Grick hisses in frustration when we sees the hole in the ogre's skull...oh by the dragon's egg what a shame, should still work well enough. He quickly removes the skin and the nasty squishy stuff inside the skull.
As the others loot the remains of the tavern, Grick sits on the floor swaying back in forth in time to his tapping on his drum. His eyes are focused on a different plane of reality as he seeks out the spirit of Felix the Ogre...
Tap, tap, tap...sway, sway, sway...soft murmuring Felix, Felix, Felix... This goes on for what seems like a long time to the others but only a moment for Grick.
Suddenly you all hear a shout of triumphant "GOT HIM!" as Grick's eyes focus on the tavern. "Got him" Grick repeats obviously quite pleased with himself. He stretches and climbs slowly to his feet and then approaches Hegh. "Here, take this," Grick says as he holds out the skull. "You can call on the ogre's strength now, just say his name three times. I'm not sure how long this defective skull will hold his spirit so don't hesitate to use it while he's still trapped."
Hegh takes the skull from Grick, reveling in the feeling of Felix's blood covering both of the kobolds. He looks down in the ash below him.
Grick, my friend. It seems you have missed something here beneath Felix.
Nevermind, it must have been a trick of the light.
After a time, Hegh approaches Sees and hands her the vial, clearly embarrassed. I do not understand these symbols. Take it. He retreats quickly, searching the ash for a helmet of some kind.
As the new day begins, Hegh once again calls upon the blood of Gorlaug that flows through his veins.
In response to his call, a rage fills his heart. He must lash out, but as he looks around at the kobolds he now calls friends, he digs deep, and seeks to overcome his rage.
Inspecting the gold ring for any markings, Smoog sees a few letters written along the outside edge.
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Hmmmm... wasn't there a story about this in the ...
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Sees' eyes light up at the sight of the perfume bottle. She recognizes the fine tooling of the cap as Gnomish work. "This was the last gift of Mellisand the Black before she set off to make an attempt on Gorlaug's life. It is said she traded it to Felix for a room and guide up the mountain. I'm not sure if that one died, but I'm pretty sure she lost a great deal in the fight. If I recall, the adjustments can turn the scent from sickly sweet to fowl and fetid." As she accepts the vial, she makes sure their claws touch and eyes meet. looking over the various options, Sees opts for one that aught to be comforting to the group, and thus turns the gear to swampy gas and tips a drop out onto a red-hot rock some feet away from the main group.
This is the second sweet favor from Hegh... At least he knows who deserves his gallant offerings if not Gorlaug.
Suddenly reminded, she peers over Hegh's shoulder "I'm sorry, Grick, I must have lost your cane in the fight. I hope you are able to recover it. Last I saw it was tethered to Felix's arm."
If the vial is indeed perfume, she resolves to dab a spot of fresh flowers at the curve of her jaw when she has a private moment. A lady does not freshen up in full view of the public.
Hegh, your heart burns with fury as you call upon the form of the dragon once more. Seeing the still-woozy Shieldbearer next to you, along with the Dragontongued cleaning her tribemates' clothing with ashes, forces you to turn the hatred inward. You keep your outer appearance stoic to preserve the illusion that your heart isn't burning with cold. Still, you have great power at your command now...
You put thoughts of vengeance aside temporarily in search of a helmet. Your search among the rubble is largely fruitless, until your lackey approaches you cautiously, bearing a sauce pot. It's been damaged during the storm, ripping the handle off and leaving a dome of tough iron. Surprisingly, it fits your head rather well - once you punch holes for your horns to poke through in the back.
Smoog, you remember tales of a golden ring bearing these markings. In the legends, a heroic kobold warrior bore a ring in exile as punishment for his dalliance with the chieftain's daughter. The ring attracted all manner of demons to the wearer like wolves to a bleeding Grippli, but as the hero prevailed over them, he became unstoppable in combat.
Oh man, is this thing cursed?
'Cause this seems like something that would be cursed.
I don't wanna wear anything cursed.
I think I will just put this away for a while.
'Embrace me now' my ass.
Smoog considers bringing this up at the next clan council meeting because 'Demon Magnet' might not be the best thing right now.
When the cooking and mending is done, Sees pulls a long, worn scroll case from her pack. "It never seemed like anything more than fanciful stories when they came, but I remember every one of the adventurers that came to Gorlaug's inner sanctum. Most of them had been boastful younglings, but some had come far afield, bringing stories and maps with them. This is the nicest one I found, it should show us what there is to the south for Krondor to retreat to."
