Hexa remembers some traps he had set two days prior, on the morning before he met the party.
Riding Tal, he is able to check them and return before the sky grows too dark, bringing back a couple rabbits to complement dinner.
Resetting his traps he returns and skins the rabbits. Prepping the meat for Svetlana's use, he used purification magic to ensure the rabbits were not diseased. Once they were cleaned up he handed them over to Svetlana and cleansed his claws outside the gates. Washing away the blood with magically summoned water.
He takes the skinned hides and sets them out to dry before bedding down for the night. A simple thing, with rabbits. He curls up to Tal, hand on his handaxe as usual. He wasn't quite trusting the Talkers yet or the Ugly human and his warriors either...
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As the sun begins to set, Ahto calls the Indentures' work to a halt.
"Collect the tools and stack the unused wood," he says. Once the work sites have been made orderly, he calls the Indentures to gather before the gates of the Post. "You all worked hard today, and you did so without complaint. Each of you will receive a favorable mark in your record. If you continue in this vein, you will earn your parole. Return the tools to Master Oleg, then report to Mistress Svetlana for your evening meal. Be polite and grateful to them, if you are not, I will hear of it. After you have eaten, prepare yourself to sleep. You may wish to get as much rest as you can. Tomorrow's labors await you with the sunrise. You are dismissed."
As they disperse, Ahto says to Sams. "Sams, report to me after you have eaten so that I may inspect your wounds."
Ahto murmers a prayer to Abadar and channels healing energy into the large man's injuries.
The following morning invites new opportunities.
Shall the party continue work at the outpost or set out to explore the region?
Aris comes out of her trance refreshed, at least mentally. Her conversation with Hexa the day before had left her emotionally drained; the natural result of conversing about her past in a bastardized version of a complex language while holding spell triggers in her mind and letting herself be both physically and emotionally vulnerable to a stranger. She prepares spells that give her some flexibility, in case the day’s task is more work on the trading post.
When the group gathers for breakfast, she clears her throat. ”I don’t wish to push my desires on the rest of the group, but in addition to dealing with banditry, those who gave us the charter want us to explore. In addition, your map - “ She points toward Wonky. ” - seemed to suggest that there were other groups out here. It might be wise to either talk to them or get them to leave.”
Paval was already out practising sword forms when most others came along for breakfast.
When Aris speaks of exploration and the others groups he nods, "We should get back to mapping soon, yes. I don't think we have to worry about the other charter holders though. The Stolen Lands are ours alone, they are in other areas along the Brevic border. It's just that group of Chelaxian scum that we have to watch out for."
"I meant..." Aris thinks back to Wonky's map. "...Kobolds and Mites? Should we explore that area, or would it be wiser to give them the miss for now and head more west?"
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Ahto rises with the dawn, washes, dresses and performs his morning devotions.
He greets the others at the morning meal and joins in on the discussion of the day's agenda.
"Mapping certainly needs to be done. Perhaps Lady Kalima and Aurelius could supervise the Indentures as they retrieve river stones for the wall while we explore the surrounding area."
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"I would love to get back to cartography," Wonky chimes in as she joins the others around breakfast, her hair all forms of askew, "and I have always been keen to explore a little more of the fey influence rumoured to have existed in these woods. The mites might - HA HA! - be a good place to start." Wonky's staccato laugh at her silly pun prompts Sprocket to bark from beneath the table.
"Oh," Wonky adds conspiratorially, "I believe we learned from the indentured that our best chance of finding SOMEONE'S ring lies with the mites." Wonky's raised eyebrows and head angle towards Svetlana leaves little question as to whom she is not-so-subtly referencing.
Hexa rises with the dawn, the sunlight warming his scales as he groggily rises off where he had been curled up with Tal. He sits outside the village and performs his morning greetings to the new light.
Then the tantalizing smell of Svetlana's cooked morning meal summoned him fairly quickly. He arrived at the point in the conversation about a certain ring. "Kiel blue ones, take Ringa back. Hexa show you, yes?"
Oh he was interested. Very interested in raiding that dead tree and killing the blue monsters within.
When he sees Arisl the Immortal he bows his head and taps his claws to his forehead as he says. "Good Light Aoi'Si."
