The sudden knowledge of potential ambush and the sheer amount of them immediately freezes Themp's movements.
"You mean they could could be anywhere?!" hisses Themp.
Nme'an shrugs. "If they can see us then we can see them."
“Guys, it might be a good idea to have some of those fire flasks handy. Might prove effective if we have company,” Beorae whispers. “And let's keep moving. We're sure to be caught if we keep standing here.”
Somewhat gratified that his suspicions concerning suspicious things were at least partially based in fact, Mot eyes the wall-holes with distrust. For a short while he tries to force his spear into each and every hole the party comes across. But it doesn't take long for the big man to get bored and and return to composing a majestic and powerful ballad in his head.
The druidess looks down the chasm and wonders how long passage to the other side will take.
As a denser cloud casts a quick shadow over the pass, Themp catches himself gazing upwards, at the wall.
Huh. I could probably climb this thing. I wonder if Mr. Paladin would approve of me going so far from them, but I'm sure I could convince him of some advantages other than staying the hell away from these ambush holes...
As the thought strikes him, he notices a small ledge on the wall, about 80ft ahead.
How quaint, he thinks, as a slow grin takes over his face. He carefully moves ahead, eager to reach the foot of it.
The travel speed has lurched from a steady horse-trot to carefully picking every step, so progress will be significantly slower than what the druidess may have grown accustomed to this far in her journey. At this slowed pace, it may take two or two and a half days before they see the other side, depending on what challenges the kobolds might present.
The forward scout hears little more than his soft footfalls as he nears the bend. From this angle, he can see that a boulder sits directly in the middle of the path ahead, and it looks like another larger one resting further back, closer to the ravine wall.
Reassured, Themp motions his companions forward while slowly moving ahead. One eye fixed on the ledge he hopes to climb, he keeps the other, as well as his ears, open for any dangers below.
Moving just far enough to look down the barren, cliff-faced corridor, Themp sees the narrow ravine littered with two boulders, along with smaller chunks of rock gathered in the corners. The path about seventy feet ahead appears to open slightly to the left. Across from the ledge that caught his attention, Themp notices an indentation in the rock.
Not wanting to be caught unawares by anything hiding in the corner of the small enclave, the shifty fellow sneaks forward, giving the tiny cave a wide berth. Though he finds nothing immediately threatening, his scrutinous gaze notices something else: not only does the inner wall of the indentation lack any knee-high holes, Themp also sees a hairline crack in the stone that seems a little out of place. The thin fracture appears to form a small, jagged waist-high arch starting and ending at the foot of the cliff.
The crack runs against the grain in the stone in several places, and it is very unlikely to be naturally occurring.
Now that he is a little further along, the rogue sees that no gravel scattered over the stone where the cliff meets the solid rock path, just beyond the first boulder. Studying this second oddity, the thief finds an edge in the stone floor, and he follows it with his eyes until he deduces the rim of a large, well-disguised cover over the ground, quite similar to the grave pit-trap encountered yesterday.
As Themp begins his cautious and measured approach the big Urlghain sniffs at the air appreciatively. His mood had been getting steadily more chipper as the group began it's ascent into the mountains. High altitude always did wonders for the highlander, seeing as it reminded him of home.
Scratching idly at a great hairy leg, Mot begins to trace along the stone floor with a booted foot. Drawing out a crude stick man in the scree and dirt, the warrior who would be an artist gives the figure a massive sword and an equally massive smily face. The Casns man begins to draw several slain kobolds, but tires of the task practically before it's begun.
Testing the heft of his most recently acquired weapon, Mot adopts a mockery of a fencers stance. Feet spread akimbo and arm outstretched with lance held firmly in gargantuan grip. He gives a few jabs and slashes before laughing and swinging the lengthy weapon to and fro, like some child's club. One false spin and he whacks a boulder in the ravine, sending a ringing jolt up through his arms.
Seeking out something else to occupy his time, he pulls out his pipes and begins to make ready to play a rousing marching song...
