"Let us not delay." SW for 2 Hexes before turning SE into the valley.
After the encounter with the centaurs, Bytor takes a moment to chat with Taranis. "Lord Redleaf, I want to let you know how honored I am to be traveling with this company. I genuinely hope to make myself useful. However, I want to warn you that although I may be able to heal wounds, I will not be very effective against battling undead. I still hope to inspire your company when I can, but I would sooner trust to the weapons of Unrak or Augrym when it comes down to melee."
Unrak, hearIng this exchange, grins and claps Bytor mightily on the shoulder. Just keep those grand speeches coming, and stay behind me, bard!
You head southwest, quickly leaving the plains and re-entering the hill country. The mountains rise in the distance to your south and west. You pass several herds of mastadon, but you give them a wide berth and they do the same of you.
Atop one tall hill not far from the grasslands stand the massive bones of a long-dead monster of incredible size. The bleached white ribs protrude up into the air like strange trees and the moss-draped skull provides nesting grounds for dozens of families of shrikes. Several offerings of meat and wine are laid out before the immense skull.
"That some sort of Shoanti barbarian tribe offering?"
Bytor uses Lore Master to take twenty on his arcana knowledge check. (1/day)
”It may be an offering of sorts, but look at these bones here. You can see it in the formation of the jaws. These are the long dead remains of a crag linnorm.”
Tess manages to raise a single eyebrow at Bytor's pronouncement. "That's a dangerous beast indeed."
"Let us hope that we don't encounter a living one. This place may be aptly named."
Taranis looks about at the offerings. He'll lay some food down.
"Onward."
Huh. Never heard of it...but it's a big bugger, innit??
You keep going southwest with the few hours of daylight that remain. You soon enter a wide valley, with arms of the Tors rising to your west, east, and south. The way south is marked by a series of posts, decorated with bones and skulls every 50 to 60 feet -- warnings erected by the Nomen.
Just beyond the third such line of totems is a body, dressed in brown wools against the winter cold, slumped face down in the dirt. A mess of dried blood and matted hair at the back of the head, illuminated by the dying rays of the setting sun, is suggestive of what happened here. But there is still the regular rise and fall of the spine to indicate breathing.
"I think we've got a live one!" Tessaria says, rushing forward to check on the body.
If they're alive but unconscious she'll feed them a potion of cure light wounds
"Be careful Tessaria! Toth, Guard"
Unrak moves to the body, covering the area with his eyes, keeping his back to Tess while she attends the wounded.
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Some pale blue liquid trickles from the corner of the man' mouth and leaves a trail across his grimy skin to the rough three-day growth on his chin.
The lion's share finds its way to his belly though, and his eyes slowly flutter open.
He turns to the half-elf kneeling at his side. When he sees the empty vial in her hand and the concerned look on her face, some pieces fall into place for him and he softly offers a genuine "Thank you" in an accent marking him as a Rostlander, or at the least someone of rural Brevic extraction.
With a start, his dark eyes fly open and he weakly asks with urgency in his voice, "What's day is it?!?"
Tess thinks about the question. "I admit I may have lost track. I first saw the baron and his cohorts here on the 16th of Neth, so..." She does a mental calculation before giving the man the current date.
"More importantly, what in the Nine Hells happened to you?"
Taranis looks up to the sky, "Tis the 20th day of Neth." He looks at the man's wretched condition, then adds "4720."
Taranis motions to Bytor to heal him, and his brother to help the man up. "What happened to you? Who are you?"
As the man's strength and wits return, he struggles to his feet and recounts a brief but violent encounter with a herd of female Centaurs some three days earlier.
"I'm John Fletcher and I'm in your debt. I'm called Humble John in Varnhold where I've made a home."
The man's simple manner of speech and unsophisticated mannerisms confirm his rural background to the group.
He continues, telling of a hunting and trapping trip he had made several months past.
"I came back to find the town completely empty. I followed the tracks, because I could see a big number of people left town and went south. But after a big storm I lost the trail. I'm not much of a tracker anyway."
A crack of panic, fear, and despair peek through his otherwise stoic mein as he tells of his wife and three sons who went missing along with the rest of the town.