As for the kobolds, you are familiar with the species of reptilian folk known for jealously guarding their mineral wealth with wicked traps. While you know there is a population of the creatures in the Greenbelt, that is the limit of your local knowledge.
Aurelius sits on log stool, alternating between oiling his sword and tossing a branch for Hero to fetch and chew.
"These men have been surprisingly amenable," he says, eying the indentures with a sidelong glance. "Lady Kalima has certainly shown a knack for motivating them. The day's labor should be no problem."
Oleg ambles over, carrying a sack of milled grain for porridge. He looks around cautiously before speaking.
"I'm grateful that you folks are taking the time to reclaim my wife's ring, but I also wanted to pass along some information about her missing brother. I overheard Lord Garess talking with his men. That moody lordling seems bitter that he wasn't the one to break the local bandits, but he was bragging about redeeming himself by exploring some sort of Labyrinth, and that jolted me to remember something."
"Back in Restov, my wife had an uncle who fancied himself a scholar. Growing up, he filled Svetlana and Lothar's heads with nonsense about Iobarian ruins. My wife has a good head and paid him no mind, but her good-for-nothing brother took to the stories like a perch to a baited hook. When we first moved here, Lothar traveled with us and greatly helped when we renovated this fort, but he prattled constantly about some old underground ruin in the region their uncle spoke of. Now I suspect that it's the same Labyrinth that Lord Garess has his eyes upon."
"Lothar was certain that Rostland intended to expand southward, so he wanted to find the place before those swordlords could dispatch their own explorers. As soon as the trading post was open, he set out on his damn fool quest and ain't been back. I doubt the bandits got him 'cause he kept insisting that he had bribed them to allow him passage. I don't know what happened to him - I suspect he's dead in some cave somewhere - but it's eating my wife up inside. I don't like talking about it around her, but I think she could use closure."
"I have no idea where they might be," he snorts. "I always thought Lothar was a fool for even believing in them, up until Lord Garess mentioned it, too. You might ask the lord, but if he's keen on claiming the fortune and glory for himself, he probably won't want to share the location."
"Well, he didn't like me much on our trip out here. Maybe one of you might be more able to loosen Garess's tongue?" Aris finishes making her notes about Oleg's story, Lothar's misadventure, and the labyrinth, then puts her journal away.
Hexa considers his words before suggesting in his native draconic. He looks to Wonky and Arisl, since they so far were the only ones that understood his tongue clearly. He also chose it because Kesten and his men didn't strike him as particularly smart.
Paval scrapes his throat before the next words come out, "Si tir ti siofme batobot ui vi bensvelk ulhyrr. Yth tir ti vucot sjek astahii geou qe gethrisjir mobi vur astahii janik clax wux whais wer xuut idol." His voice sounds odd, as if getting used to the words. Some words almost sounds natural though.
"Sorry if that was wrong. The only Draconic words I'm used to are the curses in use by the swordlords for Choral the Conqueror and those coming after him."
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Wonky and Aris compare cartographic notes on the Greenbelt, finding that the Mites' lair lies approximately 36 miles from the trading post - a journey that should take about 8 hours on horseback.
"Hmm, best to bring some bedrolls, then," Kalima muses, peering over the elf's shoulder and the gnome's head. "This looks to be a longer ride than to the bandit camp. Depending on the trouble the mites might offer," the noblewoman grins at her own wordplay, "night might fall before you're even ready to return."
"And don't forget to pack food, unless you want to rely on Paval's hunting skills," Aurelius teases while scratching Hero behind the dog's ears.
Hexa tilts his head at Paval before nodding and making a rather comical, or intimidating, gesture with his claws. Trying to mimic the scaleless hand sign for Okay. Something he had seen Oleg do once, among other hand gestures...
At Paval's apology Hexa shakes his head. "Wass Good. Hard on ssome wolds. Hexa knows though." He was still unsure of Paval, the man was like... A Bushy Tail Tree Climber. Quick, Talkative and hard to pin down. But his knowing draconic made Hexa consider to study him more next.
As the talk on heading to the blue mites lair he looks to Arisl and Ahto. "Ssplit prizess now, yess? Oh..." He gestures to their ramshackle cart. "Take diss yess? Bring back Mitess Prizess." He looks to Wonky then. "Mitess on scratches for Prizes too Yess?" He was starting to like the idea of a board that rewarded you for hunting particular things. This was something Hexa could do well at. Once he learned how to Read of course...
