Elsina is oblivious to Sheth's observation of her knitting.
Just as Sayarisha wonders where the young human boy with an affinity for dragon-kin might be, a minor movement catches Sheth's eye
A shadow of a juvenile about the boys height and build can be seen walking between the wagons. He appears to be heading towards bed, but there is a certain air to him that implies that he is trying to not be seen.
With a yawn, Elsina snips the remaining threads away from the small bear doll and bundles up her materials. She excuses herself quietly from the group. "It is time for me to find bed I think. Morning comes early for these farmer types, and they will expect me up to take commissions and mendings I am sure. It was nice to meet you both. G'night."
She wanders into the darkness beyond the firelight to find her wagon and bed.
As each person leaves to bed down for the night, she will wish them "May the Great Dreamer bless your night's sleep!"
Before going to her own bed, she will visit Dornhold's and Son's sleeping places and whisper a Desnan prayer. From there, Sayarisha briefly visits her donkey Shooshy before finally cuddling in her blanket with her familiar Selket.
Despite her best efforts, Sayarisha is unable to locate a trace of the young boy before heading to her bed, so instead of praying directly over his bed she says the prayer while lying down herself.
***
A quiet bustle around the wagons begins just as the first rays of sunlight begin to peek above the lightening horizon. A rooster crows in the distance as you each find your feet.
A small horse drawn cart can be found at the northern end of the clearing where the caravan is convened. It has been outfitted with meager trail rations and water barrels. A small money pouch is sitting in the front, pinning down a folded piece of parchment.
"I apologize that I am not available to see you off this morning. Sadly there are many duties that demand my attention. Nonetheless, thank you for your willingness to seek out whatever this omen below Storval. Brave souls like yourselves make being a member of and leading this community so much better.
If you need anything before your departure, please seek out Blur Ashwood. With so many strangers in town he will no doubt be near the caravan keeping an eye. He serves as my partner in leading this community, although somewhat begrudgingly at times. Given his...opinions...If you do need something from him I would recommend the charming woman with dark hair or her armed man servant approach him and do the speaking for the group.
Thank you again, and may Erastil watch your ways.
-Your Servant, Ivonette Mortana"
The money pouch contains various copper and silver pieces as well as a sparing few gold, it comes to 10 gp in combined value, more than enough to pay Dornhold for 2 weeks.
Unbeugsam replinishes his food and then walks to the smithy, to work on his armor and weapons.
Thinking for a moment he adds a crowbar to his equipment and
Taanimohka has no further interest in the town or its inhabitants - she stays with the caravan waiting to continue the journey to the rift.
As Sheth wanders off to the treeline to find a place to sleep, he finds himself thinking of the Desnan's words, and what she said about the boy. It hadn't escaped his notice that the boy had been the only one not to offer his name - even in Draconic. While an unlikely explanation, perhaps it was true that he didn't have one...
Awaking in the morning, lying within a pile of stacked rocks, he decides to shelve last night's thoughts. There was no point dwelling on it until he could ask the boy himself. As his 'tent' uncoils and assumes its regular, serpentine shape beside him, his mind drifts to something else from last night, and he comes to a decision. Heading back into town, he seeks out the seamstress from last night - Was Eline her name?
The boy silently approaches the caravan at the dawning light. He climbs into the wagon of one of the team and sits. The young warrior seems anxious in meeting the new adventure head on.
Sayarisha will awaken with prayers to both Desna and Sarenrae, send her familiar off to find its own breakfast, take care of her own daily preparations and then join with others in the caravan to have breakfast. Once she is ready, she recalls her familiar and goes to the location of the cart.
On the way she gathers Dornhold and her donkey Shooshy. Once there, she examine the supplies, reads the note and sets about making final preparations for the journey. After ensuring that all the necessary resources are present and ready for the trip she pays Dornhold and directs him to remain there and guard the cart, horse, donkey and cache until her return.
