Do not pursue. They are beaten and they are faster than us in the swamps. Let us retrieve what is useful from the fallen and investigate this place further.
Wringing the water from his cloak, Alistar agrees.
"I do not think I have much left in me if we ran into another group! Lets search the dead....especially that shaman...and then rest a bit to recover some of our strength."
"Indeed. I had to use one of my more powerful spells to end the lizardman on me quickly."
I agree, let the lizardmen disappear back into the marsh. We have no hope against them in their native terrain. Kierdan turns to Rolen and continues,My friend, you are in bad shape. Please let me aid you.
Kierdan presents his holy symbol and implores Pelor to restore some of Rolen's health.
I thank you, Kierdan.
You watch as the surviving lizardfolk flee into the swamp, opting to search the fallen and avail yourselves of a short rest rather than pursue.
The lizardfolk carry little of real value -- their weapons are fashioned of wood, tipped with flint. Their jewelry is carved bone and polished stone. Only the shaman carries anything of note: A necklace, comprised of what appears to be a finger-length claw or fang, blackened with age, hung from a braided leather thong, its red leather threaded through with fine silver hair. The talisman appears to hold a dweomer of some kind, but will take study to identify.
After your search of the bodies, you turn your attention to the spire itself. The hieroglyphics are no less mysterious up close, resembling no modern script. On each face of the monolith, you see that the glyphs are carved more deeply, perhaps four inches into the stone, in a foot-wide vertical strip. Toward the edges of each face, the runes are cut less than an inch into the stone.
Korlayn rests and meditates, regaining a third level spell slot. After she asks Now What? Do we search this spire more completely? Perhaps a Detect Magic will reveal more. Shall I ritually cast it?
"Indeed, between Lady Koralyn and myself we should be able to divine the nature of this trinket."
Arcane:
Ritual casting of Detect Magic
Koralyn and Alistair's magical examination of the spire turns up more curiosities.
The spire, which appeared to be an ancient monolith preserved by magic, doesn't seem to be that old after-all. The wizards detect no trace of preservative enchantments, instead judging the stone plinth to have been erected a couple of centuries ago at most.
The only residual magic active on the spire is among the runes carved into the center band on each face. The runes -- which Alistair is almost certain are nonsense, rather than any sort of ancient script -- are carved more than finger-deep in that area. Every few feet, one of the runes bears a faint, seemingly purposeless magical aura, similar to a wizard mark or the cantrips used by mountebanks to swindle hapless rubes with worthless trinkets. The marked runes advance up the side of the plinth in a narrow zig-zag pattern, each a few feet higher and 7-8 inches right or left of the previous one.
Kierdan looks at the runes inquisitively, strokes his chin and says Hmmm...
They are so deep. The could be hand and foot holds.Koralyn observes.
"Perhaps one of our more agile members could climb up and see if it reveals some hidden vista!"
I can handle that.
Rolen begins his ascent.
"This reminds me of my time with the Dispatch, we would come across markers placed to mark trails or caches of supplies or other goods."
You were with the Dispatch? Karolyn asks, respect in her tone.
"Not an official member, more of a consultant. A contractor. When they needed someone they could afford to lose, or they needed someone to make sense of some supernatural issue. I'd also help out when the knight leading the squad was new. You know, help make his ideas sound like good ideas to those who might not want to comply."
This reminds me of my time with the Dispatch, we would come across markers placed to mark trails or caches of supplies or other goods
Kierdan looks at Eldramin as he speaks, nodding his head, and adds, The magical auras on these carvings remind me of my time with the elven resistance in the Oytwood. Elven rangers and mages would use similar cantrips to mark trails or caches of supplies in the occupied territories.
Trying again to gain a foothold to climb for a better vantage point.
I recall that as well in my early days with the rangers.
The deep carvings make excellent hand- and footholds, as it turns out, although Rolen miscalculates and nearly falls after losing his grip on a patch of slimy moss. He catches himself deftly, however, and makes his way to the top of the spire without further mishap.
The apex of the obelisk is a pyramid, about two feet square wide on each side, with a small hole carved into each of the four faces. On further inspection, Rolen sees that the east and west holes are merely 1-inch deep depressions, but the north and south holes connect through the body of the obelisk and are fitted with dirty glass lenses to form a sort of telescope.
Peering into the lens on the north face, Rolen sees a tiny window of glass, through which is visible an island in the middle of a previously unseen lake. With the aid of the telescope, the island seems to be quite close, but looking up from the eye hole, Rolen can just barely make out a small patch of blue water, half-hidden between the hills about a mile due south.
In addition to the lenses, Rolen sees that writing has been carved beneath the holes on each face of the obelisk's apex. Unlike the gibberish carved on the rest of the spire, these lines are written in the Common tongue. Each face has a different two-line rhyme:
North face: The gold you give repays in kind. Give well when asked, and safety find.
South face: Desire for gold may secrets show, But giving stills the fatal blow.
East face: Those crossing deeps to gain the ground, May fall as biting fear is found.
West face: One's days can ne'er be forged anew, But magic may give great their due.
Rolen, delighted with the discovery, returns to the ground to inform the others of what he say and read at the pinnacle.
Can any of you cipher the words into some sort of meaning? It appears to be a riddle, of sorts. I have marked the location of the lake with the island that was really only visible through the lenses at the top. It is certainly worth investigation and only a mile, or so, south.