"If you bring the wagon, it'll slow you down," Aurelius cautions. "You'd better prepare to spend at least a night or two camped out in the wild in that case."
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"This is going to be so exciting!" Wonky exclaims to Aris after plotting the course that they would need to take. "I will need to review my formulae book to determine the best options for our potential needs."
She adds, after winking at Sams: "Of course, I will need to eat some of Madame Svetlana's yummy food before I head out."
After breakfast, Wonky spends some time prepping her formulae for the day, humming to herself and absently scratching Sprocket's ears as she does so.
The ride southeastward is long but uneventful. At one point, while crossing the plains closer to the forest's edge, you spot a strange creature like a large, striped dog in the distance, and it scampers into the woods. Otherwise, you only see flights of birds overhead or the odd rabbit leap into a thicket as you pass.
The tree where the Mites are known to lair comes into view while you are still several miles away, attesting to the old sycamore's prodigious size. The tree stands atop a crest where the land rises into a series of small hills, and you estimate that it must be at least 100 feet tall.
The entry had read:
Descended from even smaller fey, the mites are among the most pitiful and craven dwellers of the dark. Hideously ugly, even goblins have been known to mock mites for their homely appearances, mockery most mites take to heart and nurture for weeks, months, or even years in their tiny homes, until their distress and anger finally overcome their natural cowardice and impel them forth on short-lived bouts of bloody vengeance from the doubtful safety of a spider's back.
Mites, once closer to the strange realm of the fey, have grown larger and stockier after countless generations spent on the Material Plane. Yet still, their stature places them at the bottom of the pile in the dangerous caverns in which they live. Their traditional enemies are dwarves and gnomes, particularly the svirfneblin of the deep underground caves. The one thing that gives them a significant edge over an enemy in a fight is their natural ability to empathize with normally mindless vermin—mites are particularly fond of spiders, centipedes, and cave fishers, and a mite colony usually has a few of these far more dangerous monsters on hand to defend the group.
The detail about their natural enmity with gnomes was also responsible for this written knowledge becoming embedded in your mind. While studying the book, you had wondered whether your natural curiosity would be cowed by a reluctance to meet such nasty creatures in the field.
The illustration included alongside the entry certainly did not make them any more appealing.
Hexa was undaunted by not separating prizes. Instead he focused on getting the ring back and after downing another couple of bowls of soup. They head out, thisbtime Hexa brings Chacta. Another horse to carry things was better then no horse.
He leads when he cans along the way and when they see the stripped dog he tries to recall what he knows of the creatures of the area. Along the way he tries to keep the group fed or at least part of. Favoring Arisl and Wonky with the choice bits of what he catches...
Once they were at the tall dead tree he changes. He returns to a cold, aggressive state. What he needed to Kill the ugly blue things.
He checks his belts on his wooden armor, his bow string and the sharpness if his blades. Dragging his claws across whatever wood was near by to see if they stripped the bark or not. Satisfied he settles in and watches the sycamore for any sort of movement.
He has Tal heel and she falls into being sneaky as well...
"Do we want to risk the tree?" Aris looks up at its branches. The thing towers over everything else in the area, a mass of wood bigger than any tree she's seen. "We don't know what the tunnels below look like, or how much of Wonky's concoction would be needed, if it'd even work. If it takes too much, it could cause problems in the roots, or worse, a fire." She's careful not to say it's a bad idea outright, instead simply stating some of the risks.
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Wonky seems unsure of her concoction’s abilities to affect the mites.
”I can sedate vermin, of course, but mites are something entirely different.” She hurriedly replies to Aris’ concern. ”I could be sure to divert any smoke into the tree without risk of an incendiary reaction, to be sure, Aris, but I, too, share your concern about the actual volume of space that I would need to fill for a sedative effect to take effect - HA HA! - if it were to even work in the first.”
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"Smoke can be generated without a prodigious amount of flame," Ahto replies. "Even if it would damage the roots, why would this tree be worthy of protection over the score or so we cut down yesterday? Does this species of tree hold a particular significance to your people or their faith?"
