|
The Goodberries seem to be rather nourishing, and just one is enough to remove the damage dealt by the cold.
Watching carefully, Raoul notes that the glinting light stays fairly static and he detects no movement.
Amris manages to wrangle his way up there, leaving a rope behind him for others to make an easier trip up. On the height above, a small statue of a woman complete with a nearby shrine rests on the ledge. The glinting light seen from the path is the sun’s reflection off a number of coins and gems in the shrine’s offering bowl.
Amris recognises the statue to be of Lady Kayle, a Taldan adventurer who sacrificed herself so her comrades could defeat the great dragon Maejerex, who terrorized the Isle of Kortos until 4592 ar.
|
Grogson decides it will be necessary to more thoroughly research his route before venturing out into the wild as we watches some of his less stout companions bear the pain of unpreparedness. As they venture down the mountain and scramble up the cliff,the dwarf holds at the base of the cliff maintaining a watch till they return.
|
|
Jivokun was still shivering under his furs and the extra clothes as they descended to a lower altitude. He shook his head and raised his eybrows at Amris chasing the glint of light...cacacacrazy rrrrisking himself lalalike that.... but mostly because he knew his stiff fingers would've never made the climb.
He flet much better after eating one of the good berries that the man horses gave them and realized that..it was probably worth checking out at the least...
|
|
Pozuket drops his backpack and with some effort, climbs up the rope to examine the shrine.
"I wonder what inspired them to locate this shrine in such an out-of-the-way place? Is this the spot where she perished? How are people supposed to visit without climbing gear?"
Pozuket looks around for an alternative way to reach this area, and then at the shrine itself to see if there is anything worth noting.
|
|
Was there even enough worth taking?
Jivs couldnt imagine that many devout people having come through here and making the effort of the climb just to drop a coin on an altar... but to each his own I suppose...
Yes, let's keep moving. I'm already tired of having to wear these furs...plus they itch something terrible.
|
|
Amris can survey the path ahead from his vantage point, and the swamp can clearly be seen in the distance. It has the slight haze of a fog laden bog, and he struggles to feign excitement about its potential pleasures. It looks both cold and damp, not quite a tropical vista; the only blessing is the likely absence of mosquito swarms.
He feels a surge of warmth rushing through his body after donating, and feels more positive about what the day might bring – regardless of its moist promises.
Strangely, no ‘friendly’ path is evident to the shrine – it seems rather out of the way and in an out of the way place, but well patronised regardless.
Raouls paranoias seem unfounded, at this point.
**
Thick blobs of fog dance in between large tickets as the foul stench of swamp gas pollutes the air. Several exotic species of vines twist along the vapor-shrouded path, creating an ethereal seeming tangle. At random intervals, a splash of fetid water sounds in the distance, signaling the presence of frogs or other bog creatures. Thousands of leeches infest the swamp’s pools, and anytime one of you falls into a shallow bog, time is wasted removing the persistent parasites, generating black humour and significant irritation on the party.
As you all progress through the bog, the thick rolling fog begins to disperse, allowing you to see where you step. Despite the increased visibility, this area of the swamp is difficult under foot, as the muck and vegetation thicken further.
Ahead of you, a large log rests across a dirt path, standing five feet tall. A moldering wood door covers one of the hollow ends of the log, and a makeshift mud chimney emits a thin wisp of blue smoke. From behind the crude house comes the sound of someone humming an off-key tune.
|
|
Pozuket winces as the off-key notes reach his ears as he slogs through the muck. "Who would want to live in such a disagreeable location? I'm quite sure no one would suspect us of having taken this route, because it is absolutely miserable. Freezing mountains, bug-riddled swamps..." The gnome sighs. "At least they could have warned us what types of terrain we should expect, so we could have prepared. Isn't that what Grandmaster Torch was protesting?"
|
|
Aranan calls out his arrival and the music stops suddenly, as do most of the sounds in the swamp. After a few moments pause and wonder whether there will be a response, a small person climbs on top of the log and starts yipping and yelling in your direction, waving a club about in a threatening manner.
Amris recognises the language as Draconic and it seems the creature is concerned about its 'babies', its 'preciouses', and generally inferring a messy outcome should the party encroach upon its log.
|
|
Thsi is exactly what he was referring to...and unfortunates like Maurit and her crew. Why didn't they tell us to look for other Pathfinders? Not one word about a missing group...not one single word...
Jivo's tirade trailed off when the strange kobold started making a fuss.
Those things again? Ugh! Cant we go around and leave it in peace?
|
|
Raoul listens to the kobold's rantings, and does his best to aid with his companions in calming the female kobold.