Undoing the clasps that held the dowel to the old gilt case, Sees-Death pulled out the map. It was clearly made by a skilled craftsman some decades ago, and the aged velum glided smoothly from the reed case one a spring and caster system. Once quite valuable, the case's ornamentation and gilt had all been removed or scraped off, and the map itself was somewhat outdated. Still, it was a fair bit better than scanning the horizon, and held more information than the small clan of xenophobes might have put together.
The map has a crudely-drawn circle around Moontower Mountain with excited notes about rumors circulating around The Dragon's Hoard there. To the south of the mountain, beyond the encircling marshes and the miles of wasteland, is a Great Plains region. The words Aqir Wildlands are written across the vast plains in widely-spaced out letters, implying a vast area under the rule of whomever these "Aqir" are. There is a mountain range running through the center of the great plains, making the Wildlands resemble the greek letter Theta. There's a star on the north face of the mountains inside the Wildlands marked Erdogan. There are also three other cities marked on the map - two above the mountain range and one below. The one closest to the midway point between Moontower Mountain and Erdogan is marked Estr. Then, further west, almost due south of Bastion, is Evinruud. The city south of the mountain range, due south of Felix's Flophouse (marked by a tiny marking on the map) is known as Sky-Temple.
"If I had to guess, the hairy mole-rat is headed for Erdogan. It sounds and looks like a Dwarven settlement. If he left from Bastion, he might stop off at Evinruud. If he split off from the party at the mountain, he'll be stopping in Estr. From Erdogan, the bloated pig--no offense, Pork--might intend to loot the Sky temple." Sees scours the map, trying to descifer years of worn notes in languages she has no training in; trying to affirm what amounted to hunches with the more solid sensation of intuition.
What should we be on the lookout for... what dangers await in the wastes?
Who is in control here... with the void of Gorlaug's power, what political movements might be made.
What is about to happen here... what objectives and paths are likely for a Barbarian and Necromancer, bent on asserting order?
"Well Dwarves love mountains and there is a mountain south of here, Erdogan? Erdogan, why does that name seem familiar?"
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"Um... It's a mountain.... where Dwarves might live... Probably nice in the summer when the Doomclover trees are in bloom..."
Question 1: As the Wastes of Gorlaug give way to the Wildlands, pay heed to the Shamed Drakes. These misbegotten dragonspawn, cast off from their true dragon parents, infest the Wildlands. Unlike their true dragon ancestors that may take a half-century of time between breedings, the Shamedrakes breed like giant, scaly rabbits. Kobolds have inherited their masters' scorn for the Shamedrakes, and Shamedrakes attack kobolds - whom they name Dragon-slaves - out of retribution, whenever they can. In addition, wild Dwarven barbarian tribes roam the plainlands on giant insectoid mounts known as the Aqir. These sentient bugs have agreed to a race-alliance with the dwarf barbarians out of a shared sense of lust for blood. They originate from the mountains under Erdogan.
Question 2: Bastion's influence is going to explode without Gorlaug keeping it in check. The fortress-town was a hub of wealth in the glory days, wealth that would often have to be paid to Gorlaug's kobolds to placate the dragon's wrath. The tribute that your tribe gathered from Bastion kept the most potentially powerful city in the area in check. This was all according to Gorlaug's designs - he intended to keep the cities on the borders of his domain weak, broke, and fighting with each other.
Without needing to ship off vast sums of gold, the Lord of Bastion is going to find himself flush with extra cash. Much of this cash will likely be going to fund the reward of that damnable Dragonborn and his adventurers. That's how the army will be raised to continue his murderous anti-dragon crusade - or so you gathered from the loudmouthed dwarves in the bar.
You glance over at where the dwarves had been drinking raucously only a day before. Nothing remains of anything except an ash smear on the floor.
Similarly, to answer question 3 : You can't speak to the necromancer's motives. From what little you saw of him during the raid on Moontower Mountain, the man seems apolitical - primarily interested in leveraging his adventuring career into discovering new and interesting corpses. The corpses of your family seemed to bore him.
However, your foreknowledge of the dwarf barbarian lord Krondor - combined with what the drunk dwarves in the bar were commenting on - says that Krondor is in it for the personal glory. If you had to guess, he's like to be celebrating Gorlaug's death and making up new songs about his exploits for months to come before the thirst for adventure strikes him again.
I dunno, have you?
