After a time, Reynwyn stands and walks over to the others, glancing at the letter. "Head it here, Revjak. I'll look over it. Even if it's not a language we know, I have a ritual now that allows me to understand any language if given enough time to cast it." He will take the folded parchment and open it.
"Aye, Reynwyn, have a look at it. And I would also press on!"
Reynwyn unfolds the parchment, revealing a map of Ardeep Forest. It contains far more named locations than the map you've been using up until now, however. Here it is!
It seems that you've exhausted the under-level of the Phylund Lodge, and you return upstairs. It seems that your rescued captive is beginning to stabilise through the night, although he seems very deyhdrated, his lips dry and cracked, and his tongue somewhat stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Reynwyn's eyes light up as he recognizes it to be a map which he shares with the others. "It's a map of the forest. Perhaps we should return to Nightstone to investigate some of the rumors regarding this creature Arthur is hunting. I am in a mood to kill monsters."
Once back up with Lord Phylund, Reynwyn will give him all the water he has within his waterskin and some trail rations. "Carric, Revjak perhaps you both could gather us up something more exciting than rations for dinner? I'm sure Lord Phylund could do well with some real sustenance for a change."
Carric nods, Aye,we can rustle up something better. Come, Rev, how about a hunt?
"Part of me still wants to pursue the Red Wizard and his' gnolls but Lord Phylund is in no shape for such a trek. We can care for him to some degree here but we should get him back to his family, they must be worried."
"Carric, I am not known for avoiding a hunt!", Revjak replies, immediately rousing himself.
Once back up in the manor Revjak and Carric head out into the night to find game, while Arthur and Reynwyn set up the camp properly and tend to your unconscious ward. The two hunters return after an hour with three large rabbits and a range of wild herbs and tubers, which they set to preparing for a late meal.
As the meat and vegetables near completion, the aromas wafting through the stables, the unconscious man begins to stir. His forehead still slick from fever, and his eyes ringed with shadow, he struggles up onto his elbows, looking around the room groggily. Seeing you all looking at him curiously, he blinks slowly. "I don't know who you are," he murmurs in a deep baritone, "but I'm guessing I have you to thank for still being alive."
"We're the company of the Blue Axe from Waterdeep. The Red Wizard and it's gnolls are gone now finished with their schemes here. Perhaps you might have overheard what they were up to?"
The man nods slowly. "You have my thanks, Companions. I was sure the ending of my life was but a formality," he growls. "My name is Urtos. This is my lodge. My..." His head drops forward, his matted shoulder-length hair now hiding his gleaming eyes. "The wizard and his gnolls, they killed all my people. He raised my ancestors as his minions. But luckily the White Ghost left before he turned his attention on me. That creature was... a true terror." He looks up again, and the faint tears welling in his eyes don't diminish from the fury in his gaze. "Come the morning, I will hunt them. Though it will probably be the death of me, I will bring the fury of Tempus upon them!" Urtos looks at the rest of you once more, one at a time, directly in the eyes. "You must tell my wife of what has happened. She must know."
Reynwyn listens to Urtos Phylund with a frown. "Milord, why not come back to Waterdeep to your lady? I spoke with her briefly before we departed the city and she had become worried about your disappearance. She misses you dearly. If you cannot be dissuaded from your course, then I give you my word that I will make sure she knows of your fate. I am sorry for the horrors you suffered at the hands of those beasts."
Running after them, while noble, is fraught with potential disaster. They are formidable, and would likely make quick work of you, sir. I strongly recommend returning to your wife and taking this opportunity as a fated course. You have suffered enough.
Arthur's demeanor changes, taking on an air of focus and determination. "The White Ghost, describe him to me."
Lord Urtos begins shaking his head, ready to argue with Reynwyn and Carric, but when Arthur queries him about the White Ghost in a low, urgent tone he stops and regards the half-elf seriously. "A gnoll. Huge. Less... unthinkingly bestial than than the rest of them, but still a bloodthirsty freak. And white. Completely pale, but for his pink eyes, yellow teeth, and a ragged scar that runs down the length of his chest. A more horrible creature I've never met."
