To the woman, he nods as she makes her comments and adds his response when she is done. "Yes, it is that indeed. All the more important for me then to stay away from petty squabbles. My purpose is more important than even this little excursion, so the sooner we can complete it the better."
He listens to Kranoc's wisdom and considers it carefully. "Yes, the strong do dominate the weak. But you also acknowledge that strength is not merely how big a rock you can lift. Sadly many orcs do not recognize such, and that is what makes us weak as a people. It is something that needs to change for us to become stronger."
Moving out of the field of elven memorials you find yourself traversing into darkness. Groetus the ever present his mad gaze boring holes into your very soul is the only real constant in thsi landscape. The sky above is filled with alien stars and the glowing streams of souls and outsiders above provide a tranquil but somewhat unsettling foreground to the twinkling mosaic above.
The ground itself has transformed from the long sheet of green and gray of a graveyard to the gray rubble of an endless ruin. The tombstones here are crumbling and no grass or beautiful statues mark these graves. Many of the tombstones have been rendered into gravel and more than a few graves are empty. HEre and there it seems the plane itself simply fell away or ceased to exist and sparing a glance downward you see the same starscape below your feet as above your head.
You feel tired, hungry, and a little bewildered at least confirming that you aren't dead. Not yet at the very least.
It seems odd that in a realm of timeless death it is still touched by the passage of eons. I always thought of the Boneyard as one giant mausoleum... Quiet, still and cold. To see grass here and know that there are cities. It is not what I had expected. Not what I expected at all. Sighing the shaggy Ulfen takes in the quiet solitude of the endless ruins and grimaces at the leering skull moon of Groetus. I tell my people that when they die, we will burn their bodies so they will never have to feel the icy cold of an Irrisen winter. This place is not meant to be the final destination of warrior.
Lilia nods at the warrior's sentiment. "This place is worse than I imagined. As bad as it is down here, I think that moon is probably the worst thing of all..."
Oterisk pats his stomach. "This moon does not bother me as much as my stomach. Unlike most large lizards, I do not subsist on carrion. I thought there was supposed to be a city over here."
"This is a place of the dead; why would there be accommodation for the living?" Tak seems resigned, mostly stoic, like the giant lizard he walks beside.
The large orc laughed. "A lack of hospitality is a grave error indeed." He laughed again at his own joke.
"But seriously, we were going to a city. There is no city here. Where's that spire? Have we gotten lost?"
Tak simply stares at the orc, not knowing or understanding that any joke was told. "This is a place of graves. Perhaps the city you seek is beneath the ground?"
The big orc scratches his head, he obviously isn't communicating with the elf, but he never really was interested with them anyway either, so it was likely fair. "Well, you should be looking for it too. Unless you would rather just go to Pharisma's tower and try it from there. Either is fine with me, but I have other things to do this month. Maybe we should have shaken more information out of that gardener."
"I don't know exactly where we are heading either, but one way or another, I'm going to need a break soon. I can't focus properly for my spells without a break here and there. Hopefully, the skies will darken, so we don't have to stare at that all night," the sorcerer says, nodding toward the freaky celestial body.
The night here is eerie. No animals , or even insects are attracted to your makeshift campfire. And missing still are the sounds of night animals on the prowl. Occasionally you hear some far off cry like an former lover or close relative call out to you from the darkness beyond but years of seasoned adventuring in Golarion have taught you to temper curiosity with a hard sense of caution.
"If there are no objections, How about the elf for first watch, Krannoc second, I'll take the third and Lilia the fourth? Feel free to swap shifts if you don't like your spot. It is best that we get this done and get on our way."
Tak shrugs, and bids Ushan to defend. He sits down, going stony still and watches the night closely.
Krannoc nod in agreement before gathering his furs around him and settling in for the night.
"That's fine with me. The sooner we get bedded down for the night, the sooner we can be on our way in the morning."
AS you bed down for the night, or whatever it's equivalent is on this strange plane. You are haunted by dreams of a gray desert of infinite heat and infinite cold. Monolithic structures surround you in your dream reaching onward into an inky black sky of alien stars. The dream is disturbing and eerie but nothing more.
As you awaken and continue your journey you spot a head between you and the city a number of winged gargoyle like figures perched among a number of shattered tombs and ripped open graves. They have not seen you yet but out in the open like this it's not an if but a when for them sighting you.
*prod*