Garrun downs the last of his coffee with a dubious expression, "Unless we can scrounge up a shovel somewhere among the remains, I think proper burial will have to wait. We'll be digging all night otherwise. We're not far off the path. I say we build a makeshift cairn of rocks and logs for the time being. Then we can either return or pass the location along to the Castellan's men."
The young man turns to Nogrogomed, "First watch is well and good, but I'd sleep sounder knowing the eyes watching over me in the dead of night can see in the dark. Wouldn't you?"
All that said, Garrun makes a last pass over the spider glade, hoping to find something resembling a shovel in the rusted offerings.
"A stone Cairn might be better. Just something to keep the animals out... though that doesn't bother me too much".
"All sound decisions. Wake me if a shovel shows up and when it's my turn on the watch. G'nite folks." Finn says as he walks over to where Mr Scruffles lays and lays down beside him. Finn takes out a blanket and covers the pair and lays his head upon the dogs tummy and in minutes is snoring softly
The young monk nods in agreement.
"Yes, that would be nice...just a proper burial and a few words to send their souls off to their afterlife."
Dai will sit whichever shift the group decides as he has no real preference as to when he stands guard.
Opalia looks around for a while and gathers some smaller stones until tiredness overtakes her arms and legs. Then she settles down near Finn and falls fast asleep. Her hood drawn over her face.
She murmurs softly and the odd word can be picked up during the night. It sounds like goblins or gobbling and the elf girl slowly settles down after each small burst.
The night cannot be said to be either peaceful or comfortable, but it passes without major incident. Miraculously, the rain holds off, but even with the campfire the air is chill and damp. The trees creak, owls hoot and holler at each other, and there is the sound of the river rushing over stones nearby.
As the moon climbs into the sky, those on watch catch very faint fragments of what sounds like chanting or singing far off to the south. It is far to indistinct to make out, but it sounds cruel and harsh, and sends a shiver up the spine.
As the night goes on the singing ceases, and the myriad stars whirl overhead, glimpsed through the gaps in the trees. The odd rat, probably too small to interest a spider but drawn to the remains of their meals, darts about in the dancing shadows of the campfire.
Dawn finally comes chill and grey, with the threat of more rain during the day.
Nogrogomed spends the first part of the morning having a quiet, yet intense, conversation with his mask. The mask can be seen over his shoulder, hanging from a branch. With his back turned to the party, he makes attempts to turn away from anyone who might try to glimpse his maskless face. After an hour or so he rises, stretches, and after eating his trail rations, puts on the mask. While everyone else is going about their morning rituals, he whiles the time away cleaning and caring for his falchion.
Finnick and Mr Scruffles are still sleeping and pretty much look as if they're hugging each other. Neither one's snored wakes the other, but to every one else it sounds a little like two carpenters steadily competing at sawing some wood.
Dai wakes early, as is his wont, and steps out into a clear area to warm up through a series of katas. He starts off slow, but the movements build in their speed and acrobatics, until he finishes with several backflips, ending up on one knee, his bow ready in his hand. He then shakes out any remaining kinks, and takes several shots at a target with his bow. When that is finished, he spends a few moments in quiet contemplation, before applying wax to the bow string and examining the bow shaft for any damage. The whole routine takes only half and hour to complete, and once finished he set about helping cook breakfast and strike the camp.
True to his training, Garrun wakes early to the dour morning. Grumbling about the chill, he finds what open space is available within the spider glade, nodding to Dia as the young monk begins his own rituals. Cutting back some of the undergrowth with his blade, the gorumite strips shirtless in the chill and launches into his morning sword forms.
Roughly an hour later, he returns to the fireside, steam rising from his shirtless torso, "And how are we feeling this morning?", he inquires of the others.
Pulling his shirt back on, the young warrior sets a pot of coffee brewing and digs a packet of rations from his gear. He smirks around a mouthful of dried jerky, "It's a shame man-sized spiders aren't better eating. Might have saved the rations..."
"So with the new day here, what's our course? Forge deeper into apocalypse worshiping ankle-biter territory?"
She awakens with a small ache in her side and back. Then she rises and spends some time rubbing down the donkey with grass. Afterwards Opalia mentally prepares her spells.
"That sounds good to me. What about the little one in the webbing?"
Finn's eyes don't open as he rises as if guided by his nose. "Hmm wuzzat... coffeh..." He mumbles as he almost glides over to the pot and though the slits of his eyelids he smiles and greets the morning crowd. "G'mo'nin. How's erryone shleep? All gud all gud fanks n 'yoo?" He mumbles wiping sleep from his eyes and breaking out into a great yawning stretch before slumping down and pulling out some rations to share with everyone at breakfast.
