Zelera looked more than a little concerned that she had only pissed the mammoth of more and looked at the others and yelled, "I think we should run!"
Niadroub Kliip murmurs a small "Sheet," when the mastodon tramples through the grease like it wasn't even there. He casts haste on everyone's horses, plus Marten and Colwyn, before turning his horse towards the giant bones and yelling.
[larger]"ROOOOOOOON!"[/larger]
Marten wheels his mount and Tessara does the same. He kicks the horse into speed, but it's smart enough to need no extra urging!
Colwyn guides Sandy with his knees and coaxes her to flee from the tremendous beast's rampage, all the while struggling to aim arrows as he withdraws.
Colwyn sends three arrows to wound the grass, missing the more sizable target.
Luckily your horses, already faster than the Mastadon before they were hasted soon out distance it.
What now? Waiting and heading back, or circling around the area?
Once the mastodon is outdistanced, Marten says to Colwyn, "What now? Do we need to search that pile of bones, or... ?"
"I don't know what kind of monster those bones once belonged to, and I'd rather not find out if any more of its kind are lurking around. Hell, that woolly beast was bad enough. Anyhow, let's not stir up any more old evils than necessary and just focus on this Vordakai," Colwyn announces. He then volunteers to lead the party onward, back on the trail towards the site proscribed by the centaurs.
"Very well," says Marten agreeably. "I am all for avoiding unnecessary bloodshed."
"Eet would hev been foonny, though."
"Next time, Niadroub. Next time," says Marten sympathetically.
Tessara pipes up and says, "If we can find more evidence of... whatever it is out here that left those tracks... I might be able to read it for psychic impressions. Keep an eye out for more signs of passage."
"Next time, Niadroub. Next time," says Marten sympathetically.
Niadroub Kliip nods at Marten in appreciation; takes a deep, cleansing breath; and soldiers on.
One morning as the party breaks camp on their journey towards the Valley of the Dead, Niadroub Kliip awoke irritable and grumpy. More so than usual, anyway. If anyone asks, he replies with a succinct, "Bed drems. Weird drems." Occasionally, he'll suddenly turn his head to the west, as if he hears somoene calling his name, but nobody does. During a mid-morning break, he does this again and finally asks if anyone hears anything. If anyone listens, it turns out that they can.
"Hellllooooo! Hellloooooo! Wait for me!"
After a moment, a tiny, sparkling, light-green faerie dragon emerges as if from nowhere. It hovers over the party and looks back and forth between them.
"Okay! Hi! Hello! Which one of you is my wizard? Come on, I know it's one you!"
Hovering closer to Colwyn and Marten, he assesses them quickly. "No, it's not either of you!" When he sees Zelera and Tessara, his high-pitched voice drops an octave to become slightly less high-pitched. "Ladies." He finally turns to a scowling Niadroub Kllip.
"Ah ha! So that means, it must be y-yo-oh my! I mean! This is fine! Ha ha, yeah! We can work with this! Hello! You must be my wizard!"
"Foorst of all, E'm en eerkenist, noot a weezard. Seecond of all, I soomooned you weks ago! WEKS! Wheere hef you been?"
The tiny faerie dragon flutters in front the arcanist and silently blinks his eyes in surprise for a few moments.
"Hoo-boy! I can see I'm going to be relying on telepathy a LOT! Ha ha! Okay, hm, let's see. You're not a wizard, you're... something else. Okay, that's fine! But you're arcane, right? Yeah, I can tell. Me too! Pew pew, ZAP! Ha ha!
"And yes, you summoned me a while ago, true. The whole 8 hour ritual in the woods, the fancy words, all of that. BUT! When I heard your summons, I figured it would be really funny to jump out and scare you, you know? Just a little fun for our first meeting! I hid in a knothole, but I got a little distracted. By a nap. You were very patient. (Good job!) And then when I woke up, you were gone! I tried following you to your town, but you had left! And then I had to follow you all the way here! Look at my wings! They're tiny!"