The burly noble winces as he shifts his weight, stretching out one knee. "But he left, with most of the regular spotted gnolls, some days ago. I heard him say he would find Reluraun's Tomb, that it was no myth. He tried to convince Grynn - that's what they called the Red Wizard, Thegger Grynn - to go with him, but the foul necromancer was too enamoured with our family crypt. I'll wager he took everything, including my great-grandfather's sword, Bloodbane. F~!+," he swears under his breath.
Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath "It twists my stomach to let the Red Wizard get away but the Albino? The evils of his creation are all too well known to me. Lord Urtos needs to be helped but that map marks the tomb to the north west of here following the river."
"Real or a figment it is a direction for the scum. If we go back to Waterdeep the trail will be too cold to pick up and my only resort will be the hope that the wretch has run afoul of an ancient trap."
"The smart thing would be to turn back now... my heart is not in it however. It would take us a few days to get to the tomb my healing abilities might offer the Lord some balm but if the beast stalks this way through the forest with it's wicked work done there might not be enough time."
"I say we hunt the white wretch!", yells Revjak, stamping the end of Azuredge on the ground. "Let us not let the trail grow cold and terrors rise!"
Urtos continues to regard Arthur thoughtfully. "I have seen the White Ghost's terror first hand. But it seems you have also. Tell me, what is your quarrel with him? What has he done to make you hate him so much?"
"In any case, if you choose to pursue him, you will do so without me. I hunt alone. My prey is the wizard Grynn, but even if our quarries are together, I must go my own way. I appreciate your help, and whether I survive or not I'm sure you will be rewarded by House Phylund. I leave shortly, as soon as I have gathered some things and surveyed the wreckage those monsters have made of my lodge." He makes to stand, but staggers initially before taking a deep breath and clambering heavily to his feet.
Reynwyn nods his understanding. "Perhaps after we have dealt this blow to the White Ghost we may be able to pick up your trail and join you. I would not mind further vengeance upon that Thayan..." His voice trails off as his fingers brush the black raven ring upon his hand. He stands with Lord Phylund. "Should the worst come and you do not return from your hunt. Is there something I could give your wife so that she will know it was from you? A token? A phrase?"
"Aye, I would hunt that Red rat also. He had strong gnolls by him, the only reason he yet draws breath."
"The Albino is no normal gnoll, it is a flind. They are rare gnolls more powerful than the others... this one is particularly evil. I have heard many vile deeds committed by this creature following it but I first heard of it several years ago."
"There is a glade, hidden from many in Guthmere forest. At it's center is a large and ancient oak. The Albino had previously captured a druid who knew of it's existence days before. It descended with it's gnoll like a flood, amongst the root of the tree and beneath it's branches lie a shrine. A dryad, beautiful and wise, a velnerable guardian of the glade was torn to piece. The place despoiled and it's contents sacked. That creature is evil."
Sounds like something we may want to do something about. I am certain we could track this thing down.
"I am with you on this, Arthur. Then perhaps we could attempt to follow Lord Phylund's trail."
Lord Phylund eats with you all, thanking you again for saving his life. He gives you several pointers on travelling to Reluraun's tomb, noting especially that the Crypts of the Deepening Moon should not be disturbed. At Reynwyn's question he thinks for a moment, then responds. "If I fail to return to Waterdeep, please let my wife Lythis know what happened here. Give her this, if you will," and he passes you a finely wrought dagger bearing the crest of House Phylund. "If I'm dead it will belong to my son. Hopefully, I can return with Bloodbane as well."
Having finished his meal, Urtos stands and prepares to leave immediately. Waving down any protests, he says, "I'm a hunter. I know this forest, and I have spent many hours under its boughs in the moonlight. The night suits me." He collects his bags, as well as his weapons and an old, tarnished breastplate. "Again, my thanks, and good luck on your own pursuits." He nods and passes out into the night.
Carric wakes after the long rest, refreshed and prepared to track the enemy.
There is nothing like having something to hunt down...
Carric sorts his supplies and replenishes his pack from what he can at the lodge. He heads out to prepare the horses, and he awaits the others as he goes over the directions to the tomb in his head, ready to lead his companions.
"Good hunting to you, Lord Phylund! May we meet again with victory under our belts!"
"Good luck and take care." Arthur felt conflicted but the Lord seemed of sound mind... He does his best to aid Carric navigate the route.
