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"That woman tried to kill us. We showed her mercy and she repaid it with threats and violence. Besides.. do you know how hard it is to find a mithral shirt tailored for a woman? We cannot rescue our friend if we get ourselves killed out there. This mail will help." She takes and wears the mithral shirt. She'll wait until the paladin is not looking before she scoops up the crossbow.
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"Listen, I am not saying don't accomplish the mission as set out. Just don't act like your a pack of highwaymen who see nothing beyond the short term gain of looting and pillaging. Yes the women wronged us and for that she received a swift and just punishment. What you are doing by taking her belongings though is administering a double punishment for a single crime."
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"Multiple counts of assault with a deadly weapon, extortion, endangering 2 animals, grave robbing, murder, conspiracy to commit murder, obstruction of justice, probably trespassing and breaking and entering, she seemed like she was going vandalize the tapestry, several counts of attempted murder, and being a lying jerk.
These are the social repercussions for the last part. If you mouth off at the bar you get punched, if you yell at a stranger they yell back. When you try to kill several people and frame them for murder and they don't kill you you lose a couple 100gp. This is the basic law the govern social interaction, it's call consequences. There need not be a law that says when it rains things get wet, yet there it is, water in my boots all the same.
The law can handle the other crimes, the law of don't be an idiot covers the rest, and we will be feel both if we don't leave now."
Delance takes his leave.
Following the instructions left in Ulisha’s journal, the party departs for Varno.
Varno is a land of chilling moon and rolling orchards. There, peasants cling to centuries-old traditions, fears, and superstitions. Amid misty pastures and groves the heritage of the Varisian people still flourishes, and furtive arts passed down through centuries reveal power in cards, song, and blood.
After the dead returned to dust, some wandering Varisians resettled Varno, bringing with them their ancient ways and the reminder that a land holds no memory—only its people can do that. Yet for all the resilience and wisdom of Varno’s populace, their stories are less akin to fairytales and more like grim epics, rife with tragedy, warnings, and righteous suspicion. Few in eastern Ustalav don’t know of the hardships faced by their people or the suddenness with which paradise might transform into pandemonium. Thus, the people of Varno live by the timeless Varisian maxim, “Welcome your sister, but never let her keep her knife.”
The peasants of the land also spread innumerable tales of vampires and their hosts of deadly kin, immortal witches, children of shadows, malicious faeries, fiends wearing the skins of humans, and countless other predators seeking to make meals of mortal lives and souls.
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"This is a hard land that time has forgotten. But the people remember. They are talented storytellers but their tales are dark. The stories are rife with evil."
"Tales tell occasional predators bats, wolves, as well as the more exotic. Natural obstacles befall travellers too."
"Lookout for sinkholes and vermin."
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Omero reads out loud from the journal as they travel.
"When seeking to conceal something, one’s first instinct is to choose a spot no one would think to look. Better yet, choose a locale no one would dare to go. Such was my logic after liberating a magic lantern from an anemic necromancer in Ustalav. Lest the wizard track me through its magic, I hid the lantern underneath some rocks in a stream near Cannibal’s Grove, whose own magic would disguise the lantern’s own. Now that time has passed, I’d gladly cut you in for a nice percentage of its value. All you need do is travel to the Forest of Veils in southern Varno. From there, any superstitious peasant should know the route to Cannibal’s Grove. How bad can it be?"
You travel through Varno without incident, seeing little of the region’s timid peasantry. Those you meet seem to be highly suspicious of you and unwilling to talk much. Any attempt to speak of Cannibal’s Grove to the locals seems to result in a swift end to any dialogue, often accompanied by the local muttering a quick chant, saying a prayer, or gripping a talisman of some sort.
Eventually, your travels lead you to a crumbling, moss-choked inn standing alone at the road’s end. Looming over its squat frame, a dense curtain of foliage marks the border of the Forest of Veils. The sign above the door reads “The Restless Bear,” and it seems to refer to a stuffed bear’s head that lolls upon a flagpole near the eaves.
Upon entering, you find the The Restless Bear inn to be a one-story hostel featuring plain walls, simple wooden doors, and shuttered windows. The common room feels like a cave, its sagging rafters clogged with yarn, shabby ribbons, and odd miniature knick-knacks that reinforce its claustrophobic atmosphere. Smoky, tallow fat candles keep the interior of the inn in a state of dim light.