Sayarisha will then attempt to determine the location of the remaining members of the troupe, bring those she can immediately find back to where Dornhold is and leaving messages for the others to join the team at the cart.
If she can find him before the others are ready to go, she will talk to Son of Atrau. "Hello again, young man. I was looking for you last night but I could not find you. If you would, could you please tell me your name?" she asks in Draconic
In addition she would also send for a Cleric of Desna* to come and bless the group before they leave.
You are able to locate Elsina's cart without trouble. Her efforts seem focused on being a travelling linenworks. She offers mending and custom commission work including premade items for sale such as curtains, sheets, blankets, and the yarn dolls you saw her knitting last night.
Most of her menagerie is made up of natural animals; the bear you saw last night has joined a male and female lion, a leopard, an owl, and several others. She does have a smaller selection of magical beasts as well, although in the daylight it is apparent that their construction is slightly more crude, owing to the fact that they are based on word of mouth description rather than personal experience. Best amoungst them is the unicorn from last night; it is after all just a horse with a horn. Joining it is a frightening lion-like beast with a scorpion tail and bat wings. There is also what is immediately identifiable as a green dragon, even though the snout is too long, the tail too short, and the grey yarn coming from the nostrils to indicate smoke is nonsensical since greens do not breathe fire.
A wooden sign sits before the collection of 4" figures, indicating that they can be purchased for 4 silver each, or 3 for 1 gold. It appears she has marked her prices down from what she told you last night in hopes of making some sales in Ravenmoor.
After inquiring amoungst the villagers you find that Ravenmoor is a small enough community that it does not have a clergyperson of its own. There is a small shrine to Erastil near the village entrance, and apparently a travelling priest of the same comes by in the spring and fall to administer blessings on the lands and livestock; but he is not due again until closer to planting season next year.
There is a priest of Cailean that has been travelling with the caravan, a half-elven man named Brominde. From your time on the road you know him to mostly be interested in blessing his own ale mugs. When you ask after him this morning you find that he has yet to rise, apparently having managed the feat of drinking everyone under the table last night, including himself.
You are able to locate most of the team with ease, finding the young boy first waiting at the carts, along with the elven Monk. With a little more work you track down the Dwarven warrior in the smithy of Van Hoffer, who is at the moment attempting to locate his hammers. "I left them right here last night, I know I did."
The only member of the party that you are not able to immediately locate is the Elven male you saw last night.
If she can find him before the others are ready to go, she will talk to Son of Atrau. "Hello again, young man. I was looking for you last night but I could not find you. If you would, could you please tell me your name?" she asks in Draconic
The boy shifts his seat on the wooden buckboard. He shrugs. His dirty face looks to the ground. "I never earned one." He says simply. It was obviously a point of shame for the youngling.
He moves closer and whispers to her. "I no longer have a tribe or trial. The stars have no name written in them for me." He pulls back with a look of resignation and then with fierceness. To those with eyes to see his heart, he took the burden on with pride and defiance to the fates themselves. "You can call me Son of Atrau"
In the morning, Zordlon heads around the town, looking to see where an extra set of hands can help with the rebuilding efforts. Even though he plans to head out soon, time spent with the cart will be easy enough that heavy lifting now will not be too much of a burden.
Thiugh she is, if truth be told, somewhat impatient to leave, Taanimohka hides her frustration under the guise of serene calm and inner peace she knows her folk are vaunted to possess by rustic types. She listens to the boy's poetic turns of phrase and wonders just what hidden qualities he and these others might possess.
As you rise and begin your reconnaissance of the village you can see a few of the others are already gathering at the cart, but not all of them are there yet. Some say if you aren't first your last, others claim you are only late if you are the last there; somewhere in the middle is a happy compromise that allows you to look for immediate good to do this morning.