Ahto's question is sincere.
Hexa nods in agreement with Arisl before looking around the dead tree. "Hexa look for other holess. Ways for Blue Mites to escape. No burn tree, fire burnss prizes."
With that said he starts stalking around the area, stealthily looking for anything amiss or obviously an entrance into the earth.
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Aris blinks, taking Ahto's question in as Hexa slinks away. "No, there's no faith-based reason not to try smoking these things out. It's just that..." She pauses. "Swordlord Koenig used to have this ferret, and one day, it got into the library. I was trying to catch it and knocked over one of the bookshelves. It hid in the piles of books and wouldn't come out, so I had to clean up the entire mess before I could catch it and get it out of the library.
"I'm just concerned about giving the mites even more defenses in there, and about giving them warning we're coming."
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"Do you propose entering the warrens, then?" Ahto replies in an even, inquiring tone. "The tunnels beneath that tree were dug for mites by mites; they will doubtlessly be small and cramped to all of us, except perhaps Miss Prong. If we enter, and are confronted, we will have to fight with small, close-quarter weaponry. I am not certain how that would be a better option than flooding the warren with a sedating smoke, then entering and dispatching the foul things while they are in a stupor."
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"I surmise what might be all the more effective would be the use of some enhanced illumination to overload the mite’s natural sensitivity to light. We may be able to exploit their vision to our advantage.”
Wonky looks around at the debate.
"Because of their delicate retinal alignment, I would deduce that these mites would be most active in the evening or night. At this time of day, it might be useful to do some reconnaissance, as I would estimate the mites to be likely at their lowest ebb of activity. I would be willing to explore, as long as I have Sprocket with me. He has quite a well-developed sense of smell, and likely would be able to warn me lest we run into a massive murder of mites."
Wonky blinks at Aris' confounded expression. "That is what a group of mites is referred to as, per Oden Snicklebocker's Treatise on Lesser Fey Beings. It fits, I think."
During the approach to the old sycamore, Hexa identified numerous tracks left within the long grass and mud by many small humanoids, leading back to the tree itself.
Unfortunately, the ground around the ancient tree's thick roots - each as wide as a man's torso - is so packed and trampled by patrolling feet, the hunter is unable to trace the tracks to a discernible entrance.
Hexa huff's at the overload of useless tracks overlapping other tracks, largely ignoring the debate until Wonky suggest she go into the mound. He was rubbing the trampled earth between his palms as he shook his head, the idea mind boggling to him. "Hexa no ssend hatchling alone." He was able to trace the tracks largely to the tree and reflected his confidence in being able to find the warrens entrance with his Swiftly hardening scales. "Hexa Come. Can ssee in dark and kiel little Mite t'ings." He brandishes some of his claws then, scrapping the oaks roots.
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Paval silently paced around the tree, looking for a possible entrance. When Hexa called Wonky a hatchling he couldn't suppress a hearty laugh, "You think Wonky is a child? I hate to break it to you, and it's not quite becoming to say this of a lady, but she is older than any of us except Aris. I think. I suspect she's older than my grandmother, gods rest her soul."
All the while he kept moving along the tree, though slower, and gently knocking on the tree, hoping for a hollow sound.
Paval's slower, more careful examination eventually reveals a hidden entrance.
Concealed among the undergrowth and gnarled roots, he finds an earthen, root-lined shaft that drops at least ten feet down into a dark tunnel.
These passages were definitely carved or burrowed with beings of smaller stature in mind. Except for Wonky and Sprocket, fitting into this lair will be a tight fit with little room for maneuvers or swinging weapons.
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Pavel's words made Hexa chuckle. "But sshe ssmall like hatchl-" Then it clicked. Hexa tilted his head so far to the right as he tried to comprehend what he had failed to see before. The mites were seemingly lost to him for a moment as he leaned over to look at Wonky more closely, tilting his head to the left and right. Her clothing and intelligence were the indicators he had wrote off in lieu of her overly excited hatchling like demeanor.
After a moment he chuckles, shaking his head before glancing sideways at Pavel. Nodding as he follows the man quietly. Clicking his tongue at the small entrance before saying. "Jock, ya Jock ve'y good." His disbelief made his tongue fumble.