Nme'an sees Mot prepare his pipes and steps forward to intervene.
"Even you are not foolish enough to draw such attention to us..." he whispers harshly. "...and if you are, I will soon stop you." Nme'an promises after a moment's reflection on Mot's past actions.
Focused on the potential trap ahead, Themp barely hears the shuffle and clangs of Mot's hijinks, but Nme'an's voice snaps his attention back at the group.
The immediate scene freezes all of the rascal's movements. Mot, bagpipes (of all things!) at ready, chest full of air, while Beorae idles in astonishment and Nme'an scowls at him, hand on hilt.
The hell is the big guy thinking?!
“Mot, put the pipes away!” Beorae whispers to the highlander with some urgency. Looking back up toward Themp, the druidess shrugs as if to say, "I have no idea," before gesturing to the rogue to ask if the path is clear.
The Casns warrior returns an unflinching gaze to the paladin, daring the half-elf to make good on his threat as the great highland bellows begin to inflate. The mouthpiece already to his lips, Mot’s defiance is preempted by the druidess. He grimaces in displeasure as the cradled bagpipes lower into the crook of his arm. But the frown turns to a mischievous smile at Nme’an before he steps toward the forward scout, taking Beorae’s gestures to mean that they should keep moving.
Flustered by the highlander's prodigious lack of caution, Beorae and Shark follow the big man into the chasm.
Nme'an too follows, after a brief disappointed shake of his head.
Themp gestures back for them to move slowly up to him, where he intends to hold them up for a chat. There's no way I'm gesturing all these traps reliably...
Slowly, Themp moves towards the rock shelf, one eye and one ear open for any immediate danger, the others at the group moving up.
Themp’s traveling companions quietly reach the bend in the pass. The thief senses no cause for alarm, save for the concealed hazard ahead. The others see two fallen boulders in the path ahead, and just around the corner, a small indentation in the rock, almost too small to be considered a cave. Gravel and small chunks of rock continue to litter the parts of the natural corridor, which eases to the left after about fifty feet from where they stand, reducing their visibility.
There are two peculiarities about this tiny cave: not only does the inner wall of the indentation lack any knee-high holes, but there is also a hairline crack in the stone that seems a little out of place. The thin fracture appears to form a small, jagged waist-high arch starting and ending at the foot of the cliff.
Nme'an, last in the group, keeps most of his attention focused on where they have been, not where they are going.
Stowing his pipes unplayed feels like a great sin to the highland warrior, nevertheless Mot does so as he tiptoes up behind their sneaky companion. Great blue eyes sweep back and forth, partly out of boredom and partly out of a genuine curiousness regarding their surroundings.
“Themp, you see this wall?"
"Tha's soome oof tha oogliest ahrt Ah've evar seen" The highlanders face scrunches in disgust. "Noo compoosition oor reasoon ta et! Jes oone long squiggaldy line." He spits to emphasize the point.
Nme'an does not see any danger creeping up behind the four of them. The alleged cave art does indeed lack imagination and expression. The hardy, stunted bushes that grow sporadically in the rocks wait patiently for the sun to pass overhead before it inclines toward the evening horizon. But alas, midday is still hours away.
"Right, ugly art...", Themp repeats, distracted by the barbarian right as he was about to announce the trap. He tries again. "Erm, anyway, I see a possible trap right beyond that first boulder. There's a false covering there, see?", he points.
"I was thinking maybe I could climb the wall using that shelf over there, be on the lookout from above. If you lend me your rope, Red, maybe I could even hoist you guys up too. What do you say?"
Surprised that no one else has suggested it, Beorae asks, “What if the crack in the wall is a doorway? If we opened it, maybe we could pass through there, out of the elements and out of view… assuming it's not too small for us to pass through. I suspect this pass is littered with traps, but I doubt the kobolds have trapped their own passageways.”