1st of Marpenoth, 335 NR (1367 DR)
After a good night's rest, you all awaken to the first day of autumn . The wind is fresh and the skies are grey and heavy with unshed rain. It is hard to believe how much occurred during the previous day, and you all feel a deep weariness in your bones that a full night's sleep has not quite managed to dispel. Still, you wake with a purpose, and after a swift breakfast you all set to packing up to leave without delay.
Lord Phylund's directions were straightforward, and the river is easy to follow. He suggested you camp near the meeting of the two tributaries of the River Ardeep, which, though only a little over ten miles from the lodge, takes most of the day to reach given the density of the trees as you head deeper into the heart of the forest.
Carric, with Arthur's assistance, recons a likely camp area on the western side of the river fork, and is about to declare it suitable when he notices something that gives him pause: a tree whose bark has been shredded in long, vertical, parallel grooves. He silently points the marks out to Arthur, who frowns and shakes his head immediately.
The half-elf bard quickly explains that these are signs of the presence of owlbears. They do this both to keep their foreclaws razor sharp and to mark their territory, which normally ranges from one to two miles in diameter. Furthermore, these scratches are as large as any Arthur has seen in the Gulthmere Forest, or anywhere. Such a behemoth of an creature is also likely to have a large and healthy mate with it too, and if the pair have cubs they will be searching constantly for food for the entire family before the winter period of hibernation.
In short, this could be a dangerous spot to rest, given that that owlbears hunt during both day and night.
Let us push on a little further and I can find a suitable campground, even in failing light.
"Aye, we can make it farther."
Let's push on along the same side of the river as our destination, but only far enough to remove ourselves from the Owlbear Territory, by checking for sign.
"So long as it does not sway us from the bastard's trail, I am for that."
"Normally I'd expect the territory to be one or two miles in diameter but given this ones size lets travel for three in case it ranges further while hunting."
The group moves off into the dusk shadows, following the northeastern fork for a couple of hundred yards before reaching the ford Urtos described. Crossing over, Carric leads the party on for another mile or so, until he and Arthur are reasonably sure they're out of the owlbear's territory.
However, just as the elf and half-elf are about to call a halt in the near total darkness, you all see that you have reached what seems to be a wall of tightly intertwined trees, with brambles poking out from between them. The trail, however, leads to a small gap in the living barrier. From what you can see (those with darkvision, unless you've lit some kind of light source), a thick, soupy fog swirls from within the gap onto the path. You turn to each other, all of you thinking the same thing: Urtos didn't mention anything about this.
Pretty sure we do NOT want to camp outside that, whatever it is. I say we investigate.
Carric peers through the brambles.
"It would be a tense watch! What lies beyond?"
Revjak squints at the gap himself.
Arthur peers curiously at the area ahead before checking the ground for clear tracks, trying to divine how recent the gnolls moved through here and in what number.
You don't see any recent gnoll tracks... In fact, you don't see many tracks at all, despite being near the heart of a large forest. You do notice the acrid odour coming from the mist, though.
You don't notice much beyond the initial description.
"Remaining here is foolishness. We either circle around or push through."
"I see no tracks, we may well have beaten them here. That mist smells wrong. Let's try to clear out the first chamber and take shelter there if it's suitable."
Carric proceeds with a nod into the opening with an arrow drawn to his bow.
Revjak is ready to advance, Azuredge in hand.
You all advance into the swirling mist, entering what is effectively a passageway through the twisted, tangled, intertwined trees. As you enter in, you find that the fog has a slightly acrid odour. You continue on cautiously, making your way along the ten-foot-wide corridor of trees and foliage. As the moon rises, though you can't see it, it begins to illuminate the fog in some areas, suffusing it with an eerie blue-white glow.
After a few minutes all of you halt as you hear a snarl and a yip echo through the mists from directly ahead - noises that are almost sure signs of gnolls. You can't be sure of the distance to the source of the sounds due to the fog, but you figure it can't be less than 60 or more feet away.
Carric moves forward slowly looking for a target.
Revjak knows not this place, nor the witchery involved.
But he does know that he has strong steel and wood in his hands, and steadfast friends by his side.
He advances, ready to give any foe a taste of Azuredge.