Shortly after his simple companion left him Thunk continued his more or less aimless wandering all over, never sticking to a particular path, he would fall down and sleep and when he woke he would toss his club up and whatever direction it pointed that is the direction he walked. Eventually he wound up in the Aqir wild lands. Not that he knew that is what they were, there he fought dozens of the bug creatures, in many ways it was the best time of his life. The bugs make a particularly satisfying sound when he squishes them. A squelch of sorts. There are several small settlements of the bugs that really have it out for Thunk.
Wonderful. I'll quite enjoy having the hivemind discover that the hated Red Kobold is back in their hunting grounds.
Sees' brow furrows as she studies the map. "None of these other places could raise a finger to Bastion now that it has control of its own funds. On our way back through we must remember to destroy or cripple their infrastructure. Otherwise they are likely to enslave these lands, cutting trees and milling stone to make their roads and farms." She traces a claw around the wildlands. "For now, we must prepare ourselves for Drakes, Dwarves, and Aqir as we head for Erdogan. Hopefully we can catch Krondor in one of the smaller outposts. It would take a wisdom greater than mine to choose which. Grick, Pork, Fssst, which of you wishes to flip a coin?"
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Pork looks back at the desolation brought forth by the destruction of the mountain, and gazes upon the land that was formerly is home.
My Swamp..it's gone. It is really gone..
He could hardly believe it. His home he had wandered in for many years, acting as it's guardian. Understanding it in ways no other Kobold could..gone. Dead. These foolish adventurers had somehow managed to do something he never thought possible. They had killed his home.
It's..gone. I can no longer feel it's pulse..it is..dead. Dead...dead...They have brought death to my swamp...
He gripped his spear tightly...They brought death to his swamp. His home...His purpose of being was gone. All that was left was...vengeance? No. Vengeance was not enough. A new hunger stirred within him. It was a Hunger fed by the death of his land. It was a gnawing in his soul now...a desire to bring death to not only thoe who had killed his land, but bring death to ALL lands. Yes..the Swamplands was no stranger to death. The touch of Rot and Decay was common throughout his now destroyed home. Before, he avoided places where death lingered. It was..unnatural in his eyes. But now...his land was gone. His home was dead...was he to do nothing? Was death really the end?
No. He would not allow it. He would not accept it. Death would not be the end for his home..his land. Something so intimately connected to him would not simply be left to die. No..
Death! I will bring Death to all lands, all peoples! This will by vengence to those who have done this to me! Death will feed my hunger! I will gnaw upon the bones of all those who have done this to me!
He cried out in rage none around him could understand. How could they? They had lost family, friends, clan, and Master. He had lost...everything. The grounds he had walked on since his youth were gone. Blood dripped from his clawed hands, so tightly did he grip them in his screaming rage. To any other race, the anguish cries of a tiny Kobold must sound pathetic indeed. But, something out there heard him. Something dark. Something Hungry. And something who knew death as intimately as a lover. It had heard his cry of rage and anger, and answered...
Pork looks back at the desolation brought forth by the destruction of the mountain, and gazes upon the land that was formerly is home.
My Swamp..it's gone. It is really gone..
He could hardly believe it. His home he had wandered in for many years, acting as it's guardian. Understanding it in ways no other Kobold could..gone. Dead. These foolish adventurers had somehow managed to do something he never thought possible. They had killed his home.
It's..gone. I can no longer feel it's pulse..it is..dead. Dead...dead...They have brought death to my swamp...
He gripped his spear tightly...They brought death to his swamp. His home...His purpose of being was gone.
Thunk approaches Pork.
Something is breaking inside this one. A new darkness is growing, ready to spew out everywhere. He will be more reckless now, he will need more protection from himself.
Thunk think you think all lost? Thunk think you think kill all. Thunk think you think kill self when try kill all. Thunk think Thunk thump more for Pig now.
The dirge's eyes grow wide. "I- I don't really mean it, Pork. Humor is just a defense mechanism. I'm sorry if I made you mad... I just meant... if any of you have access to some other insights."
Sees stood from her place near the map, shouldering her pack. "We're all going through a lot, and we will all go through the five divine stages of decay- as the elders taught us: denial, anger, bargaining, grief and acceptance. Of them, anger is the most potent, the most purifying. It will keep us alert and on our feet where the others will abandon us to our fate. Harness it. You are the embodiment of our mire, and thus the embodiment of decay. If there is only one thing to be said of decay, is that no matter what means are taken to cut it away, cauterize it, or delay its onset, all decay ever does is spread-" She looks like she had more to say, but watching the seething rage contort Pork's face, she stops.
"Really, Pork, are you going to be okay?" She moves to take the druid's shoulder.
