inside that would pose a threat to future inhabitants of this land... Any thoughts?"
"I'm always up for exploration." Cappi beams. "Though i'm not much of an 'outdoorsman'. Anyone see any tracks or scat that might indicate a severe lack of wisdom in taking the plunge?"
Then moving to inspect the makeshift cage... "Or any idea what might have once occupied this?"
As Castor makes his approach, he notices a rather pitiful looking creature within the makeshift cage. Before he can get in close enough to get a better look a voice calls out from behind a large stone which stands in the middle of the entrance to the mine...
"Oidaj! Oidaj! Maq remaahsa tueyswp!"
"Wait! Wait! I wanna talk!"
"מדבר עליו הוא טוב. מדבר שבו אתה יכול להיות ראה הוא טוב יותר ..." Rufus calls out in response, his words halting & uncertain as he attempts to enunciate sounds not meant for lips like his.
Eyebrows raised, Cappi lifts his open palms and slowly begins to walk away from the mining hole. He may not understand the words, but the tone sounds forceful.
From behind the stone, a lone kobold emerges. Its scaled skin is covered with an assorted collection of leather and metal scraps, and it holds a crude looking spear in its claws hands. It loosens its grip and holds one hand out wide, then performs a very clumsy looking bow which is directed at Rufus.
"Rusbaal wak ew durmslcanns, ghu qua pooras ruah ti? Ot ir hamaars qua hussur ssaprark."
"Pinkskins can help the Sootscales, will you come with me? To the shaman you must speak."
Cappi turns back to the night, his eyes wide with shock. A bow was one of the last things he had anticipated as an openning move.
"Well, they seem friendly enough." Winifred says before adding, "He wants us to follow him to meet the shaman, probably their leader."
Nodding in agreement with Winifred's interpretation of the Kobold's words, Rufus adds. "Well, we did want to find them. It seems we have..."
The kobold speaks up, in very broken common, at hearing Winifred's remark, "Lea-der, yessss. You come."
Though Castor appears to be on his guard, he makes no objection to following.
"Turk juk, Yark." Winifred responds in draconic as she moves to follow the Kobold.
Cappi is excessively suspicious of this situation. He flips both daggers from their sheathes and follows from the rear of the group. Every few paces he takes a quick glance behind him to make sure that nothing is coming from behind. Should something come from the front, however, he assumes that he'll hear the cries of agony before it reaches him.
The kobold, who you learn as you walk is named Nakpik, leads you through a twisting maze of tunnels deeper into the old mine. As you move through the tunnels you notice several kobolds poking out their heads after your passing and then following quietly along behind you, until nearly a dozen of the little creatures are traveling in your wake. Nakpik leads you through a large open area within the tunnels that obviously serves as their main lair. The air in this large cave feels warm and close, thick with a reptilian stink mixed with smoke and burnt meat. Numerous beds of furs lie scattered throughout the room amid smoldering cookfires, while to the south, a ten-foot-wide alcove contains a large mound of furs framed by dozens of sticks on which are mounted the skulls of many birds and small animals, all smeared with ash.
You turn a bend, down another tunnel which once again opens into a larger chamber. The walls of this cavern are decorated by a rickety wooden frame formed from clean-cut branches lashed together with gut and twine. Banners cut from two-foot-wide strips of old blankets and horsehides hang from floor to ceiling, covering much of the walls. The sloppily painted banners bear dozens of primitive icons and mystic symbols. A large cauldron filled with bubbling red liquid boils in the center of the room.
In the center of the room is a lanky kobold with bright purple skin. Around his neck is a circlet fashioned from bone and teeth and a belt with several pouches hangs at his waist, supporting a sickle and a dagger. On his shoulder rests a raven which appears to be in molt, its ragged feathers jutting out in all directions. He is immediately startled by the arrival of the party and backs away from his cauldron, pulling the sickle from his belt.
"Nakpik! Urths glar maselsh tu! Bhas wir duraf cal Rusbaal mat tiss?"
"Nakpik! What is the meaning of this! What are these pinkskins doing here?"
Nakpik cowers for a moment, then squeaks out, in broken common, "Pinkskins can help! Pinkskins get idol for tribe! No curse!"
The purple skinned kobold glares at Nakpik, flashing his claws at the smaller kobold who squeaks and hides behind Rufus, its knees knocking together in fear. The throng of kobolds following the group scatter into the darkness at the display, only visible on occasion by a beady set of eyes glinting from the shadows. Nakpik continues to whimper quietly as the larger kobold says, in perfect common, "Pinkskins! You have entered the lair of the mighty Sootscale tribe! For that you should pay with your lives!" He adds emphasis to the last threat, letting it hang in the air for a moment before adding, "But! I think you can be of use to the Sootscales. Our sacred idol was stolen by evil thieves. If you can return this idol, you will not be eaten!"
"איפה אפשר למצוא האליל הזה?" Rufus responds to the oddly-hued Kobold's demand, his demeanor gaining greater confidence with continued practice.
"What can you tell us about these thieves?" Winifred asks in common more so the rest of her party could understand then anything.
The purple skinned kobold casts more threatening glances at his kind still scurrying about and says, "Twelve miles to the north of here stands an old tree, a sycamore. Inside are a tribe of mites, who are evil thieves. They have stolen Old Sharptooth and endangered our entire tribe! Recover our statue and you will save the Sootscale tribe."
"Pinch stuff from filchers, I like it!" Cappi beams, eyes wandering all about the room to inspect the banners and decor. "So by 'tribe', you mean quite a lot though, eh? Since you haven't just flexed your muscles and taken it back. And from experience I must say it might be worth noting what's so special about this 'Old Sharptooth." He looks to the others, trying to gauge if this sort of thing meshes with their own expectations of 'diplomacay'. "So why'd they take it, and why do you need it back?"