The inn’s only visible occupant is a spindly, old woman—presumably the hostess. ”Good afternoon, travelers.” she says in a rough, wavering voice. “You look as though you could each use a meal or a bed.”
”Fortunately for you, ole Birdy has both to offer.” she says as she points to a rustic table surrounded by a number of old, weathered chairs.
"What I am obliged to do is keep my business running, Sonny." Birdy replies. "I'm a poor widow and as you can see, I haven't much business at the moment. These old bones don't have the energy or inclination to put up with loitering. Scare away good paying customers, it would."
There are no signs of other staff or customers being present, but given the size of the establishment and its remoteness, such does not seem too unusual.
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Omero stands up straight at being rebuked. "Why I never meant to offend ma'am. I would be remiss if I were not to provide payment for your time in answering the questions we have."
Omero sees the others partaking of the establishments hospitality but pauses a moment without taking a seat. This place worries me. As run down and understaffed as it is how can anyone trust this place or what might be served by this women?
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"Yoi have done a tremendous job maintaining this in. It must not be easy to keep such an establishment running so close to the forest of veils. I commend you and your persistence. My and my fellows are seeking cannibals grove. Have you heard of it? How could we make our way there? In return for any information we would gladly offer service. My companions are excellent dishwashers. Me unfortunately would not be able to reach the wash basin."
"I knew that ya'd come ‘round." Birdy says with a smile in response to the requests for a meal. She briefly exits to the kitchen area and returns with a few plates holding meager meals, consisting of a vegetable stew, dry bread, and scant strips of salted meat.
"That'll be five copper a piece." she says as she holds out a hand to receive some coin.
Omero stands up straight at being rebuked. "Why I never meant to offend ma'am. I would be remiss if I were not to provide payment for your time in answering the questions we have."
“And paym’nt be’d much appreciated.” Birdy replies, holding out her other hand to receive more coin.
"Yoi have done a tremendous job maintaining this in. It must not be easy to keep such an establishment running so close to the forest of veils. I commend you and your persistence. My and my fellows are seeking cannibals grove. Have you heard of it? How could we make our way there? In return for any information we would gladly offer service. My companions are excellent dishwashers. Me unfortunately would not be able to reach the wash basin."
As soon as the subject of Cannibal's Grove is mentioned, Birdy's countenance immediately changes. “So you’re looking for Cannibal’s Grove, are ya?” she says with several stern shakes of the head. “ ’Twas where the old Famished Shaman worked his blasphemies! Anybody with good sense’n their head should know to avoid that place.”
”An’ yas askin’ wheres ta find it?” she continues. “I’m not keen ta put my own soul in peril, steerin’ yas to such unhallowed spots! I know ‘a nobody that goes there, nor anybody who’d want ta! This old woman canna' fathom just what madness musta overtaken yas all ta make yas want ta go there.”
“Still…” the old woman hesitates. “S’pose I could be usin’ some help wit’ the dishes…and ya are askin’ me so kindly.” she says, reaching forth to make a gentle tug on the gnome’s beard.
"Yi'll not be dirtyin' my kitchen with those hands, Sonny!" Birdy warns. "Take those grabbers outside for yer wash."
"As for your suggestion for conversatin'" she continues, "Well, I’ll not be speakin' a name; the dead rest ill. He was a druid. Spent so much time as a beast, he lost his soul to hungerin’ for flesh."
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Waddy dips the bread in the soup trying to soften it a bit. You still heard it crunch and crush as Waddy chews it well after a minute of soaking. "This meal is delightful. What vintage is this bread? The shaman is dead you say. That is fortunate for us. Hopefully he is dead in spirit as well as in body. He is dead in spirit, right? What was he doing there? Sounds like he left some traces of his bad breath and attitude there. What do the stories say? What kind of nasties should we expect?"
"This meal is delightful. What vintage is this bread? The shaman is dead you say. That is fortunate for us. Hopefully he is dead in spirit as well as in body. He is dead in spirit, right? What was he doing there? Sounds like he left some traces of his bad breath and attitude there. What do the stories say? What kind of nasties should we expect?"
"I canna' speak as to the state of his work or his soul, but some say they'd seen him alive." Birdy recounts. “They say Erastil made him a bear—prey for hunters. My husband usta tell folks that head on the pole outside was the selfsame bear, but it were bad for business.”
"Done."
With this proclamation, Birdy looks at Delance with suspicion. She picks up a plate and gives it a quick sniff. Then, a longer one. "Well, I'll be!" she declares.