He continues to stare out at the ruin of his dead home as he responds to Sees..
What do you know of this loss, speaker? You sing of great Heroes, of mighty Dragons. You sing songs and spin tales, so that they will be remembered by all who hear you speak for as long as such things are remembered.
He snorts in dersion as he turns to look at her
What songs will you sing of my home? What tales will you spin of the creeping moss, working it's way up the trunk of a mighty tree? Will you sing songs lamenting the death of the Great Tree, who had had lived in the swamp longer then any can remember? Will you spin tales of the triumphant moss who finally covered the old tree, finally able to bask in the sun?
He grunts angrily, his body trembling as he continues
No, no one cares for such things. For the little things, even us, counted as small and insignificant by the so called "Mighty" races.. He spits on the ground when he mentions "mighty races" ..even we cannot see what lies beneath our feet. I understood. I felt the heartbeat of the land, I felt the shudder of it's breath. I understood the meaning of every animal that chose to dwell in that Swamp. Accept it? Accept this devestation that has been wrought on my home? My land? My very Essence? I think Not..no..never that...
He continues to stand there, trembling in his anger...
Thunk approaches Pork.
Something is breaking inside this one. A new darkness is growing, ready to spew out everywhere. He will be more reckless now, he will need more protection from himself.
Thunk think you think all lost? Thunk think you think kill all. Thunk think you think kill self when try kill all. Thunk think Thunk thump more for Pig now.
Seeing Pork wrapped up with Sees, Thunk hands him his club.
Perhaps an outlet for the simmering rage
You feel better if you thump?
Fssst speaks, "Our price is that none of us shall be as we were, Dirge. The druid will not accept the death of his land, and the fire of his anger will not purify him. It will twist him, like metal left too long in the forge-heat. I know what lies beneath my feet, Druid. Failure. Death. Change... Power." He looks at Pork with something akin to respect. "Do not lament this, and do not fear for him. It is those who brought him to this that should know fear of what he is becoming, wracked by his torment that he is."
Fssst limps to the edge of the murk, made muddy gray as it mixes with the ashfall. The whole world looks like a fresh snowfall, without the crisp, freshness of white. Everything is the color of a graveyard tombstone. "We should seek Krondor in the farthest outposts. After several nights of celebration and excess, his senses and skills might be sufficiently dull that we have a chance to take him."
The fire tender speaks wisely. Both about Pork, and his rage and pain, as well as the best way forward. We start with the muscle, that will make it easier for us to remove the magic users, and then when all of them have been destroyed we can claim our final revenge on the blood traitor. That dwarf broke my face, I will greatly enjoy returning the favor. Dwarves. Pffft. Disgusting creatures, obsessed with their drink and their treasure, never stopping to realize that they are truly the dregs of the world. I would be content to start with this Krondor and end by splattering every last one of them. I will enjoy watching the terror in his eyes as my club comes down on his nose again and again. Ah. That image keeps me going.
Thump!.
Flung is moved by the druid’s speech, of his ability to express his despair so eloquently. “Don’t accept it… No don’t do that” Flung replies to the Druid.
“Take that anger and hatred and hone it; shape it; work it until it is a burning hot tool of vengeance. You can be an instrument of Gorlaug’s and the swamp’s revenge! I, for one, will stand by your side and together we shall sow the seeds of destruction upon our foes who have brought us to this low place." Flung continues with emotion building.
"But I swear upon the ashes of Gorlaug, that I will do all in my power to avenge what the usurpers took from us!” he finishes vehemently and kneels in front of Pork with his spear held out in front in the time-honored tradition of pledging allegiance.
Smoog was looking over Sees' shoulder at the map when she left to manipulate, I mean comfort, Pork.
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He continues to inspect the map while listening to Pork vent his anger, fear and frustration over the death of his land.
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In time, Pork will come to see that we all lost as much as he.
Our homes were comprised of different material, stone vs. swamp, but nevertheless both homes are gone.
We all had things equally as dear to us as Great Trees and such.... but what is this? These rivers?... Here on the map...
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"Pork, your loss and grief are personal to you and only you can weigh its toll on you.
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But look here, at these places on this map Sees has.
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Notice these rivers? I thought they were only Moontower Mountain feeds into your swamps but look, they spread south into the Aqir Wildlands a bit.
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Water means life and some life may have escaped the swamp and devastation along these rivers.
Maybe we can use them also, to speed south as far as they will carry us.'
The artificer speaks truth, Pork. You do indeed know of certain waterways that fed away from the mountain into the wilderness plains beyond.