Reviewing the situation for a moment, the druidess speaks up again, “I suppose we could just go around the traps here as well,” she says, indicating a path to the right of the traps . “Does that look safe, Themp?”
"It appears so, yes. I'd rather not open any doorways, though. I, for one, would surely rig one to alert me of its opening."
Gazing at the crack, Themp shrugs and turns his attention down the pass.
"I agree with you about the traps, though. So far, I'm having much luck figuring out these blatant ones, but further up we might encounter some of more ingenious nature. I'd still very much like to climb this wall. Or at least have one of you do. Maybe we could even figure out a way to hoist us all up."
"If you wish to climb the wall to get a better view then by all means do so. You are, for the moment, the expert here," Nme'an says upon hearing Themp's plan.
Mot looks at the cliff face cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders. "Ah'll doo et." Having long ago secured his spear to his armor with ties, he checks to make sure it is still secure before handing the newly acquired lance to Beora. "Ef yo'll keep ae firm grip ohn mah chargen speer." Without further discussion he grips the rock face and begins his ascent.
The Casns warrior has difficulty finding proper footholds for his massive boots, but once he reaches a natural corner on the cliff face, he scales ten feet up the rough rock wall.
,
,
The highlander clambers up the rock face with relative ease, reaching the forty foot high shelf within one minute. Shuffling along the narrow ledge, he finds more handholds along another natural corner, and with powerful arms and legs, pulls himself to the top of the cliff with no need of rope or climbing gear.
Looking out over the land ahead, the narrow, cliff-walled pass winds between rocky bluffs in a serpentine path for perhaps two miles. Beyond that, the rift between cliffs appears to broaden, but it is difficult to see that far from where the wild man catches his breath.
Presently, something else demands his attention. A kobold stands at opening of a small hole in the mountain, mouth agape at the giant of a man who seemed to appear from nowhere. The lizardfolk appears to be caught unawares, though its hand begins to stray toward the crude spear leaning against a nearby stone.
The surprise livens Mot’s blood before the kobold can act.
The big, hairy man surveys their northern path as he catches his breath, but suddenly turns his back to the cliff’s edge, focused on something else beyond the sight of the three. Judging from his agitated stance, something that he perceives as a threat.
The kobold’s cry is muffled by the burly highland arms that close around him. He begins to squirm and and whip his tail to attempt escape.
But the small, red-scaled creature is unable to free himself.
The Casns quickly steps away from the cliff's edge, beyond the sight of the three below.
Nme'an watches as Mot climbs the cliff then disappears.
"Now what do we do?" he asks after a moment.
With stunned awe, Themp watches as the highlander (highlander indeed) climbs the rock wall as if it were horizontal. The knight's question pulls him out of his reverie.
"Hmm... Dunno. I was expecting him to yell something at us from up there, to be honest."
The kobold slumps over in Mot’s hold, unconscious. The brief scuffle does not appear to attract any more attention from the small hole in the ground.
Beorae watches the highlander scrabble up the rock face with a raised eyebrow, remembering too late that he's wearing a kilt. Looking back up and down the chasm instead, she says, “I guess we just keep an eye out…"
Taking the rope from his pack Mot lashes the creature to his chest like some small, scaly child. Turning to look at the cave entrance he pauses for a moment.
Mot sees that the hole angles deeper into the ground, rather than a drop straight down. One of his size could possibly squeeze inside, crawling on their hands and knees, but the highlander finds little cause to do so. As far as he can see, the walls of the hole are hewn through dirt and stone, and the dry air stinks of lizard. The tunnel burrows deeper into the mountain than he can see, but his hunter’s ears do not detect any further activity from the hole in the ground. He notices leavings of a meal consumed by the creature on his chest, a few tiny chunks of chewed gristle and a couple calyxes of bitter-smelling vegetables. The kobold may have been here for some time, if it was snacking while waiting here.
The earth atop of the cliff grows more of the scrubby underbrush, which sprout small round leaves or prickly needles from short wood stalks. A few other bushes and stunted trees from the lowlands of the Vale are making a valiant effort growing on the mountainside, but their stature suggests that they do not thrive in this rocky terrain.