On your walk you come across a group of villagers that are in the process of raising a barn near an ash-heap that you would venture to guess is the site of the structure this new one is meant to replace. When you ask you discover that Darylin O'Shanasy was in the barn with an oil lamp on the night of the first quake. He made it out okay, but the barn itself went up like a tindertwig when he dropped the lamp. This morning the villagers are in the process of lifting the last wall frame to be nailed into place. You grab a rope to assist.
Pulling in time with the chants you and a group of 5 others are able to hoist the wall with ease. You rush forward to brace it with your shoulder as a younger boy of about 13 shimmies up the posts on the ends to hammer in nails. With a cheer and much back clapping the men begin to gather lumber to nail into place to turn the frame into a proper wall.
As you turn to grab a hammer and nails to help you see the dark-haired woman from last night, Sayarisha, making her way through the crowd, apparently looking for you.
The boy shifts his seat on the wooden buckboard. He shrugs. His dirty face looks to the ground. "I never earned one." He says simply. It was obviously a point of shame for the youngling.
"Most people I have known were gifted a their name upon their birth. Some of them were expected to earn the name of their manhood or womanhood later on. I take it that Atrau was the name of your father?"
He moves closer and whispers to her. "I no longer have a tribe or trial. The stars have no name written in them for me." He pulls back with a look of resignation and then with fierceness. To those with eyes to see his heart, he took the burden on with pride and defiance to the fates themselves. "You can call me Son of Atrau"
Sayarisha takes the boy into her arms, hugging him affectionately and resting his head on her beast. "I feel that we are much the same in how much we have lost. But in some ways you are wrong. Your tribe is now who you choose and chooses you. Your trial could be the adventure we face before us. While the stars may not have a name for you, I can give you one when you feel that you've earned it. You are strong and capable, Son of Atrau, and I look forward to seeing what you've learned and maybe teaching you a thing or two." With a warm smile she squeezes him once more before letting him go.
The sun is setting as you finally arrive at the point marked on the map you received from Mistress Mortana about 2 weeks ago. Ahead of you rise the cliffs of Storval Stairs. The fording of the Lampblack passed without incident and now you stand at the beginning of your true journey.
Before you, just as Travaran had said, a dark rift has been torn into the rock wall of the cliff face. The sun casts strange shadows into the maw as the wind seems to rush from behind you, driving into the opening. You almost imagine the voice of the wizened elf carried upon that wind.
Through the crack in Storval, down below the deep.
Though disturbed and scattered by the winds here, you see signs of others around the cavern. The trace is old and difficult to read, but there is no doubt that large numbers of varied humanoids have come to investigate the rift since it was formed.
It is difficult to say with the condition of the trace if the footprints are entering or exiting or both.
The place the stone doth lie, a hidden hand looks to take,
The path was clear, but often that meant that something else had cleared it. Zordlon glances around checking for any signs of scavengers or the verminous races.
"We should be careful. Often goblins and orcs will pile deep into the holes in the earth. I've heard that the Shoanti oft have to deal with orcish raids."
Bow out just in case, he heads forward, to see if the wagons will fit into the rift.
Sayarisha nods,"I suspect we will be in near constant danger from here forward."
She turns to her hireling, "Dornhold, keep your eyes open and one hand on your weapon."
You find you that while you are able to get the wagon into the mouth of the cavern, the path winds down out of sight and the wagon is too long to navigate the turn. You are however able to unhitch the beast of burden and bring him with you.
As you climb down into the darkness, rocks and debris skitter down around you.
Numerous tracks seem to descend into this pit, other humanoids have been here already.
You see the tracks of various humanoids; kobolds and orcs, trogolodytes and lizardfolk. You even see the massive feet of what is likely an ogre or two. The tracks appear to be 2 – 3 weeks old, and are all headed in the same direction, so it is hard to get a sense of how many creatures
have followed this path before you.
You continue your way down, until the climb levels off, you would guesstimate that you are now about one to two hundred feet below the level of Curchain hills. The cave widens until you lose the height of it and its sides to the darkness.
