Digging up the cache takes 10 minutes—the cache itself is wrapped in a heavy leather cloak and consists of a masterwork dagger, a wand of burning hands (CL 2nd, 4 charges), a silver ring worth 75 gp, and a spellbook. Unfortunately, rain seeping down into the cache has damaged much of the spellbook, but five of the spells (identify, mage armor, reduce person, silent image, and unseen servant) remain intact.
Magna examines the silver ring.
Dregan looks quite disappointed looking through the 'treasure'. "One ring, a dagger, a moldy book an' a ruined cloak. Hardly worth a treasure map is it?"
"This is a wizard's spellbook!" exclaims Naralesh as he glances at the first page. He flips through ruined page after ruined page with disappointment, but manages to discover five spells that can be recovered. "Two of these spells appear similar to incantations I have already developed, but I can learn much from the rest of these pages." He seems excited by the prospect, poring over the arcane sigils inscribed on the spellbook's pages with delicate care.
He also takes the time to identify the wand, scanning the other items with detect magic to ensure no lingering enchantments are missed. "This will serve as a potent weapon as well. I have little talent for destructive evocation magic, but this wand will summon a burst of flames a few times before its magic is spent."
Magna examines the silver ring.
Unfortunately, this does not appear to be Svetlana's wedding ring.
The hills of the Kamelands give way to more plains as you move east. The hills roll away to your south, but here the plains stretch eastwards out of the jurisdiction of your mandate.
The day is bright and clear, and warmer than its been to date. The shoots of the new grasses are knee-high at this time of year, and the smell of fresh growth is everywhere. Near the end of the day, dark clouds can be seen gathering in the West. It's going to be a wet night.
Gavriil looks crestfallen at the sight of their "treasure". He looks at Dregan and says, "You can say that again, where's the gold?"
At hearing Naralesh explaining all he could do with the few paltry items they found Gavriil rolls his eyes and starts back to his horse, "The spoils to the wizard, I guess. Let's keep moving"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The next day Gavriil's back to his old whistling and smiling self. A few times he even breaks out in a few tavern songs. Even if his lute playing skills have improved, it's clear that his singing hasn't.
Once they make camp, he spots the rain clouds off in the distance. "Now I know why no body comes to this place! They probably all get washed away after a few days in these lands..."
Talia sighs as Gavriil points out the rain clouds in the distance. Another wet night.
Dregan smiles "Many things worse van a bi' ov rain. If dis area was safe i' would be good farmin' an' grazin' land. On what topic keep your eyes out fer berry bushes, dis is tha area what crazy alchemist was pointin' us towards"
The rains do indeed come that night. The wind whips down out of the hills, driving the rain sideways. The lightshow is impressive, as impressive as a severe storm can be when you are caught in the open at night. Despite the danger, or maybe because of it, it's a thrill to watch. Even if you don't sleep much. By dawn, the storm has blown through.
Magna is very distracted dreaming with gold...
Naralesh spends the night firmly entrenched within his tent, studying the recovered spellbook by magelight with the read magic spell he prepared the prior evening. Not even the spectacular lightshow of the storm can draw his attention from the tome he recovered. In the morning, he has added identify, unseen servant, and reduce person to his spellbook! He keeps the recovered book with him, knowing it might be of use to another passing trader at Oleg's upon the group's return.
Day 1:
Day 2:
Day 3:
Dregan has a restless night, worrying that he might have got the party to camp in an area my flood. He emerges often from the tent to make sure the fire is well built up (and to give him something to do.)
Day 1: All these roll get a +2 bonus while I'm in the forest (seems unlikely).
Day 2: All these roll get a +2 bonus while I'm in the forest.
Day 3: All these roll get a +2 bonus while I'm in the forest.
13 Gozran 4707
The storms abate, but the dark low-hanging clouds remain. The air is warm, but humid as you explore westward back into the hills of the Kamelands. Here the Shrike river comes down from the plains to the East, and runs south-south west. Cutting through the hills, it imposes a barrier to your exploration of the southern portion of the area.
Searching along its length, you eventually come to what looks like it may have been a toll crossing. A thick, sagging rope still hangs across the river, all that remains of the bridge that once spanned it. A signpost at either end of the ruined bridge reads “Nettles’ Crossing —5 coppers— ring bell for service.” A rusty bell hangs by each sign. On the south bank of the river, the crumbled remains of a burnt-down wooden building are slowly being overgrown by encroaching vegetation.