The faerie dragon fluttered it's tiny, yellow and blue butterfly wings for emphasis, causing a small burst of glitter that dissipates before it reaches the ground.
"Speaking of which, I'm pooped!"
Niadroub Kliip's new familiar settled down atop the Magister's horse's head. It craned it's neck around to look down at one of its eyes. "Hey there, how you doing?" The spiteful, flea-bitten nag responded with a gentle whinny. "Ha ha, totally!"
Niadroub Kliip takes a deep breath and tries to exhale out all of his irritation. He looks over at Colwyn. "Are we reedy to goo?"
X. Valley of the Dead
The entrance to this wide valley is marked by a series of posts decorated with bones and skulls every 50 to 60 feet—a wall of warnings erected by the Nomen that runs for the entire 6-mile opening to the valley. The Nomens call the lands beyond this valley “Olah-Kakanket”, the
Valley of the Dead.
Beyond the warning wall 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.
How are you travelling through the valley?
When the fey creature appears, Colwyn clutches his chest. He is horrified by his immediate conclusion: that he's fallen off the wagon and hallucinating something dreadful. Upon realizing that the rest of the party can see the creature, too, his fear transmogrifies into confusion.
"Niadroub! What...what is this thing? Does it have a name? Is...is this Vordakai?" the baron asks, wincing and pointing at the tiny green dragon.
"By the gods, he's joined forces with Zelera to torment me," he bemoans to himself as he saddles his horse and prepares to lead the party onward. "They aim to drive me to the Boneyard by way of a heart attack."
...
Never before have you seen Colwyn's countenance so grim as he looks upon the bleak valley yawning open before the party.
"Lovely," he groans. "Who wants the honor of leading the way?"
Marten's helm swivels from the faerie dragon to Zelera and then back over to Niadroub, and he simply says dryly, "I sense future mischief."
~~~~~~~~~~
"I would gladly take the honors of the van, sir," says Marten.
A mile past the bone totems, the first of the gravestones appears. These 6- to 10-foot-tall stone steles are badly weathered—many are partially or wholly collapsed, but each bears strange runes.
A DC 25 Linguistics check can identify as being written in Cyclops and listing ancient names.
There are thousands of gravestones within the valley of the dead, but the cyclops bodies beneath them have long since decayed into soil—all that remains are fragments of bones.
At the farthest western point in the valley, where the ragged Tors of Levenies rise 300 feet above the surrounding foothills, a crack in the cliff wall allows a 15-foot-wide stone stairway to wind up into the mountains.
A dark and ominous shape looms in the throat of the stairs where the shadows gather. A Dread Zombie Cyclops!
To the surprise of nobody it bellows with rage the moment it sees you and attacks.
What are you doing? You have a round and then it is on you and we go to initiative. It is all mostly open ground here.
Eager for combat, Marten draws Falling Leaf and prepares to meet the enemy's charge with attacks of his own!
Zelera had rested and felt her connection to the First World deepening as she did. She could swear she heard a familiar voice calling to her but she wasn't quite sure if it was real or imagined. Truthfully it could have been both but that was not worth worrying about. The next morning she rose and felt something, an awareness of allies she had not yet met, and knew they would answer her call if she ever made it but only once a day so the power must be used wisely.
As they proceeded to set off and heard the voice calling for them to wait Zelera thought it might be the voice she had heard but it wasn't. Still the tiny fairy dragon was adorable and Zelera couldn't help but giggle when she heard it's plan to startle Niadroup only to fall asleep first and get left behind.
Zelera bowed in greeting from horseback to the dragon and said, "I am called Zelera, a priestess of the Lantern King and I suspect we are going to get along very well."
Zelera looked at Colwyn and laughed wickedly as she said, "Oh, you have no idea Colwyn, no idea at all."