Flung, Sees, glad you guys have more bonds to advance and resolve. The more the better.
Thunk, totally willing to make it the dwarf that knocked the smart out of you.
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Smoog looks in earnest for anything Dwarven still in tact.
He needs a small amount of matter that still holds a dwarven signature, kind of like Grick's spirits but more biological or temporal.
He has been formulating and calculating a new device and needs the "fingerprint" of a dwarf.
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"Did anyone see a dwarf carcass anywhere around here?
Pork continues to stare for a long moment at the wastes of his homeland. He remains silent for a long while, before laying a hand on Flung's shoulder
Let's go. We have suffered enough...it is time we share our suffering with the world
He turns to listen to Smoog as he looks over the map, slowly nodding his head,
Yes, the river is as good a guide as any. Where they bring forth life, we shall bring death. I can lead us there.
He looks around at the torched building and desolation around him and grunts
We should make ready then. I doubt there is anything left for us here.
He turns to Thunk
Yes, There will be many who need to be killed in the future we will bring. I am sure you are the Kobold to do it. But...can you also keep some alive? Smash them so that they are hurt, but not dead? For some, death will not be an easy release, nor should it be. For some...well. I believe we should make them suffer before they die. Can you do this?
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Sees is taken aback, and fades quietly to the back of the group. Loss, suffering... Their wounds are fresh, and mine have long healed over. What is loosing things and homes and loved ones compared to losing one's sense of the world's purpose? The knowledge that these things lost were never of any value. I've had time to heal- to fill voids... Sees shifts her pack so the weight of it is braced on her stubby tail. These boys have been thrust from their nest and they ask why it must go. I thought they were harder, more stoic. I had no idea they were so sincere, so earnest about their need for revenge.
The dirge tugs the uncarved horn, Gorlaug's Wrath, from her pack and begins the slow task of shaping the keratin in her claws. The relief she bore into Golraug's Woe was a record of wrongs done, and done by an inexperienced hand. This horn would be different. If this is so, it will be that much harder- that much sweeter to divorce them of such a delusion. The world will know its own emptiness before it is finally devoured.
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We should make ready then. I doubt there is anything left for us here.
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The tiny band of kobolds lift packs to backs and fall in line behind Pork.Most are reflecting on Pork's words.
Some are mentally reciting their own.
But all are intent on seeing this mission through.
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Then the group leaves the Oasis behind.
A once boisterous and busy place that is now silent.
The first of many graveyards Gorlaug's Avengers will walk away from.
The worlds of man and of elf and of dwarf would tremble if they knew what was on the way.
Pork looks behind him and grunts.
Somone else can scout this time. I have alot on my mind.
He continues along, acting as the trailblazer for his Kobold kin
The herald of twilight ploughs ahead, no longer comfortable playing pattycake with Pork.
Hegh spends the beginning of the journey painting strange designs on his helmet with his own blood. Satisfied, he puts it on, and spends a few minutes in conversation with his deity.
Grick: Nice roll. You capture Felix's spirit within his skull successfully. When you or anyone else releases the half-ogre spirit released within, their strength and size will temporarily match that of Felix's in life. This will have the effect of increasing the kobold's damage die by one step, and allowing you to roll for damage twice and choose the better of the two. Quite a powerful effect, if temporary.
Smoog, your search for salvageable dwarven tech leads you across the blasted oasis, to the burned-out shells that mostly didn't survive the storm of Gorlaug's Wrath. Of what remains you can mostly find blackened skeletons resembling Luke Skywalker's adoptive parents after the stormtroopers were done with them. There's no shortage of bones here, but they're all jumbled together and would require careful forensic study to identify. Searching's tied to Wis, let's see another Wis roll to see if you're successful at finding something interesting. If you roll a 10+ you can tell me what you find within reason. If you roll a 7-9 I will tell you what you found, and it won't be that much. If you roll a 6-, well... nothing except an XP and an advancement of an enemy Front.
Before I resolve the Perilous Journey rolls (which still need someone to step up as Quartermaster, by the way) - let's make sure everyone asks and answers the End of Session questions. I want to start fresh in the next area.
Once bonds have been updated look at your alignment. If you fulfilled that alignment at least once this session, mark XP. Then answer these three questions as a group:
Did we learn something new and important about the world?
Did we overcome a notable monster or enemy?
Did we loot a memorable treasure?
For each “yes” answer everyone marks XP.
When you have downtime (hours or days) and XP equal to (or greater than) your current level+7, you can reflect on your experiences and hone your skills.