Naralesh shrugs off his armor and casts his defensive spell reflexively as he dismounts to inspect the signpost before looking across the river at the building on the far side. "Likely whoever once maintained this... ferry? Must be long gone. No one still lives within the hut on the far bank."
"But this will be a good place to build a new one."
Talia studies the water, trying to get a feel for how swift the current is, how deep the channel, and how far the drop from the rope into the river. "I think more likely it was once a toll bridge than a ferry." Pointing to the rope, Talia continues. "See the rope there? Probably one of the trusses for the bridge, which would have had another one and wood planks perhaps between them. It would have been a harrowing crossing for sure."
"The bridge-keeper probably lived in the residence and recouped his or her investment in the bridge by charging for access. By accident or by purpose, Naralesh is right - the bridge-keeper is long gone."
Sighing, Talia looks upriver and downriver. "I suppose we have three choices. Leave the horses and go hand over hand to the other side, try to ford the river, or follow the river and cross at a shallower point, or beyond its source."
"I say we follow the river. I don't feel like fording at this point - there are many unexplored lands on this side still."
"I say we follow the river. I don't feel like fording at this point - there are many unexplored lands on this side still."
Naralesh moves over to inspect the line. "I hardly fancy a fall from this height, even into water. I wonder if this rope is even secure enough to get us across?" he says, grasping the rope and giving it a firm yank.
Nora has crawled down from her usual perch atop Susan's saddle and moves over to inspect the bell hanging from the signpost. She watches the metal clapper moving slightly in the breeze for several seconds before leaping up to bat at the rusty bauble.
Gavriil hops down from his horse if only to stretch his legs a little. As the others debate what they want to do, Gavriil leans on the sign, looking out across the river. Yea, there's no way I'm swimming across here.
He looks at the others and says, "Well, I'm okay with whatever you guys decide."
As the others continuing making up their minds, Gavriil looks down at the bell. He gives it a quick tug, sending a ring out through the area and jokes, "Hehehe, maybe the ferryman is still in."
"Let me try to ford first."
Magna unsaddles and stores her armor on her saddlebags. She takes the horse by the reigns and try crossing the river slowly and safely.
"Let me try to ford first."
Magna unsaddles and stores her armor on her saddlebags. She takes the horse by the reigns and try crossing the river slowly and safely.
[dice=In case it is needed]1d20
The dull clanking of the rusted bell sounds out and echoes down the river. A moment later, a low moan of pain and anguish rolls up the gorge, raising the hairs on your neck. Nora lets out a mewling whine and runs back to Naralesh, hiding up under his cloak.
Then from a pile of rubble downstream crawls a horror - a long-dead man, flesh putrescent and dripping - carrying a rusty ransuer. He makes his way inexorably across the river's surface towards you. When he reaches the point of the river below you, he pauses to look up at you with empty eye sockets. In a soggy, burbling voice he groans:
"You are not my tormentors. Throw the Stag Lord's body into the river that I may look upon his death, or join me in his stead."
Talia cringes when the bell tolls, its clanging surely audible for a great distance. Great. Now every bandit in the area will-
------
Bandits. Bandits are nothing, Talia will later think, when reflecting on this point in the group's adventures, compared to the horror that arose from that pile of rubble. Putting her quill down, Talia rubs her eyes, the memory still burned bright on her mind.
-------
First there's the moan, pure pain and anguish, and a shiver runs up and down the playwright's skin. Then, the creature, all bloated, blackened and rotted skin, soaked and dripping, crawling over the rubble, its mouth open, and gods that moan, rumbling like the toll of the bridge-keepers's bell, across the gorge.
And then it walks - walks! - across the river, its feet untroubled by the current, or even the water itself, as if the river was nothing but sun-baked earth.
"Its moving slow," Talia finds herself saying, to no one in particular, her hands already working at making sure Apple's saddlebags are tied securely in place, ready to spring onto the mare and make her way across the plains as fast as the horse's hooves can carry them.
And then its voice, its poor drowned voice, rushes over them, and the creature is at the bottom of the gorge, looking up at them, eyes long gone to the hungry creatures of the Shrike.
"Gods. Its the bridge-keeper. What did they do to you?"
Magna detects evil on the creature.
"I am so sorry you were murdered. But staying here, where you don't belong anymore, is not right. You must obey the god's laws, and move on to Pharasma graveyard. But worry not, we will send the Stag Lord to pay his crimes on Pharasma realm too."