When they reached the forbidden area and saw the undead cyclops charging at them Zelera realized they were in for big trouble! She quickly cast a spell on herself so that she would be ready when the thing engaged them.
"Niadroub! What...what is this thing? Does it have a name? Is...is this Vordakai?" the baron asks, wincing and pointing at the tiny green dragon.
"My name is Waffles! I'm a dragon! Rawr! I'm also a fairy!" Another small burst of glitter emits from its fluttering wings as Niadroub Kliip suppresses a groan.
Zelera bowed in greeting from horseback to the dragon and said, "I am called Zelera, a priestess of the Lantern King and I suspect we are going to get along very well."
"I hope so! But I should warn you that I'm a serious adventurer, now! I've got myself a sort-of-wizard, even! I may not have time for pranks! (Unless they're really funny!)"
A mile past the bone totems, the first of the gravestones appears. These 6- to 10-foot-tall stone steles are badly weathered—many are partially or wholly collapsed, but each bears strange runes.
Niadroub Kliip waits for the undead cyclops to get within range before casting a ray of enfeeblement at it.
"Necromancy! Yikes!"
The Dread Zombie Cyclops staggers as it feels its strength sapped by Niadroub's spell.
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Colwyn looks left and right, trying to find somewhere among the countless ancient graves or the ragged valley walls from which he could launch a surprise attack. With a groan he discards the idea.
He swings down from his saddle and, with a smack, sends the horse running from the battle. With his bow already in hand, he lines up a high arc for the first of likely many shots at the undead behemoth.
With Colwyn's arrow scratching it the Zombie Cyclops charges at the group and swings at Marten.
.
The party can now act.
Nodding his head in satisfaction at the effect his ray of enfeeblement spell had on the undead cyclops, Niadroub Kliip reaches into his Handy Haversack to pull out his wand of lightning bolt.
Only to find that Waffles has found it, first.
"Hey, what's this? Were you gonna use it? I can do it! Let me help! What's the activation word?"
Enraged, the arcanist tries to snatch the wand back. "Geev eet bek! What oor yeh doing?!"
"I got this! What's the activation word?"
"I ein't teelling!"
"Well, don't THINK it, either!"
Niadroub Kliip's eyes go wide as he realizes that he was just told not to think a word by a being that has telepathy.
"Got it, thanks!" Waffles flies 15 feet up and fires a lightning bolt at the undead cyclops.
"Woh-ho-ho-HEY! I did that! Wow!"
Grumbling, Niadroub Kliip gets out his wand of magic missile instead.
Colwyn bites his lip, trying to keep Niadroub and Waffles' slapstick routine from impeding his aim. He mouths a prayer to Erastil to drown them out and guide his next arrow.
Marten takes the blow on his shield, barely rattled, and hauls back to swing with his hips as Tracer steps into the creature's battle range. The warhorse whinnies and rises up to smash at the undead cyclops with hooves as well.
Waffles blasts the Zombie.
Colwyn sinks two arrows deeply into it.
Marten misses with his blade, Tracer tears into the thing.
The Zombie dies, it has no loot. You have a 15' wide trail that runs through the mountains ahead of you.
What are you doing now?
"So far, this is just as wretched an endeavor as I imagined," Colwyn says, grimacing at the sight and smell of the zombie, now simply an oversized corpse. He makes no effort to retrieve any spent arrows.
"Rather than any more unliving guardians, I'm actually hoping for swinging blades or shooting darts on our path ahead. Am I mad? Actually hoping for traps? At least they're something I'm more accustomed to dealing with, both setting them up and taking them down."
Colwyn offers to lead the way along the mountain trail, now, keeping his eyes sharp for traps or further ambushes.
"Hoping for TRAPS?! Ha ha wow! I'm going to remember you said that!" Waffles obnoxiously chuckles as he flutters back down and drops the wand of lightning bolt into Niadroub Kliip's waiting hand.