Seemingly satisfied with that the dishes are clean, Birdy notes, "Well, if yas lookin' to imperil yer souls, then who is ole Birdy to stop ya?"
She provides the party with directions to Cannibal's Grove, a location about one mile southwest of the inn, marked by a clearing encircled by stones.
After departing from the inn at the hour of the party's choosing, you
travel into the nearby woods. Thick tendrils of mist rise from the ground, concealing the forest and its denizens from view. Eventually, the growth gives way to a clearing--one overtaken by crimson thistles and punctuated by a ring of mossy standing stones. In the center, a neglected stone slab bears ancient stains and gouges. Unsettling noises permeate the clearing—mostly echoes from a babbling stream to the south.
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Waddy follows the group at the rear. As he walks he chats up Delance, "That was a neat trick with the dishes. Well done. Where do you come from? How did you get your powers?"
As they arrive at the clearing he peaks from behind his peers legs and the mysterious circle. He quietly walks up to the circles examining it closely but being careful not to walk in. He begins to reach out for any magical auras from anywhere in the clearing.
The weight of the mist keeps it close to the forest floor. During their initial searches, Waddy and Nyshka fail to spot any sign of the treasure they seek.
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@Waddy
"Well that's an odd story. My master...friend is a venture captain, and a very power seeker and sorcerer. I was his animal companion. When he gained enough power he gave me the gift of sentience and made me human, so I could join the pathfinder society.
I have killed dragons, pinned behir, captured some of the most evil viel people in the planet but because I was an animal companion my contributions would have been forgotten or relegated to side notes. So I have stared a new life with a new name to earn a reputation for myself.
When I transformed into a human, some of Malkin's arcane knowledge stuck with me allowing me to cast spells. I guess I saw it so many times that it rubbed off. That my story what is yours?"
Downhill from the ring of stones and through a copse of trees, Skyllik finds a shallow but swift stream flowing past a 10-by-15-foot islet, mostly formed from boulders.
However, Skyllik and Delance can see little else among the thick mist.
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@Delance: "That is a fascinating story." Waddy pulls out a scroll and begin jotting notes and asking for more details about places and foes he faced. "This will be a great story to tell at the inns. You don't mind if I tell it, right? I will even if you object regardless." He is clearly excited by this unique story. [b]"What kind of animal were? Something fierce like a hawk or bear I'm sure."
Once he is finished interrogating Delance hi tells him his own story. "The story of Waddy is a long one full of excitement and dangers. It all began in the fine city-state of Tymon. Just on the edge of the nasty kingdom of Razmir the silly. That's not his real title but that's my old grand-daddio called him. Silly man claiming to be a god. If you ask me, he's just trying to compensate for something. If you know what I mean," he tactlessly points down at his crotch. "We travelled around a lot in the River Kingdoms, me and the other Waddys. There was a full 12 of us. My old dad healed the hurt and my ma, she would sing in the gladiator fights. She could really get those brutes riled up." He conjures up an illusion of the gladiator pits with a small woman with wild rainbow hair and bearded little gnome bandaging a hurt gladiator with overly huge and comical bandages. "I got bored of all the fighting and took off to find new stories and adventure."
----
Back to the forest.
Waddy will continue to walk the perimeter of the stone circle, still never walking in.
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I was in fact a tiger more powerful than any I had meet. My current totem power is that of a tiger. You could say I am my own sipirt animal.
Over the rest of the adventure Delance will tell the story of eyes of the ten, freeing gods, fighting on other planets, and flying with 6 adventurers in a harness fighting in deamon infested ice caves.
Oh how I miss overland flight.
Thank you for pointing I would have missed the joke. I'm working on humor I have been reading a lot about oratory. You come from a big family that must be nice."
Delance casts detect magic.
Recalling that Ulisha's note stated, "I hid the lantern underneath some rocks in a stream near Cannibal’s Grove, whose own magic would disguise the lantern’s own.", Omero follows the sound of running water through the mist. He looks out at the pile of rocks in the stream.
Unfortunately, Omero--like the rest of the party thus far (even those casting detect magic--is unable to spot anything further.
Delance notices a faint, orange glow emanating from beneath the rocks.
Suddenly, a cacophony of animals sounds--growling and hissing--emanates from the mist-filled woods around you. This is followed by four glowing spheres of light, akin to the form of will-o'-wisps, instantly appearing around the stained, stone slab within the middle of the circle of stones.
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