Naralesh's breath catches in his throat at the sight of the undead abomination. I am grateful to be up here instead of down there, he thinks. This creature is altogether different from the skeletons in that tomb. "Magna..." Naralesh warns, sensing the Paladin's tone of voice. "Hold. Do not be rash. Force of arms may do nothing to set this man's soul to rest."
"Hhhhhhaaaaaaaaaagghhh." The creature groans. "Throw the body in the river. The Stag Lord. Or join me...forever..." The creature turns about, walking away from the bridge. And as it does, it sinks slowly into the depths of the Shrike River.
Magma, her eyes locked on the undead, asks Naralesh.
"You sure we should let it go?"
Talia watches the bridge-keeper - Nettle? - sink into the river. Taking in a deep breath, the playwright realizes she was holding her breath, for the gods only know how long.
"I am not crossing the river here. Let's head west, far west, and see if a better spot presents itself."
The elf's heart pounds in his chest as the undead bridge-keeper sinks back beneath the river's currents. It is several seconds before he speaks again. "I have studied the unliving extensively during my education in magic. Nothing I learned prepared me for that. Whatever was done to this bridge-keeper has raised him from death as something unique... and powerful."
At Talia's words he nods. "I... concur. This is no crossing now."
"I just hope the Stag Lord's body makes it rest."
Talia spurs Apple away from Nettle's Crossing as quickly as she can get the horse to move - which it turns out is pretty quick. Apple's nostrils flare as she gallops off, with plenty of worried neighing coming from the mare's mouth. The horse was obviously left on edge from the group's brush with undeath.
Like owner, like horse, Talia thinks, spurring the mare faster as another shudder crawls down the playwright's back.
Dregan nods and mounts up leading the group away quickly. Once they have put a little distance between then and the undead. "The bandits must 'ave a easy way across somewhere."
Naralesh nods at Dregan's comment as they ride. "You're right. This can hardly be the only crossing. A useful crossing is sure to be guarded, however." He looks around at the others. "I'd wager that we're more than ready for them, though." He smiles. "We've become quite the team of late."
"Or maybe they don't cross, depending where their victims are."
14 Gozran 4707
You follow the river, going deeper into the Kamelands. Far off to the west, you see what must be an enormous tree sitting atop a hill. An obvious landmark in these parts, you recall a trapper at Oleg's telling you about the Old Sycamore. What's more, you also remember him telling you to stay clear of it: "Durned thing is infested wit mites. Nasty buggers."
Almost immediately upon seeing the tree in the distance, your exploration party stumbles upon the bodies of two kobolds. Lying dead in the grass, and stripped of all items and valuables.
Magna looks at the Kobold bodies with revulsion.
"I guess we should bury them..."
14 Gozran 4707
Talia looks down to the bodies, trying to recall what she knows, if anything, about mites.
"Perhaps we should deal with this 'infestation' before we bury the kobolds? No need to alert the mites to our presence before we have to."
Walking the tree, the playwright slowly circles closer, looking for signs of mites, an entranceway, or anything else that may be of interest.
Dregan nods "Any idea how many of these things we are talking about? Infested makes me envision a bees nest of the things, I don't have that many arrows. Do you much about them, other than their dislike for kobolds?"
Gavriil nods as he looks around. "Talia's right, these bodies will be here when we're done with the mites. There's no sense getting caught with our pants down while we're burying the dead, not unless we want to join them."
Gavriil turns to Dregan, "I don't even know what they look like, but I'm assuming they might be the reason the kobolds have been acting up more than usual. A turf war maybe?"
Magna nods, and unmounts, grabbing her weapons. She moves behind Talia.
Talia shrugs at Gavriil's question, still looking around the tree. "Could be. Poster at Oleg and Svetlana's says they've been riled up lately. I'd think a turf war would do it."
Turning to Dregan, the playwright continues. "As for the mites, I dunno. The trapper said infestation. That to me says they're pests, nothing more." Casting a glance to the bodies in the grass, Talia finishes her thought. "We know its not hard to bring down two kobolds, so I'm not worried - yet. Its not like we've seen these things walking on water or anything."
Almost immediately upon seeing the tree in the distance...
As you continue to work your way through the hills towards the tree, you come other signs of a conflict: a single mite corpse here, another kobold there. Clearly something is going on here...
Circling and searching, you don't find anything that would tell you that mites are here...
Naralesh casts mage armor and draws his bow as the group approaches, and he'll share his knowledge of mites, whatever that might be.
Magna doesn't see anything.