The wagon seems safe and still, besides some faint flapping of the torn canvas in the wind. Li can detect no danger in the immediate area.
With Poe keeping an eye out overhead and a few lingering back just in case of danger, Bendy's skin shimmers into an almost perfect camouflage, seemingly reflecting the colour of the rocks and frost of the area around him. The wily little gnome spies no danger around the outside of the wagon, and so hefts himself up on one of the wheels to peer inside.
Inside the wagon are the half-frozen corpses of three humans, apparently ineffectively huddled together in the corner of what was once their wagon. They are decked out in heavy winter travelling gear: wool-lined coats, heavy leather boots, and thick scarves. Their clothing seems a little tattered but is otherwise in good condition. They seem to have once gathered around a small wood-burning stove, but it was clearly not enough to keep them from succumbing to the cold temperatures.
Bendy watches them for a short time, ascertaining that they are not the living dead, but nothing inside the wagon moves at all.
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"Hey look, firewood! and a stove!" There's a pause as the well-traveled gnome realizes that this is not the only information that would be of interest to other people. "Oh, and a few dead bodies dressed for snowball fights. We should get them out and ourselves in!" He means the wagon, not the clothes, still not realizing that some in the group are not that well-equipped for snowball fights (or winter weather in general).
There's no sign of any horses or similar around here, not even any tracks thereof. They must have left the area (whether alive or in the stomach of some predator) some time ago.
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"Sounds sensible. It's going to be colder once we lose the sun."
Trig smiles shyly. "I confess I didn't think about the cold up here in the peaks. I could certainly use some of their clothing."
Trig's camping gear:
tent, bedroll, blanket.
Trig's in normal traveling clothes.
Appraise, untrained
Survival
Know(nature)
Trig searches around the nearby area for anything to help with improving the camp. On top of a rocky outcropping he's able to find what looks to be an old eagle's nest, if eagles made nests some five metres in diameter. Inside the nest is a collection of soft downy feathers and grasses that he's able to pilfer and bring back to help insulate the wagon. On top of that, he thinks he can probably pin down the flapping canvas cover of the wagon with some broken parts of one of the wheels plus some stones and rocks from around the area, which should really help to steel off the cold.
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Khale moves forward hearing Bendaxalon's description. Seeing the bodies, he bows his head and offers a brief prayer for their souls.
He looks at Arithas, "I agree. If the ground is thawed enough to dig, then we should do so. Otherwise, a simple rock cairn would suffice."
"Trig, their clothes cannot help them now, and they should be interred as they came into this world. I shall assist with the efforts to remove their clothing if you would be able to help distribute it as needed."
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Arithas Camping Gear:
Furs from centaurs
Bed Roll
Tent
Arithas will try to help Trig, at the bard's instruction since he has not been trained in such things. And finds that he doesn't quite get it, so instead goes off in search of more firewood, in case they decide to take the wagon (not travelling out of sight of the wagon).
Arithas is not able to find any extra firewood on a quick search of the nearby area.
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Bendaxalon wisely stays out of the way of the burial preparations, since he would be underfoot and not much use, like a human trying to help hill giants. He also finds that no one wants his help with the cold after he cites the gnomish adage, "Build a man a fire, and you keep him warm for a day; set a man on fire, and you keep him warm for the rest of his life." Feeling otherwise useless, the little sorcerer dons his cold weather gear and keeps watch while the others work.
Before the light fades, the Pathfinders and their esteemed Azlanti relics expert comb the nearby area for supplies that might help them through the night; however, only Li is able to find anything of particular use. The wise monk recalls a poem he once read, by an author unknown:
When snow has fallen
and the year drawn to its close,
it is only then
that we can see in the end
the pines do not change color.
Having seen a few scattered pine trees not too far behind where they came from, he is able to retrieve some pine cones that are especially useful as fire starters and kindling and keep the stove burning hot all night.
On watch: Khale, Li
On watch: Khale, Li
On watch: Khale, Li
On watch: Elysia, Trig
The Pathfinders huddle in to the wagon, snuggling underneath their acquired (or home made!) fur jackets and blankets and trying to eke every bit of warmth out of the cabin as they can. Those on guard outside the cabin are faced with an extremely unpleasant duty as chilling gusts from the mountain peeks constantly barrage the pass throughout the night, quickly sapping the warmth from the ground and from their bones. The scattered and light precipitation that came on and off throughout the day begins in droves overnight, and by midnight it is snowing quite heavily. Those on guard duty outside the wagon in the dead of the night have a terrible time of it all, and they thank the gods for the cold weather gear and Trig's handy skill at insulating the wagon for when they can crawl back inside.