Here in the center of the open space, you see a skeleton the size of a galleon lying on the ground. As you get closer, there is no movement to indicate any sort of animation. Despite his obviously decomposed state, the man does not exude the odor of decay.
This “man” is obviously a giant of some sort, but he is by far larger than any giant you have ever heard of, easily reaching a height of 50 or 60’ standing up. There is no flesh left on him, so he has definitely been dead for more than just a month. Years if not decades.
The footprints that you were following give a wide berth around the body and then into a low cave that winds down further into the earth at the northern end of this chamber. Near the opening you also see a ramshackle pile of coarse papers, larger than your body. From this distance you are able to see there is some sort of text written on them, but you would need to get closer to make any of it out.
Looking at the gargantuan skeleton and sighs.
"That would have been a worthy opponent! For about a moment till his foot had smashed us to pulp!"
Taanimohka too gives the skeleton a wide berth, smiling wryly at Unbeugsam's estimation of the dead creature's probable prowess. The elf moves toward the overlarge papers and inspects them, again, from a distance. She whispers a sibilant chant and, mystically augmemted attempts to read the words on the paper.
You have never encountered these characters or language before, although aspects of it look similar to various other languages that you have seen in passing but have not studied yourself. You gather this is some kind of proto language, dating back centuries if not millennia or longer.
Strangely, despite the influence of your arcane abilities, the exact words of the text slide across your mind without finding purchase. It is almost as if the words themselves are too large to fit inside your mind. You are able to ascertain a general understanding of what is captured on these gargantuan pages, but the language itself eludes you, even with arcane assistance. The huge pages seem to be completely filled with scribbles in some kind of journal format.
Taanimohka speaks aloud each word from the pages.
"I would imagine this [here indicates the gargantuan skeleton] is either Breysus or Barcellus - as we have no idea where we are in relation to the pages. Two giants, set to guard a temple/prison, for a long age. Evidently, Breysus fell sick, leaving the entrance unguarded. If these are written about Breysus, I imagine this could be Barcellus, who guarded the exit."
The elf muses further.
"This is all we know - and who knows how far the bearer travelled before he died."
"This sounds like the words of a lunatic. Maybe prophetic, maybe just rubbish. But alas, we won´t find answers standing here. It is time to move further!"
Taanimohka smiles again at the no-nonsense nature of dwarves. She nods and follows Unbeugsam.
"If this was one guard of this place, let us hope that the other is in a similar condition. However if this is a prison, it might be harder to get out than it is to get in. This could also explain why we have seen so many tracks leading in, but none leading out." Sayarisha observed "But since the danger is here, it is here that we must go."
As Taanimohka examines the parchment, Sheth crouches down low close to some of the tracks, measuring several of them against his own feet.
"Sheth recognizes some of these. These grouped here are Kobold. A dozen or so. There also Orc and Lizardfolk. Bigger ones too, like Ogre. Hard to say how many, but big group headed down."
He follows the tracks around the skeletal remains of the sentry and over to the opening in the wall. "Down further"
With the Son of Atrau close behind he leads the group deeper into the cavern.
After traversing another 100 or so feet down, you exit the dark and yes, dank, narrow passage way to emerge onto a worked stone floor. Looking about, you see that you have entered a large square chamber, about 70’ on a side with a ceiling about 20' up. The room is hewn completely from stone. The worked stone is a curious transition from the rough hewn earthen tunnels of before, giving the room a more developed, certain, feel.
You notice two iron doors, one to your side () and the other in front of you (). Otherwise, there are no other features of interest in the room.
Taanimohka frowns as Sheth details the numbers and types of humanoids entering the fissure.
"Sayarisha, you make a good point - and it does seem as if beings are travelling in, rather than out."
The elf stares at the worked stone, amazed by the sheer volume of work and stone. Her attention returns to the doors, each in turn.
"Anyone have a preference?"
"This might just me being selfish, but my preference is for whichever door isn't going to kill us. If a giant of that size is the door guard, our Lady Above must be doing good business, especially as none of the filth seems to be leaving."