Subtract your current level+7 from your XP.
Increase your level by 1.
Choose a new advanced move from your class.
If you are the wizard, you also get to add a new spell to your spellbook.
Choose one of your stats and increase it by 1 (this may change your modifier). Changing your Constitution increases your maximum and current HP. Ability scores can’t go higher than 18.
I know some of you took care of this already at camp, just making sure everyone's on the same page.
Previously Smoog had been scavenging for the remains of a Dwarf; bones, body, clothes, anything that would still 'smell' of dwarf.
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Well, it seems he will not have any active matter to key his device to yet but the blueprint in his head is coalescing into viability.
Hegh, the pot looks much bloodier and more distinct once you're done with it. Take 1 damage that ignores armor from injuring yourself to make yourself bleed on your armor. The helm is mainly for narrative purposes, but may save your skull if something aims directly for it in the fiction.
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Thunk think more food good.
While others are doing their thing Thunk goes looking for something that he might be able to eat.
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As our heroes travel Thunk is first to tell them what they should and should not be eating. Sadly his incredible verbal skills flummox everyone.
Quarter Master
Smoog adds the small cask of ale he lifted from Felix's wine cellar to Thunk's larder.
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"Hopefully this will keep us going until we can find more food..."
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While Sees drives ahead, she tests the power of the new horn. The resonance is not quite right yet, and the horn only makes a heavy hasp, but the detailed carvings are doing their job.
Gorlaug's Wrath lets out a cacophonous thump at each sounding, and the ash and tall grasses are compressed to the ground, giving Pork level ground to set his pace on.
"No, not quite..."
Fssst organizes our supplies to make certain they stretch far enough to make our destination.
Thunk, you manage to find a few sacks of produce that survived the storm by being wedged underneath what remains of the bar. Add 1 Ration to your inventory.
Finished rolls:
Trailblazer (time to destination) Pork aided by Sees-Death: 10+
Scout (detecting danger before danger detects you) Sees-Death aided by Fsst
Quartermaster (Thunk aided by Smoog): 10+ with kobold aid bonus
The experience at Felix's oasis seems to have cemented the bonds of fellowship among the kobolds. As they travel and fight together, a mutual respect develops among them that allows them to nearly-unconsciously understand what each other kobold in the group needs. The unity that a kobold tribe is capable of experiencing cannot be understood by the more self-sufficient races that can get by just fine on their own. The world is a hostile place to scalykind. Kobolds know this, and instinctively bond together on a genetic level. Even Thunk settles in with his new group effectively, overseeing their rations with wisdom born of a lifetime of traveling. Smoog helps soothe everyone's empty bellies and poor spirits with the wine he liberated from Felix's cellar.
With Pork's expert knowledge of the land, you make excellent time. The journey across the Wastes to the riverlands inside the Aqir territory would normally have cost you 3 days' worth of rations; the druid, moving in single-minded haste, gets you there in 2 uneventful days of traveling. With Thunk handling the rations, you each only need to remove 1 ration from your inventory. The kobolds navigate Gorlaug's Wastes with ease.
This doesn't detract from how grim the journey has become. Ash from the corpse of Moontower Mountain has covered the land for miles around, belching the materials of deep within the earth all across the planet's surface. The air overhead is gray and overcast, not with clouds of moisture, but with clouds of smoke and carbon. You encounter few animals; those that you do encounter, a few birds and insects, are struggling to survive in the wake of the eruption.
Sees-Death uses the time as scout for the expedition to organize her thoughts. Near the end of the second day, at around 4 PM, when the sun is setting but not near the horizon yet, she and Fsst notice something up ahead.
The river. And there are two groups on the riverside shore, fighting each other. You can hear screams and clashes of steel on the other side of the hill you're climbing, kobolds. You both hunker down on all fours and cautiously crest the rise to look down at the battle taking place about 50 yards from your position.
A group of 10 adventurers, eight humans with what appears to be a token elf and a token dwarf, are battling a large group of waterlogged zombies and skeletons. As the battle progresses, more corpses are emerging from the rushing waters of the river, covered in mud and with their clothes mostly eroded away by the current.
As you watch, the elf - a woman wearing full plate - raises some kind of necklace high in her fist, and a flash of light drives a group of the zombies back. The humans rally to her and raise their weapons in a battlecry, but some of them are injured. The undead outnumber them and more continue to advance out of the water. They appear to be coming from a small island in the river that has a stone temple of some kind built into it.
Neither faction of the battle below has noticed you. What do you do?