"I suppose we'll have to give him the benefit of the doubt. The ring probably isn't enchanted but ask in case it is Ulark, it would really help in finding it."
Micheo nods.
"I can see the band of paler skin on a left finger. I believe him and would assist to find this ring."
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The giant, who introduces himself as Kardoblag, is overjoyed by Ulark's response. He settles his large rump down upon a broad, flat-topped rock and lets the party take over the search as he eases his equally broad, flat-topped head. Unbidden, he also regales you with the story of how he found himself in this predicament.
He met with some ogres the previous night, and they invited him to share the alcohol they brewed from fermented darkwood leaves. Around the logging camps, Ulark has heard stories of desperate lumberjacks attempting to create such a drink. It is a foul spirit that usually robs the imbiber of their sight, if they do not die outright.
Kardoblag slipped off his wedding ring when he noticed a comely female among the ogres, but any chance of a tryst was dashed when an argument erupted between the giant and the ogres regarding the proper way to roast a halfling. After smashing in each of the ogres' skulls, Kardoblag staggered away to sleep off the night's festivities, only to awake with a crushing hangover and no memory of where he left the ring.
He has no idea whether the ring or its mate are magic. He pried them off a pair of old dwarf statues near his home, closer to the mountains.
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'I do have to see this through to the end. If we don't, those lumber bastards are just going to keep their boots on the neck of this town. They'll keep making your lives worse.' Dugan frowns for a moment, thinking about the other children in this town and how they're all suffering. 'I talked to Jurin already, If he doesn't wise up and come see you, I want you to march up there and drag him out to play. Do it closer to the soldiers, though. As for Hollin, keep an eye on him for me. There's been too much strangeness around here lately. I hope the poor boy isn't under the evil eye of some foul beastie.'
'They get married?' Dugan looks legitimately confused at the thought of a giant wedding ceremony.
”It seems to me that the best way of going about doing this is finding the site of the battle with the ogres. If that is where the ring was slipped off, then it will likely be there.” Ulark said in both languages. ”But first, let me check something.” she again, translated in both tongues, a habit that was getting tiresome.
He Had seen a stout oak tree grew upon a ledge at the foot of the hill that Kardoblag had tumbled down. There, within a crevice or burrow hidden among the tree's thick, exposed roots, he saw see a glint of gold. It would be almost impossible to spot when looking from the giant's height. He hoped that the ring would be there, so as to avoid a detour on their journey.
Micheo also sees the glint and advances with Ulark.
He adds:
"The giant appears to be happy to cheat on his wife and perhaps eat halflings. I am conflicted about this but I did agree to assist him."
Ulark and Micheo pry the source of the glint from its warren, and it proves to be a large golden ring sized for a giant's finger. Dugan finds it familiar, as it resembles the gold accents inlaid upon old dwarven statues and columns that littered the territory of the Vifstaurvolk.
There is little time to mull this over, for Kardoblag charges over with large, bounding steps. He rips the ring from your grasp and attempts to shove it back on his knotted finger, but the effort proves too difficult for him. He falls back, landing first on his broad rear end, then flopping over onto his back.
He groans in hungover misery, but he gurgles out something that Ulark can dimly recognize as a "thank you."
When he makes no move to rise, you presume that you are now free to make your exit and continue on your way.
”We should leave.” Ulark said, in common. ”The Giant does not seem evil of heart, but who knows what actions he might take?” He regarded it the way one might any wild animal.
"He argues about how to cook a halfling properly... but that might be common cooking knowledge but killing him while he's sleeping doesn't sit right with me either. Lets move one... maybe he'll wake up with a foul temper and smash any pursuing consortium agents."
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You hurry onward lest the giant's reward be exactly as violent as Inconnu predicts. You leave the moaning lunk behind you, an unexpected obstacle for ill-fated pursuers. The terrain becomes increasingly rugged and wild as you press south and east along the river.
As the afternoon wears on, a new sight comes into view. Across the River Foam, you espy a small stone building with a domed roof. Drawing closer, you realize this is likely the shrine that Micheo spoke of. Perched atop a limestone outcropping at the apex of a shallow hill, the walls and colonnades are made from granite, likely hewn from the hills you now travel.
A simple rope and plank bridge spans the river gorge, leading towards the shrine's hill.
"I think before we go over we beseech the Goddess for her aid. When we go over we should travel with the lightest first with a rope around their waist." He sighs looking at his heavily armoured and large allies. "Thats probably me. These old bridges don't see much maintenance. Ulark say fifteen feet behind me. Once we are over the rest of you might want to remove your armour, if you fall in it will offer you anything but protection."
"As Ulark and I go over you can anchor us with the rope looped around a nearby tree. Then ye can secure yourselves once we have set up on the other side. If someone falls in they can perhaps pull themselves back onto the bridge and failing that we can haul them towards the shore."
”You are right, we can’t let haste endanger us now.” Ulark said, impressed with Inconnu’s quick thinking and solid plan.
The wooden boards sigh softly beneath Inconnu's boots. The taut ropes offer little sway, and the boards remain firm. He leads the rope across with no incident, and even Ulark's slightly heavier frame poses no problem to the bridge.