With that said, Zordlon moves forward to check both for traps, and to inspect the opening mechanisms. (Do they pull out, push in, any obvious locks?)
Having inspected both doors you find that they are of identical construction and machination. No hinges are visible, but you see no handle either, just a seam where the door meets the framework around it. There does not appear to be any way to pull the door open, or a mechanism to lock the door. You also see no evidence of traps. The featureless doors are devoid of markings, symbols, or even any sign of use.
While inspecting the northern door, you unintentionally brush against it slightly. Taking a few quick steps back on the defensive, you watch as the door silently and gently glides ajar a few inches, the iron disappearing into a blackness that lies just beyond. Having no way to catch it, the door continues to glide completely open and you watch as more and more of it is swallowed up in the barrier of black until only its hinges are visible. Peering cautiously into the darkness for signs of movement, you see nothing. Even your ears can only detect the breathing of those that have come down into this cavern with you. The dark space reveals nothing of what lies beyond.
Unbeugsam takes a deep sniff and smiles.
"Well any entrance is as good as the other. Let us try it!"
**Zurne**
You have been travelling for a week and a few day's north out of Ravensmoor. They told you that the others that had responded to the call for help were about two days ahead of you, and you feel like you have made up most of that time. Now you are more confident, as you see an abandoned cart sitting idly in front of a dark rift in the cliff side before you.
Travelling down into the cave you find yourself first in an open cavern with the enormous skeletal remains of some humanoid creature. The tracks of the group you have been following are muddled here along with others, goblins, kobolds, ogres. It seems many intelligent humanoids have come to investigate this cave. And all trails lead into an opening heading mostly north and further into the earth.
**All**
As you study the dark opening before you and steel yourself to enter, you hear the scattering of stones coming down the ramp from whence you came. Drawing weapons and standing at the ready, you form a semicircle around the opening, with those prepared for melee standing slightly forward.
A dark man with sallow skin and violet eyes emerges from the cavernous passage; his own weapon sheathed, but a hand resting on it ready to draw should the need arise.
Zurne clears his throat. The natural tan of his Varisian skin is muted as if he doesn't spend enough time in sunlight. "Ah, hail and well met to you all," he says quietly. "My name is Zurne, of Magnimar, and you must be the others that passed through Ravensmoor. I would join you, if you'll have me."
Taanimohka eyes him with neutral consideration.
"We few know each other barely [here indicates Unbeugsam, Zorflon and Sayarisha] so you're as welcome as we are. I am Taanimohka Essirien, martial battletrained and disciple of the mysterious Harrow. What are your capabilities Zurne? Are you by any chance a scholar of this wound in the earth? A warrior? A scout?"
"I may not look it, but I'm a servant of the Green Faith," says Zurne, still keeping his voice quiet. "Useful for this and that. The deep places of the earth speak to me." He smiles. "An elf using the Harrow deck of my people while I go into passages dug by dwarves..." he gives a small motion toward Unbeugsam--"It has a pleasing symmetry. Oh, and there's another behind me--he should be along presently."
No sooner had Zurne spoke then a pale handsome man wearing clanking horn lamellar emerged from the entrance tunnel and promptly stumbled and fell forward landing with a clatter on the ground. "A thousand pardons, the light makes it hard for me to see for a brief time. I am Byung-He a seer and divine herbalist. I have come with my companion Zurne to this place as visions have plagued my sleep. We both know a great deal of herbalism and healing arts."
Slowly and weakly Byung-He rose to his feet struggling in the armor he seemed to have donned though it was clearly not what he was accustomed to wearing.
Taani smiles companionably at the newcomer's discomfiture.
"The Harrow provides - welcome also Byung-He! This is Unbeugsam, Zordlon and Madame Sayarisha. And here we were without the grace of healing arts - now we are doubly blest. I ken you both might have skills we need, and can probably fight too. Good, Unbeugsam?" the elf asks the dwarf.