During Trig and Elysia's watch, they hear the sound of a booming horn, far in the distance; it seems to be echoing between the peaks and is impossible to determine where it came from. Nothing seems to come of it, however.
When morning comes, the snowfall eases significantly, although grey clouds hide the sun. The day is particularly windy, with bone-chilling gusts threatening to blow you off course. Arithas' mule, having spent the entire night outdoors, seems particularly ill-mannered today, and you have to spend the morning brushing snow and frost out of his fur. Nester and Trig seem to have caught cold during the night; they can't stop themselves shivering and shaking, and they feel particularly lethargic.
Mindful of the questionable health of their companions, the group presses on through the winding mountain pass, although they must occasionally rest to allow Trig and Nester a chance to catch their breaths. The snow from last night makes your travel wet and miserable, and there is soon an unwelcome mix of mud and slush splattered over most of your body.
In the mid-afternoon, as the path winds around a large mountainside, a strange, glinting light catches your attention up ahead. There seems to be something on top of a rocky ledge some fifty feet away from here.
DC 16:
DC 17:
DC 18:
The raven flaps her way up the cliffside, struggling a little against the heavy winds, does a couple of circles in the air and returns to her master. She's quite brief in her reporting before snuggling back underneath Elysia's fur coat.
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Out of curiosity, Arithas drinks a mutagen to enhance his strength and climbs up! (+2 NatAC bonus, +4 Strength, -2 Intelligence
After about 40 seconds of struggling up the rock face, Arithas finally makes it to the top to check out the shiny shrine thing. "Well, that was only moderately difficult!" he says aloud.
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** Back at camp **
Trig adds to Elysia's question about the horn, "It was a big deep sound. The dwarves of Janderhoff use something that sounds similar to communicate through the peaks of their land."
Despite feeling cold and under the weather before leaving, Trig decides to conserve his few spells and foregoes casting a cure. Seeing Nester suffering similarly, Trig stays near the older man during the trip in case he needs aid.
** At the cliff **
Trig watches Arithas climb the cliff face. The elf is certainly making this exciting, but I do hope he doesn't fall.
"What's up there?"
Arithas hulks out and uses his alchemically-increased strength to drag himself up the cliffside. After a few moments of catching his breath, he takes in the sight that awaits him there.
Built into the mountainside is a small shrine. The centre of the shrine features a carved stone statue of a long-haired woman wearing heavy armor and holding a blade into the air triumphantly. Beside the statue are a couple of carved stone torches, and in front of it is a large, copper offering bowl filled with an assortment of coins and gemstones. A small engraving on the edge of the bowl reads:
Lady Kayle, May She Ever Watch Over Us
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Arithas calls down to his companion and describes what the shrine looks like. "There is also an inscription here that reads, 'Lady Kayle, May She Ever Watch Over Us'. This is beyond my expertise. Can anyone else decipher the meaning? Elysia, would Poe be able to tell if it is magical if she were up here?" He will stay up there and look around, his mutagen will last for approximately 9 more minutes.
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"Hmm." Bendax Brillam watches as the alchemy-enhanced elf exercises by free-climbing up the cliff; with such bulgy muscles, he supposes that it's hard for Arithax to find appropriate challenges. The little gnome counts himself lucky that he finds challenges all over the place, and doesn't need one here. Instead, he ties a grappling bolt to a silk rope, loads it into his crossbow, and fires it up the cliff. From there, it's a simple matter of climbing the rope; it might take him a minute , but there's no real chance of falling .
Daxal L'amor stands up, looks out over the group, and doesn't whistle or say "Nice view!" or anything like that. They've had incredible vistas for some time now, and he's getting bored of them. Instead, the curious sorcerer looks down at the bowl longingly. "What's with all the coins and gems and stuff?" He wants to pick them up to look at them closer, but dead people can be so selfish. You never know what might be cursed.
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Xalon Morrow considers Arithas's words carefully. The gnomes really value the insight that elves can give them into the thought processes of other goodly humanoids, since at least they're kind of fey, and the others are just so... alien. Especially humans. Absolutely baffling.
He looks around for a sign of the dragon, Maejerex Steeleye. But no, Kayle defeated it. So what is the donation for? He doesn't understand, but that doesn't mean that it's for naught. Obviously, others did it. He considers his pouch and decides to add a silver piece. "Thanks for killing the dragon! May it stay dead."
There's a chink of metal as the silver meets its fellows in the copper bowl, but no other noise. After a pause, Bendaxalon gives up, shrugs and rappels back down the silk rope.