"I've been searching the Tors of Levenies for my family ever since that damn storm. Just a three days ago, I saw a strange graveyard in that valley between the arms of the mountains. As I made my way to it, I got surprised by those Centaurs I told you about. They bowled me over and the last thing I remember was them shouting in their tongue. They must have left me for dead I guess."
The man concludes his tale and does a quick inventory of his gear. Apparently satisfied it is all there, he asks the group what their story might be.
"Varnhold! We are here to uncover the mystery of your town. I'm sorry Humble John." Taranis takes a deep breath, and exhales a prayer to Nature, "I am the Baron Taranis Redleaf of the Marchlands. We have been on the hunt for what befell your town. Centaurs are a cantankerous lot, no surprise there."
He looks forward towards the forbidden ground, "If you had family, I'm sorry. If you're willing and able, you can join us in the hunt for answers."
The man orients on the leader and assumes an air of deference."Begging your pardon sir, I'm holding onto hope that I still have a family. But I'm grateful you are looking into it as well. May I join you sir?"
"Greetings, John Fletcher. I am Bytor Sniegsun at your service. I am glad to see you are safe. Those centaurs can appear quite intimidating if you don't connect with them. So you say you come from Varnhold. I am wondering if you knew Evril Pendrod? He was a colleague of mine who came to live in Varnhold. He was a visiting professor from Kithrodian Academy in Oppara. When he did not return, they sent me to come and find him. It all seems a part of this mystery. Anything you may have learned would be helpful."
"Good sir, I do not know him. I don't think I've ever met a professor. I never spent much time in town if I'm being honest. I worked quite a bit in the woods though before I moved out this way with my family. Once I heard of the good opportunities here I left and haven't been back."
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Unrak gives the newcomer a deep nod, and with an absolutely straight face, greets him. I'm Unrak. Nice to meet you, Grundle John.
As a relative newcomer to Varnhold whose primary occupation took him away from town for days at a time, John interacted with the other townsfolk rather little since taking up residence there. It is unlikely that he Evril (also a newcomer) ever spoke to one another
"It is fortuitous that we have encountered yet another new possible friend! Truly, great leader brother friend Taranis' natural charisma and intuition is the reason for this constant influx of luck!"
Augrym slaps the newest arrival on the shoulder warmly, but with some unintentional heft.
"Luck smiles upon you, possible new humblest of friends John. The Huntspeople are truly great adventurers and we will, no doubt, discover what happened at Varnhold and what has happened to your family. You may not be much of a tracker but I truly am."
Augrym looks off to the distance and looks pensive, but you see quickly that he's using his Orc Scent.
"The trick is to follow your nose. And then, when that clearly only works some of the time, you use your eyes. Most of the time it's your eyes. Just those two senses though. Taste, tough and sound rarely help in tracking. You may follow me at the front for. future lessons if this is a particular interest of yours. I'm told the level of detail I put into my descriptions and lessons are thorough, but needless and unwanted. I take thorough as a compliment and choose to focus on that part fo the feedback as the other two strongly hurt my feelings."
Augrym grinned throughout this entire speech, though not because he was trying to be funny and more because he's happy to keep meeting new friends.
"Come now, I will teach you about how broken twigs sometimes indicate that someone has stepped on them..."
Regardless on if he's followed, Augrym starts walking again in the direction we were heading while looking for any tracks at all to appear.
John is a bit unsure of the social dynamics at play here, but the group seems genuine and good to him. He has ample evidence of their charity and compassion already so he gathers his things.
He follows the talkative orc with interest, after a hasty " By your leave" directed to the Baron and his associates.
You press on south, with the setting sun on your right. Beyond the warning walls of bone totems, the valley doesn’t seem much different than the surrounding foothills. Yet the further one travels toward the mountains, the more a strange feeling of oppression grows; the wind seems oddly muted as it flows through the trees and grass, the birds and insects grow quiet, and the unusually regular crags along the surrounding mountains seem almost to crouch in expectation of your approach.