He trips as he makes a sidelong glance at Wonky, leaning on Pavel hard enough to probably crumple the man before recovering. Pavel's words now made him doubt everything he knew and it visibly affected Hexa. As he recovered he looked from Arisl to Wonky and his scales lost color. Turning away quickly he focused on the tight tunnels they were about to enter.
Paval had no real time to react at Hexa's attempt to hide his true reaction as the big lizard leaned on him in such a way that he had to brace himself so he wouldn't double over.
Noticing how his eyes shifted from Wonky to Aris and how his scales lost color Paval moved up to him, clapping him on the shoulder. "I know it can be quite, well, strange to see the long lived races and how little they seem to age. But it's fine, most elves and gnomes are good folk and these two are for sure. Dwarves though, they tend to be grumpy." The last part was clearly added to lighten the mood.
As his right hand laid Hexa's shoulder something odd happened. The hand started to feel the scales on Hexa's back. The moment Paval realised he pulled his hand back and quickly put it away into the pocket of his coat.
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Ahto gives a small sigh of resignation, then proceeds to resituate his gear, trying to make it as compact as possible. During the process, he retrieves a torch from his pack and makes certain his dagger is within easy reach.
”We are going to have to enter single file. We should consider this carefully, since we may not be able to change positions once we are inside.”
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Wonky notices Hexa’s stumble and his squint at her.
”Oh, I must have suggested something offensive to you, Hexa,” she says to the hunter with a smile. She thinks briefly. ”Did Maester Snicklebocker release a volume of lizardfolk lore with apocryphal and poorly-sourced stereotypes? I can tell you that he has been roundly critiqued for that with the release of his difficult-to-find volume entitled Gross Grippli Grimoire.”
She adjusts her gear and crouches down to remove Sprocket’s makeshift harness. ”I apologise. Maester Snicklebocker is a polarising academic.”
"I very much doubt that, Wonky." Aris looks to the lizardfolk. "It's not a joke at all. I'll explain some of what Wonky's saying later, but she is, in fact, older. It's just that her species happens to be, as a general rule, fit for the insane asylum."
She loops her mule's lead around the big tree, putting her nonessentials on its back. "I'll make the assumption this won't be a several-day expedition into the mites' nest, and we'll be out by nightfall. I'd appreciate it if you'd protect me so I can do what I need to; I can make some interesting creatures that could help us, and I'll also make whoever our scout it invisible for a few moments when we enter a chamber in there."
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Ahto nods in response to Arisl's request. "Yes. I presumed that you would be towards the center, with armed and armored before and after you. It will, as you stated, make it easier to draw upon your magic in a combat situation. I would say to put Wonky in the middle as well, unless she intends to act as our scout. She may prefer to be at the front, as being in the middle will seriously impair her line of sight."
Hexa looks to Pavel wirelessly, unblinking, digesting this new turn of events. It is more then apparent to him now that among these people, and Aoi'si, he is the Hatchling. Hexa bows his head deeply to Wonky as he spoke in his native tongue.
He lifts head and gives Tal and Chacta a command, asking them to Guard this place for the group. He'd not force the pair into the tight earth, when the mites could come behind them and take their beasts while they were unaware. Tal gave it's usual head bob in response and Chacta flared his gums, snapping his teeth. The mites were bite size for the savage horse.
Nodding to Ahto he looks to the tight entrance and clicks his tongue in a reptilian *tsk*. "Hexa follow Aoi'Si Wonky." He puts away his weapons and brandished his claws. With his sight, the dark wasn't an issue for him and killing up close was simple. Protecting Wonky and Arisl would be his utmost concern. Aside from taking back a certain prize from the Mites.
The many roots lining the shaft make for an easy climb, but that will likely be the only easy part of exploring this lair.
The entrance descends to a cramped, earthen warren. The ceiling is a tangle of roots and rocks hanging down like miniature stalactites. Aris and Wonky surmise that these tunnels will afford a five foot vertical clearance, at most.
You stand - most of you hunched over - in a forty foot tunnel that runs east and west, as best as your dungeoneers can tell.
From the west come the snapping, grinding sounds of wood and tools. No sound comes from the east, but instead a vile smell wafts from that direction.