The boards used in this bridge are relatively fresh, cut and planed only in the past few months. Perhaps someone has been maintaining the bridge?
As you cross the bridge, you observe that someone has been maintaining it.
You assess that it should be strong enough to support Micheo and Dugan, even in full armor.
”This is good wood. New and only recently planed. Wouldn’t say any more than a few months. Bridge is safe, but we certainly aren’t alone. Let’s get a move on!”
"As you say, Ulark. Let us cross with alacrity!"
Inconnu made sure to move around a tree on the other side to help brace his allies on the other side "Keep your armour on but put the rope around your waist. Someone's been maintaining it and it should hold your weight."
"As you say, Inconnu!"
Having safely crossed the bridge, you stand at the foot of the broad but flat-topped hill that cradles the Shrine of St. Elth. Natural limestone forms the foundation, while the shrine itself is made from simple but sharply chiseled limestone blocks. In a city or town, the shrine would look minuscule. Standing as the only structure for several miles in any direction, though, makes it look far larger, even though it is little more than a stone shell around the site.
The tiled floor inside is only lightly littered with dead grass, leaves, and dirt. There are signs that it is periodically swept, so much like the bridge, someone is tending to the shrine. A large statue dominates the rear of the shrine, depicting a cleric of Sarenrae standing protectively over a young soldier, laying wounded upon the ground. The wall behind the statue is carved to make it appear as though a halo of divine radiance surrounds the cleric's head.
A brass plaque affixed to the pedestal tells the story behind the site.
May his saintly rest within this holy ground be eternal.
A simple altar to Sarenrae, a stone statue of the Dawnflower's emblem, stands in the center of the shrine. A common funerary prayer from the faith is etched upon its base. The walls are adorned with frescoes that depict sunlight motifs accompanied by Sarenite symbols, such as the angelic ankh.
Micheo reads the plaque and reverently strolls around the shrine, clearly rapt.
"This would have been worth a journey in itself.", he says in a lowered tone.
”Proof that we chose the right path. It seems like as good a place as any to rest. Shall we go in?”
Dugan stands just outside the shell, scanning the surrounding area for signs of life. 'Nice place, quiet.'
"Seems like an idea. While I rest my feet I can use a little magic to clean a few bits and make some repairs."
Despite stories about the eponymous predators roaming the Wolfrun Hills, no such dangers present themselves as the sky fades into a dazzling orange. Nevertheless, you see a number of smaller animals: hares and skunks amble across the hillside, and the occasional falcon wheels across the sky.
As Dugan stands guard, a familiar critter peers around the corner of the shrine's walls.
Innconu notices a change in his magic as he casts spells within the shrine. There is no increase in its power, but the spells' light seems to glow brighter and the magic flows more freely from his body.
In the night, you can hear the howls of wolf packs in the distance, roaming unseen across the far hills. Thankfully, the mournful calls never draw close to the shrine. You find a restful sleep in the shrine's protection, and in due time the east-facing door welcomes the first threads of dawn.
"Most excellent, Inconnu."
If there are any plants that require tending, Micheo puts some labour into those, showing at least a little knowledge on the subject.
"I think the Dawn Flower approves Micheo." Inconnu comments as the energy of the spell glows more brightly. "Perhaps she might turn her gaze to us at some critical point once more during this journey."
Micheo discovers a few natural treats growing among the scrub and shrubs of the hillside. He finds many clusters of appleleaf, a low-sitting plant that grows in groups of four leaves and tastes of slightly bitter apples when eaten.
On the western face of the hill, he finds a broad shrub of dowmberries. Although this popular desert usually does not come into season until late summer, these ones appear to have grown early. His farming acumen allows Micheo to harvest a decent number of the just-ripened berries while avoiding the massive thorns that also grow upon such plants.
The sunrise shines upon a clear, cloudless sky. The soft wind rolling down from the mountains to the north promise to keep the spring day from growing too hot. Whatever surprises the new day of travel might hold, it seems at least the weather will be on your side.
Micheo shares his find of berries with the others.
"Just ripe. Another sign of the Dawn Flower's favour I hope."
Dugan crouches with a small portion of dried meat for the fox. 'Been awhile since we seen you. Then again, we've been down in holes and in towns.' He holds a hand out for the fox to sniff. 'You stay close. Come running if you get in trouble.'
”A good sign. But let’s not let our guard down. The sign of a goddess’ favor might well mean her enemies are against us.” Ulark said, feeling somewhat worried at the string of good fortune.
After finishing breakfast and securing your belongings, you acquit yourselves of the comparative comfort of the remote shrine. You cross the bridge and return to the northern side of the river to continue your trek. Following the Foam's course makes it hard to lose your way, so the prime challenge remains avoiding natural hazards, such as fissures, loose rocks, and geysers.
Micheo smiles at Ulark's words.
"It is best to be warned then. You do travel with a servant of the Dawnflower, after all. Her enemies would surely see us as foes."
”Consider me warned.” Ulark smiled back. ”Chances are Id see them the same way, regardless.”