The sound of Mr Scruffles rigging up some dirt after leaving a gift out in the grass for the unfortunate traveler who lacks a keen eye on the road.
Ichabod satisfied that his morning prayers were sufficient, stumbles about the camp trying to help everyone, but more getting in the way than being helpful.
The coffee steams in the cold air as Garrun pours a cup, "That's a good question Opalia."
Pushing himself to his feet, Garrun circles the fire to where the small form of the kobold lays. Peering curiously at the little dragonkin, he nudges it with his boot, his voice raised, "Well little dragon. Still with us?"
While the party enjoys coffee and their breakfast, Nogrogomed will keep a look out.
Unable to speak with dragons, Opalia joins Nogrogomed on watch and sips drinks her coffee. Eventually she summons the nerve to speak to the masked orcblood.
"So Nogrogomed tell me of yourself? What makes you charge an owlbear, for instance?"
The kobold has obviously recovered sufficiently to spit and growl at any questioning.
"તમારા ગર્દભ, મુલાયમ ત્વચા તમારા માથા વળગી."
Garrun frowns at the unfamiliar tongue, "Afraid of that. Anyone here speak the dragon tongue? No? Well at least the damn thing survived the night."
The warpriest turns back to address the others, "That raises the question of what to do with the dragonling? Hardly seems fair to rescue them just to kill 'em. I think I've a better idea though. We're looking for sources of trouble right? I'd say a kobold tribe counts. What if we let the little prick go. I'd wager Lucian and Nogrogomed can track it. Find out where it came from."
"Seems a fitting idea, though I don't trust the little scaled thing. In fact...
"Speak common you little lizard, or you might just forfeit your chance to leave here as something besides a pair of boots".
Mr Scruffles stalks up to the kobold and growls a warning at it while Finn mumbles something unintelligible with a mouth full of food.
"Opalia, where I come from you earn your glory by the scars you carry. Defeating a foe with overwhelming force while being unharmed may be a great show of prowess to some, but to my people it means you have not challenged yourself appropriately. That is not to say every fight needs to be a near death experience against vastly overpowering enemies, but respect is earned the closer you get to balance of maximum risk to yourself and your ability to overcome that risk. For a largely graceless people, I believe my clan has found a fundamentally beautiful mechanic for discovering oneself - what you can do, what you can handle, how you can improve.
The trick is, of course, being able to assess yourself and your enemy to gauge risk before you get yourself killed for taking on more than you can handle. In regards to the owlbear specifically, it was certainly more of a challenge than I anticipated, but not every loss results in death. From this defeat I will grow, and I must say I think the new scar is rather lovely."
Hearing the warpriest's comment, Lucian says, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure we can track the little bastard down if need be. That being said, I don't know if we want to stumble into a whole tribe of them."
Garrun shrugs, "We've known we might stumble into a tribe of goblins any moment since passing that grisly shrine. At least here we'd have something of the upper hand."
The sun is now peeking over the ringing mountains, bringing much-welcomed traces of warmth the Valley and starting to drive away the damp mists.
The kobold kicks ineffectually in its bonds, and utters a stream of harsh-sounding language at the group, glaring with its reptilian eyes.
"Well we gonna let the little bastard go, or are we gonna do him in?" Lucian asks.
"I'm not partial either way, and I'd be more than happy to gut'em if that's what we want to do."
"I dunno. Slaughtering an unarmed and bound creature is a little to bloodthirsty for our tastes. There's no honour or heroism in it. I say let him go and we can follow him and chase off whatever barrow of kobolds he runs with."
And with that, Finn walks over to the hapless reptilian and draws his sword and cut's a piece of leather and cloth from the kobolds garb and holds it up in the air beside him. and from behind Finn, Mr Scruffles walks up and takes a few deep sniffs of the cloth, shaking his head once or twice.
"Sorry Mr Scruffles, I know it smells bad."
Finn then kneels and faces the kobold and looks him in the eyes and says.
"Listen buddy. I'm going to cut you loose. If you come at me, this fella over here will rip your face off." He says pointing to the dog who lets out a low growl. "So best you run along."
Finnick stands and moves behind the kobold and cuts his bonds but is ready just in case the kobold turns on him, with Mr Scruffles also flanking the creature, he lets out a bark to get the kobold moving.
Opalia throws the creature some meat and then waves the savage reptilian away. She smiles encouraging it to go, with or without the food.
In her mind she readies a spell in case the party instead need healing from a vicious attack. There is a little pain and worry tensing her eyes in case the poor kobold dares to fight. The outcome would be final.