"We should follow. Make sure he is all right... Nme'an suggest. "Themp? Lead the way?"
The highlander’s head angles when he hears the paladin’s voice echo up the rock face. In a few steps he leans over the edge of the cliff, beaming his snaggle-toothed grin. The three below can see a new, red addition to Mot’s simple clothing as it dangles and swings loosely over one shoulder. Without warning he turns kilt-first to begin a descent.
As he draws nearer, however, it becomes clear to anyone willing to look up that he carries a kobold over his shoulder. It swings limply as the big man stops to keep the red-scaled body from sliding off. He shuffles across the shelf and begins the last half of the climb down, almost losing the kobold body once on the way down, but after a minute he lets himself drop the last few feet.
“Ah fownd wunna ther graet warriors,” he beams, still heaving from the climb. He pulls the kobold body from his shoulder, holding it up with one hand. The large span of his free hand stretches over the red ridged snout, using a meaty thumb and middle finger to pull the edges of the kobold’s mouth into a smile. “He’s soh happy tah see us!” he chuckles, “Ah gaev ‘im a bear hug tha’ put ‘im tah sleep.”
His wide smile diminishes when he appears to remember something about Nme’an. “I’ll put yoo tah sleep too eff ya try tah moorder this lettle pipsqueak,” he adds in a more serious tone.
"If you do not understand why I..." Nme'an begins to say, but then he realizes who he is explaining himself to. "Can we just move forward? Please?" he asks the others.
Thoroughly amused at the paladin's discomfort, Themp winks at him.
"Sure thing. Let's just debrief our advanced scout, shall we?"
Turning to Mot, the scoundrel can't help but crack a huge smile at the sight of the limp kobold.
"So, Momma Goose, the heck did you get to see up there? Is our way clear? Does it actually lead somewhere?"
Beorae, still holding the lance, realizes that her jaw is slightly agape and snaps it shut as the highlander finishes his descent. She hands the chargin' spear to Mot and says, “I assume this was a scout of some kind? It doesn't seem like you raised an alarm, which is good. Are we to… question… him?,” she asks, uncertain if she wants to know the answer.
“Nme'an is right, though, we should keep moving. Mind leading the way, Themp?”
With a slump of his shoulders, Themp let's out a theatrical sigh.
"*sigh* What an anxious bunch, huh? Signal me if he says anything I should be aware of up front, ok?"
He sets off down the path, hugging the wall on his right. As he passes the false covering, Themp crawls next to it, studying it and its potentially lethal trap more thoroughly.
Beorae and Shark drop in behind the rogue, taking care to follow Themp's path exactly.
“Och, teh path zignzags back an’ farth fer a weys, then opens up a bit,” the highlander lazily waves a meaty palm forward, indicating the general direction of the ravine.
He shrugs the shoulder carrying the kobold in response to Beorae’s question. “Ah dinnae think he’ll bea wakin up anytime soon. Hehe… Ah’ll ask em when he do.”
Themp searches for a part of the false covering that he could lift to look underneath, but he does not find any that won’t trigger the collapse of the covering. If this trap is anything like the first pit trap they found, the floor is probably lined with spikes.
The druidess notices that the small, knee-high holes continue through the rock face ahead. The piles of stone broken off from the mountains over time appear be gathering naturally, not indicating any concealed hazards laid by the kobolds. High above, Beorae can also see a likely spot the boulder ahead fell from, which could have been caused by decades of erosion. The air is silent, save for the occasional careless scraping of boots on rock, or clinking metal armor, and the sporadic, scrappy shrubs that grow out from the rock are motionless for the lack of wind. While she does not see it right away, in fact she almost missed them, but a slight variation in the natural falling and gathering of stone catches her eye just ahead. Half a horseshoe print here and there, where the thin dust laid undisturbed for many weeks.