A mile past the bone totems, you come upon the first of many stone steles, each 6 to 10 feet in height. All are badly weathered, and many are partially or wholly collapsed, but each bears strange runes that the fading light renders difficult to read.
Bytor looks over the runes and investigates them.
The runes remain alien to Bytor.
"Tess, can you make these out? I'd like to recommend rest, but this mystery would bug me if not solved."
Taranis is confident that the runes are not Druidic, but beyond that they are not within his ken.
Tessaria first whispers a cantrip, arcane symbols floating through the air about her as she works the magic. She focuses her attention on the runes, mostly to see if they hold any magic.
She then studies the shape of the runes, looking to map them to a language she has seen before.
Tess, too, fails to make out their language or meaning. She confirms that they are not magical, however.
Unrak rumbles My money's on "Herein is the Valley of the Dead. I'd turn back if I were you."
John nods agreement when Unrak speaks, but he is reluctant to put a line in the sand so to speak, given his newness to the group.
"In the absence of new information, we continue to work with what we know. So... onwards, right?"
Bytor agrees with the others. "I anticipate we will meet trouble when we get there, but hopefully we are safe until then."
"Onward!"
You decide to call a halt for the night. The dried grasses here make for poor burning, and no trees are nearby to provide kindling, so you make do with a cold dinner. Nightfall comes quickly, and the sense of foreboding only grows. The tall stones cast strange shadows, and you would swear to hearing murmurs on the wind.
John offers to walk a few rounds with Augyrm in order to get to k on his new companion a bit better. He also assumes the Huntspeople (Huntpersons? Jaegersvolk?) wouldn't necessarily trust their lives to a newcomer standing watch alone after having met him mere hours before.
Augrym nods to John but the usually chatty Half-Orc takes the task of watch and the lives of his fellow Huntspeople too seriously to engage in conversation.
In the intense silence of their patrol, John feels like he has had an opportunity to better understand his new, dare he say, friend?
The responsibility of watching over the others is a serious one, and John appreciates the half-orc's diligence. Respect and trust grow in his breast as the two sniff around the edges looking for threats to the well-being of their camp.
Having an understanding of the magic Augrym uses to stay awake through the night, Tessaria encourages Augrym to bestow the enchantment on Unrak and John. "There's no reason to keep watch alone. And once I've got a couple hours, I will join you as well. The more eyes, the better."
"Agreed, and good teamwork everyone!"
Darkvision
LLV
Initiative
Bytor, Marc, Tess, and Toth lay down for some shut-eye. Tess wakes a couple of hours later and joins Augrym, John, and Unrak in prowling about the campsite. The wind is bitterly cold, and the night utterly black. The moon does not show its face, and the stars cower behind a veil of clouds.
It is not long after Tess wakes that a vicious ripping noise suddenly breaks the silence, and Taranis cries out in terrible pain!
HIT plus Fort save!
MISS
HIT plus Fort save!
Hovering over Taranis is a shadow, a terrible darkness that only Augrym can truly see, from which two long pale arms extend, ending in sharp and bloodied claws.
Round I
1. ??? (Kn Planes)
2. Tess, John, Unrak, Marc, Augrym, Taranis (2 Fort saves, 55/65 hp), Bytor
Taranis feels his mind clouded by the intense pain that lingers in the otherwise-light wounds. He can ignore it for a moment, but the second strike makes that impossible.
Round I
1. ??? (Kn Planes)
2. Tess, John, Unrak, Marc, Augrym, Taranis (Wisdom 13/18, 55/65 hp), Bytor
John draws his bow back with a cold iron arrow nocked, steps forward into the cover of the large Boulder in front of him and prepares to attack for as soon as he sees the foe!
John and Marc both ready themselves for violence at the sound of the cry, peering into the inky dark.
Round I
1. ??? (Kn Planes)
2. Tess, John, Unrak, Marc, Augrym, Taranis (Wisdom 13/18, 55/65 hp), Bytor
John and Marc both ready themselves for violence at the sound of the cry, peering into the inky dark.
Edit: John peers into the inky dark and steps into cover behind the boulder, hoping to see what is going on... (no readied action, no delay... just move and crouch with cold Iron arrow nocked)