In a lower voice, he murmurs to the arcanist, "That's fine, right? He's your king or whatever, but I can just talk to him directly? Like, he's not going to get upset and build a special cold iron guillotine in miniature?"
Niadroub Kliip glances up at Colwyn distractedly before responding, "Et's feen," but his attention is on the two wands in his hands. He glances at the cyclops corpse and then the faerie dragon settling itself on his horse's head and then the wand in his left hand and then the wand in his right and then back at the faerie dragon. He slowly nods as the possibilities become obvious.
The trek along the trail is nerve wracking, your mounts do not like where they are being asked to tread, but you make it slowly and steadily. Even Niadroub's beloved horse is more concerned with watching where to place its hooves than giving out any love bites.
Eventually you reach a deep mountain tarn.
W1. River Crossing
To the north, a jagged limestone cliff hems in the scene; a mighty waterfall rushes over the edge into a wide pool of black, frothing water. In the center of the black pool stands a massive, hundred-foot-tall limestone pillar of weathered stone—the last, lonely sentinel marking where the cliff’s edge once stood in an age long past. At various points on the island’s top, plumes of black smoke waft up into the sky.
Success reveals a few signs of passage by at least three different creatures over the past several weeks. The oldest set appears to be a few human footprints. The next oldest appears to be a larger set of humanoid footprints. The most recent, perhaps only a few days old, are of what appears to be an unshod horse. The tracks are too old to establish where the creatures were going or to follow.
.
What are you doing now?
Marten has no trouble navigating the mountain passes with Tracer, though Tessara's skittish horse is not quite so audacious. Several times Marten has to dismount and take the reins to guide her skittish horse further up the mountain.
Surveying the tremendous limestone pillar once the group reaches the waterfall, Marten pauses, then turns his head toward Colwyn. His voice echoes through his helm as he shouts over the noise of the falls, "If this is... a dungeon or tomb or the like, then I suspect you are about to have your wish for traps granted. Nobody builds a place like this without doing it up a bit."
Colwyn is now well removed from his days roughing it in the wilds with his bandit cohorts. While this change is quite to his liking, it means his woodland skills have dulled somewhat.
"Aye, it's an ominous sight if I ever saw one," he jaws, eyeing the smoke curling up from the massive stone pillar above the dark falls. "Certainly seems like it'd be the home of some manner of nastiness."
He scans the cliffs and the river banks at their feet.
"How deep to you reckon the river runs? Anyone have a boat in their pocket?"
Marten nudges Tracer closer to the river's edge and surveys the water for speed.
W2. Little Sellen River
The Little Sellen River’s average depth is 40 feet, but the black pool surrounding the island is much deeper. At its deepest point, the waters reach a depth of 120 feet.
Due to the depth of the pool below the waterfall the water is almost still. Only where the pool narrows and becomes a river again does the current pick up speed.
So while deep and dark the water looks safe to swim across to the island.
”Anyone have a rope? I can tie it to Tracer’s saddle horn and he can take it across, then hold there so that we can fasten the other end to a tree and use that to help cross.”
Colwyn retrieves the silken rope from his pack, wondering whether the entire party has enough to span the river. However, he pauses as a new thought intrudes.
"Wait a minute! Doesn't Niadroub's new 'friend' fly? If we tie our lengths of rope together, couldn't it fly one end across?"
.
"I think Tracer could ford this easily, though the dragonet could also do the task," agrees Marten. "Probably better to fly across at first, in case something dangerous is in the water."
After a few minutes of Waffles the faerie dragon playing coy and refusing to help, Colwyn rolls his eyes and groans.
"Fine, I'll do it myself," Colwyn growls, tying the silken rope around his waist and diving into the crisp water.
"He's not my familiar! you are," Waffles explains to Niadroub Kliip after the monarch of the Republic of the Kamelands is already breaststroking his way across the water to the island.
With a sigh, the arcanist casts dimension door to bring the rest of the party across to the island. He sheepishly helps Colwyn out of the water when the man comes ashore.