Dugan is practically at home among the Wolfrun Hills. He immediately picks out the safest path and guides the party away from the narrow but dangerous steam vents that line the rough stone formations along the way. You occasionally observe - or merely hear - streams of heated water hissing as they pour from the side of the gorge and drop down to the cold rapids below. Dugan warns you well away from these steaming fonts lest a sudden burst of gas cause the eruption of a geyser.
The sound comes from your left, originating from the northeast. It does not sound very far. Turning your eyes in that direction, you estimate its source to be among the jagged ravines that divide the Wolfrun Hills in twain.
However, with the echo of the surrounding hills and gullies, you have trouble placing its source.
Micheo does not seem discomfited by the high temperatures, reminding you of his past words on his outsider blood.
Suddenly, the paladin's head turns to his left.
"There. I hear a man calling for aid, to the northwest. I do not think it far. We should intervene immediately."
He begins to move in that direction.
"It might be a lure for some beast so be aware as we approach."
Dugan snorts at his companion's rush to place himself in danger to save another. He shrugs and resigns himself to the rescue party, retrieving a rope. 'I have a feeling we'll need this one way or the other.'
Inconnu has heard tales of creatures that can imitate a person's voice and lure them into danger. However, he cannot name any that might lair among these hills.
You leave behind the hills overlooking the River Foam and pick your way through the jagged transition zone that divides the Wolfrun Hills into its eastern and western halves. The terrain here is rugged, a scar left by the Rending. Only tougher plants grow here: gorse and stunted trees.
The man's voice is soon overtaken by the sounds of dogs that grow louder as you approach. Rather than wolves, you find a pair of hunting hounds nervously pawing atop a ravine. One keeps its attention trained down in the ravine, whimpering. The other turns towards you and barks, but the sound is more imploring than warning.
"Hello? Is someone there? Help me, please!" the voice calls from down in the ravine.
"Dugan, a fine call on the rope."
Micheo turns to the ravine.
"Help is near! Can you climb a rope if we lower it?"
'These your dogs?' Dugan calls down as he attempts to approach the dogs, holding up the rope and showing he intends to help.
The dogs bray at Dugan's approach, reluctant to let the armored dwarf any closer. Their fur bristles and they lower their heads.
"Groff! Griff! Heel!"
The pained voice rises from the ravine and instills calm in the dogs, though they remain quite uneasy.
Reaching the edge and peering down, you discover a man trapped in the narrow ravine below. He wears the clothes of a noble hunter, although they are tattered from an evident fall. He is bruised and dirty, and blood trickles from many small scrapes.
"Thank the gods," he groans, craning his neck to look up at his potential rescuers. "Please, help me. I stumbled and fell while doing some hunting. My leg is wedged between the rocks, and I can't get free!"
Short strands of hair from his widow's peak are caked upon his dirt-smeared face with sweat. The ravine is unusually humid, and thin wisps of steam lazily curl out from narrow fissures along the fifty-foot length of the ravine, which is only ever ten feet across at its widest near the top.
Someone strong is going to have to climb down there and help him get his leg free. If they slip I can cast feather fall and provide some healing when he is back up here. Ulark you are strong and lightly armoured, you might be the best person for this task?"
"A fine idea, Inconnu. I am bulkier but I can seize the rope on this end and haul him up."
Hearing the cry for help, Ulark froze. His eyes remained fixed on the spot. After a moment he shuddered, and his features shifted into that of his angelic ancestor. Without speaking a word, he took the rope (once secured) and descended.
"Wait Ulark." Inconnu casts heroism on Ulark before he descends.
The trapped man is awed into silence as the narrow window of sunlight above him is eclipsed by the descent of Ulark in his angelic aspect. The divinely touched lumberjack easily picks his way down the ravine without slipping or tumbling himself.
"Thank you," the man babbles, regaining his voice. "My name is Bartram. Bartram Wolfshire. I was out doing a spot of hunting when I took a bad step."
He emphasizes his plight by again trying, in vain, to wrench his leg free.
The quickest way to free Bartram is to push aside the boulder that pins his leg against the rock face. This will require a significant amount of strength, but fortunately for Bartram, one of the strongest men in the Vale is now beside him.
In this aspect, Ulark didn’t say a word. Rather he just looked at the man with his gold-tinged eyes. He didn’t so much as look at the man’s body, but at his soul. Was there enough evil in there to detect? If so, he would know. Without a word he went about methodically freeing the man.
As he worked to free the man, Ulark heard the sound. He continued at the task, heedless of the danger. He had set his mind to this, and he wouldn’t back down.
[smaller]"Ulark you've got something approaching!" Inconnu keeps his voice low.
"I'll try to draw it off." Inconnu moves down along the edge and casts ghost sound focusing it down the gulch hoping the rustling sounds he was creating would divert the creatures attention even for a few precious seconds.
Unable to see a threat, Micheo turns to Inconnu.
"I can jump down Inconnu if you will cast your magic to slow my descent. Just say the word!"
The paladin readies himself to do just that, on Inconnu's affirmation.