Something about the kobold's earnest pleadings causes the elf to feel some semblance of pity for the creature. Though not skilled with words, Raoul feels compelled to assist in calming and helping this kobold. He places his hands palms together in front of him and speaks to the kobold.
"Tovarășii mei și vreau să spun nici un rău. Există nici un fel te putem ajuta, în schimbul direcții pentru cea mai ușoară cale prin această mlaștină?"
|
|
Everyone puts on their nicest demeanours, and it seems that what began as a nice gesture of friendly greeting by Amris and the extra input by a few fluent in Draconic ends in the small creature lowering its stick a little and cutting back with the sharp comments.
"Apoi, puteți merge în jurul valorii, nu se apropie de copiii mei!"
The figure yips and barks, indicating a large arc with its stick.
Then you can go around, do not get close to my babies!
|
|
Raoul nods at the kobold's request.
"It seems that our excitable friend here has her 'babies' close by and she just wants to make sure that we avoid them. So long as we keep a wide berth, we should be fine. On we go."
Raoul leads the way, making sure to keep plentyof room between himself and the kobold and her house.
|
|
Giving the swamp creature its distance you pass safely and continue on through the swamp and move to the coast.
Within a few hours the sleepy fishing village of Piers End comes into view, the place offering a warm inn, a hot meal, and the opportunity to make arrangements for travel to the Isle of Erran and the port of Escadar.
|
|
The party keeps their ears open whilst they talk amongst the villagers and fishermen, they determine that there a few options. Amris seems to be off his game this day though, perhaps finding the smell of fish ruining his otherwise good banter.
You manage to find out that there are three likely people in the village that would be willing to provide passage for a price; a human woman, Darice; a male halfling, Small Otti; and a old male human, Tanner.
- Darice never knew her father, and many villagers whisper that he was a member of the Pathfinder Society. Small Otti values his coin, for he has many mouths to feed—most importantly, his own. Tanner’s skill at sea is unmatched, but so is his lunacy; take a boat ride with him and you might ride straight into a squall.
- Darice resents never knowing her father and some say she longingly caresses the trinket he left behind for her. Small Otti has a weakness for fine food and drink, and any deal with him is made sweeter if food is involved. Some whisper that Tanner is not actually crazy, but no one is brave enough to find out.
|
|
After considering the reasoning of his companions, Raoul speaks up, "With due respect to you, Pozuket, I must concur with Amris. Knowing what this Otti fellow's motivations are does give me some comfort. Let us speak with the halfling, and if he proves to be untrustworthy, then we can try this Tanner fellow."
|
|
You make your way to speak to the Halfling captain about passage to the Isle.
Small Otti appears to be making an effort for his lack of height by simply working on his girth instead. The well groomed portly fellow is just finishing off what appears to be his ‘elevenses’, in this case a fat slice of cake, as you enter to make your enquiries.
”Escadar eh?” he says through half a mouthful, distractedly wiping crumbs off his tunic ”Reckon that would be fifty five gold crowns for you all” he juts forward a bloated little hand as though a deal has just been struck.
|
|
"Come, come now. Let us be civilized folk and discuss any potential contract over a meal and tastey drink. The road has been hard for my friends and I. A warm meal does wonders to clear the mind and refresh the soul.
You really must try some of the jelly on these biscuits, they are to die for. So just between men of taste, what is the best price we can come to for such a routine journey? If nothing else it would give us a chance to exchange conversation over some seabourne meals."
|
|
"Yes, yes, a meal is in order. Won't be long now until the next one is due either. Reckon for a fellow who has a good eye for a meal perhaps I could do a bit of a bargain for such a likeminded chap. Biscuits eh? Not bad. Couldn't live on them, barely count as a snack really. Reckon the journey across isn't all that long maybe and perhaps we could make it twenty five, any of you happen to cook?"
The Halfling continues on that theme, now more keen to talk about the culinary delights of a small fishing village rather than any journeys.
|
|
Pozuket frowns at Aranan. "I'm aware that it's sometimes hard for humans and their ilk to tell individuals of other races apart, but surely you know the difference between a gnome and a halfling?"
-------
Pozuket stays quiet during the discussion with the gnome, letting the others attempt to bargin with the round one. It's rather unlike him to be so quiet, actually. His practiced face does a good job of concealing his feelings, but his posture is very closed.
|
"Pozuket, I'm sorry, I misheard the man. I honestly thought they said it was a gnome, and I assumed with the talk of his joy in things, that he was a gnome. I even referred to him as such. I am deeply sorry, my friend."
-----
Aran listens and nods as the halfling talks and eats, watching Pozuket with a sad disgrace for having offended his friend.