"Goodbye little one. I wish I could speak your words but it is not the case. Nogrogomed and Finn are right it is all about the challenge and you do not offer us one. Leave please."
The creature staggers to its feet, eying the group warily, and sniffing like a suapicious cat Then it makes a linge for the piece of meat and turns and bounds away into the bushes, heading north.
Garrun watches the kobold disappear into the trees, "Excellent. Now we finish our coffee, let the little bugger get comfortable and then see where the little rats have nested."
"Hmm coffeh...."
The sun is now a handspan above the mountains, and the noise of the forest, even in this stunted, blighted section, begins to return. The odd bird calls out its territory, and branches of the trees creak and snap as they begin to get themselves ready for the spring, forcing sap into long dormant limbs.
The path to the north appears to proceed downhill, heading towards a deep cleft in the mountains about half a mile ahead.
After coffee Finnick and Mr Scruffles suit up and pack up camp and get ready for the march ahead. Finnick whispering to Mr Scruffles while petting him and laughing quietly. Mr Scruffles occasionally nuzzling the small halfling. Generally enjoying each other's company while waiting for the rest of the group to assemble.
After a leisurely cup of coffee, Garrun gathers his gear and tosses some dirt over the coals of their campfire. Stretching, he looks to Lucian and Nog, "Right then. A gold piece to whoever keeps our friend's trail the surest."
"Just take care not to wander into any booby traps. The little devil's are especially fond of them."
Finnick giggles to himself and leans over to Mr Scruffles.
"Hehe... show them how it's done Mr Scruffles. That gold piece is as good as ours." he whispers as he waves the piece of cloth he took from the kobold in front of the dogs nose.
Almost immediately Mr Scruffles goes into a sniffing frenzy with his nose to the ground as Finn leaps upon his furry companions back.
Daingathers his few belongings and also helps to tidy up the camp site. He readies his bow and insures he has easy access to his quiver. He says a brief prayer over the bodies found in the webbing, then joins the others on the trail.
Lucian packs up his gear and hears Garrun's offer.
"I've done worse for a gold." he says, shrugging his shoulders and beginning to look for the kobold's trail.
Opalia cleans her bow, chooses a good string from the pack and then restrings the bow in a slow, fluid motion borne of long experience. She then flicks through the quiver and discards one before choosing another for the way ahead.
"Good luck against Finn and Snuffles, you two. But surely Snuffles should get the gold if you win, Finn, ha ha ha," laughs the maiden musically.
"of course, we need to get some masterwork armor and harness for this guy. Right Mr Scruffles?" to which Mr Scruffles gives an affirmative bark.
Nogrogomed will track as well
With Scruffles keeping his nose to the ground, the group follows the trail left by the fleeing kobold. This is fortunate, because the ground is hard, covered in exposed roots and beds of twigs, and apart from the odd muddy patch, leaves little opportunity for Lucian and Nogrogomed to catch the trail.
The rising sun becomes hidden again behind the eastern mountains as the land descends. The trees begin to thin even further, and are replaced by tall obscuring ferns, thickets of thornbush, and large moss-covered boulders, seemingly tumbled from the cliffs above.
The scent trail seems to be leading towards a particularly dense thornbush when Scruffles stops, a confused look on his face. It seems he has lost the trail.
"Easy now folks, something seems to have Mr. Scruffles confused, and this looks like one hell of a good spot for an ambush...I may have seen one or two before."
Garrun nods, hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he scans the bushes, "Aye. If I wanted to roll us for our coins, this would be the place."
Drawing hand to his breast, the warpriest call to his god, "May the blows of our enemies break upon our iron as water on rock."
Wrapped in divine protection, Garrun draws his sword and moves to stand at the head of the group, closest to the tangled thornbush, "If any of you have preparations to make, now is the time."
Seeing the others gear up for combat Ichabod does the same.
And draws forth his spiked chain.
Finnick levels his lance if there's room for charging. If the bushes are too densely packed and he can't get at least 10 feet of clear ground he draws out his Slingstaff instead.
"Eyes all around everyone. Kobolds are mighty good at building traps. So some might be set in the area ahead." Finn says.
"You are right. The bushes have been pruned and cared for so that they create better cover for someone else - our gardener no doubt."
Opalia readies an arrow and waits at the rear of the group for someone to turn the tables.
<- +2 to find hidden objects or traps
"Let us test their resolve when they have to meet me face to face"
Nogrogomed cast Leaded Blades, swiftly activates his Sudden Speed ability, and uses a move action to advance up to 60 feet, depending on the layout, hoping to provide a spot to allow Finn to charge anything that my pop up behind him.
Lucian draws his blades as he sees his traveling companions prepare for combat.