Dont ask me - I learned writing only because I needed it to read supply lists and battle orders
"Hmm, what immediately comes to mind is that giving gold at or near that location is good, and that crossing the water to get to it is dangerous. And a reward of secrets is possibly to be found. Sounds like just the sort of thing that might interest us."
Yes, something like that. I expect to be asked for gold on the way to that island. And I am not looking forward to crossing over to it.
Eying the setting sun Koralyn suggests The crossing is likely not going to be pleasant. Perhaps we should spend the rest of our daylight to find a good place to camp and try the crossing fresh in the morning.
"I agree."
That sounds appropriate.
Rolen begins to search for a defensible campground/shelter.
Kierdan looks at the sky and says, It is getting late. Rolen, let me help you look for a good site to spend the night.
"Indeed...that is sound advice Koralyn."
The wizard rests on a large bolder as Rolen and Kierdan search for a good place to camp.
Interpreting the riddles carved on the spire as a warning of dangers to come, the group decides to look for a likely campsite before exploring the hidden lake. Pickings are slim in the swamp, but Rolen and Kierdan eventually find a low hill surrounded by knobby-rooted shrubs, offering the benefit of dry ground and at least minimal cover.
You post a careful watch, but see and hear nothing of the lizardfolk who escaped. After the loss of so many warriors, and their shaman, they may not be eager to test your strength again.
You eat a cold breakfast in the morning before venturing out into the morning fog, which is even thicker than the day before. Luckily, Rolen had marked several trees the night before pointing the way to the lake, and you manage to stay the course and avoid any quagmires during the short hike.
By the time you reach the lake, the fog has cleared enough that you can make out the tree-covered island in its center, about thirty yards from the shore at the nearest point. The water is clear and placid, filled with scores of little white fish that dart through the shallows. The fog makes it difficult to estimate depth, but you think it might be possible to wade to the island across the narrow side of the lake.
Before venturing to the lake, Alistair, Koralyn and Eldramin spend some time at camp examining the amulet taken from the lizardfolk shaman. Closer study makes a few things clear:
* The was obviously not made by lizardfolk hands. The braided leather thong is dyed a deep crimson that would be difficult to manage with the dyes available in the swamp, and the fine silver hair threaded through it is too delicate for clawed hands to manage.
* What you took for a claw hanging from the leather appears to be a vampire fang, although blackened with age and longer than you would expect on human-sized undead.
* The necklace has been enchanted to function as a periapt of wound closure, but the relatively simple enchantment appears to be merely harnessing some innate property of the fang, channeling regenerative power into the wearer. The fang itself seems almost to throb with power at times, but its purpose is beyond your ability to decipher. Powerful divinations and the consultation of sages is likely necessary to learn more.
Dragomir leads the way across the the swamp and through the mist moving the small island.
Hiking up his cloak once again, Alistair follows Dragomir into the swamp. He attempts to stay dry, but soon gives up the pretense and simply slogs though the muck with the others.
"Looks like a new set of boots are in my future. And pants...cloak..heck all new cloths once we get back!"
He makes small talk with those around him, passing the time, but never becoming so distracted that he looses awareness of their surroundings.
Rolen flanks out a bit from the others as he wades into the water.
Like the axe this necklace appears to be useful but also might contain deeper magic that may in the end not be good. Still, if it ok with the rest of you I shall wear it for now. If no one objects Koralyn will put on the necklace before sleeping. In the morning she removes it, but only long enough to make sure it is removable, then puts it right back on.
Koralyn casts her Mage armor before heading out As the group moves forward she fingers her small pouch of gold coins, wondering if they will be called for at some point, or if meaning of the inscribed words were more figurative than literal.
Kierdan follows the others across the shallow lake, trying to stay near the center of the group in case anyone needs assistance during the crossing. As he travels, he keeps a sharp eye out for danger, looking back and forth between the tree covered island and the clear water surrounding him.
Koralyn is able to remove the necklace in the morning, but sleeps fitfully, plagued by dreams in which she is locked in a stone basement, starving. The tooth seems to rest uneasily against her skin, as if it wants to be elsewhere.
----~~0~~----
The muck from your travels in the swamp washes off in fleeting brown cloud as you wade into the cold, clear water of the lake. You find yourselves quickly up to your hips in the water, but the smooth stones on the floor of the lake don't fall away any more after that, allowing you to glide slowly through the muffling fog toward the island at the center.
The little white fish dart away as you enter, as if propelled by the waves caused by your entrance. They soon return, however, swimming among you in loose schools.
Moments later, Koralyn cries out as a sharp pain stabs into her leg, followed by another, and another. The water around her quickly filling with pink swirls of blood, the white fish darting in and out in a frenzy as their razor-sharp teeth slice through the elf's leggings to tear at her flesh.
Alistair finds himself the target of a second swarm, the white-scaled quippers darting in and out of his robes to nip at his legs as he splashes in the water.
Dragomir hastens his travel to the shore while beating the water around him in an attempt to scare off the fish.
Current HP: 3/22
As the fish attack him, they quickly chew through his cloths and deep into flesh and bone. Before he can even react, the water about the wizard is crimson and he is almost comatose from the wounds.
Rolen moves nearby and attacks the fish feasting on Alistair.
I did not know you were a fish delicacy, Ali.
Koralyn moves out of the swarm as best she can which means moving at half speed and then using Misty Step to gain the shore. Just get out of the water. She encourages.