"Byung-He exaggerates my knowledge of herbalism and healing greatly," says the unlikely druid, "But yes, we can fight."
He gestures at the yawning darkness before the dwarf. "I can cast a light spell on a pebble and toss it inside."
Byung-He looks around as he comes to his feet brushing himself off. "I am glad to see we have strong warriors and skillful delvers into mysteries. This place reminds me a lot of my old home in both look and feel. I wonder what fungi and herbs one might discover down here."
He frowned at Zurne's suggestion of light but began to move to join the others adjusting his armor uncomfortably trying to find the right spot where it balanced best of his frame. "I will stay close to help any in need but who leads the way?" He seemed perfectly content to follow another.
He gestures at the yawning darkness before the dwarf. "I can cast a light spell on a pebble and toss it inside."
Looking about Zurne easily finds some loose stonework in the floor. With a silent mental nudge, he draws the inherent light within the stone to the surface. It shines like a torch within his hand.
A gentle underhand lobs the rock through the doorway and the barrier of blackness. The moment the stone is subsumed by the barrier the light it emits is gone. Zurne, you can still feel the magic power of the spell, it is active but almost like it is out of sight behind a stone wall. No light comes back through the doorway to your eyes.
Adding her own warm greetings to Zune and Byung-He, the young Varisian woman approaches the Varisian priest of the Green Faith and whispers soft words in their shared language before regarding him with a warm smile and resuming her place among the others.
After seeing the magically glowing pebble simply disappear into the darkness past the opened door, Sayarisha looks dubiously into the depths and says to the others, "While this is clearly one way into something, I'm not sure this is the best way to go. Unless you Unbeugsam, or either of you Taanimokha and Zordlon, can see clearly past that gloom I think we might be best served by looking at the other door."
When Byung-He asks who should he follow, she replies Until now, we've let those who see best in the darkness and have stronger fighting abilities stand forth. If you have a better idea then I'm sure we can be convinced."
"I have no different suggestions though I believe that darkness must be magical. Checking the other door seems wise until we know more about the darkness."
Byung-He looked toward the door to the east and unslung a large crossbow that once again looked comically ill suited in this healer's hands. If any gave him a odd look he'd sheepishly say, "I am not good with weapons but at least it will allow me to help without exhausting my magic."
"I can check the other door mistress, must do something to earn my pay afterall."
Heading over to the door to the east, Dornhold looks for any kind of mechanism and failing to find one simply pushes against the door. Having pressed harder than Zordlon,the display is shorter but much the same. The iron face of the door is slowly consumed by the same sheet of darkness that sits beyond the northern doorframe.
"Thas right unsettlin' that is."
Pulling an unlit torch from his pack, Dornhold strikes a flame and once it gutters to life presses the torch head through the blackness. As the light crosses the barrier it again ceases to throw any illumination back into the room.
"Right unsettlin'."
Dornhold's brow lowers in concentration for a moment. He shifts his grip on the torch and digs in his feet, as if participating in a tug of war.
"You won't believe this mistress. I can't get the torch back out. Side to side, up and down, no problem. But now that it's in it's stuck there."
He moves the torch around in the opening to illustrate his point, and then once again braces his feet, placing one against the wall immediately next to the door. There is no sign of the torch coming back out, he might as well be attempting to lift a building.
"What should I do now? I don't think this torch is coming back."
Sayarisha
You have heard of powerful magics that can shield or ward an area, preventing objects from passing through. You have not heard of a spell that could allow something to go one way but not the other or block even light, but magic is a strange and powerful thing, who know what limits it has. If you were to venture a guess this is perhaps an enchantment similar to one of those.
Taanimohka stands erect, hands outstretched as if on high alert.
"I...do not like this magic. Sayarisha, Zurne, Byung-he - do you know what we face? Will it swallow us too?" the elf asks, her evident consternation causing her accent to lilt with an elven edge.
”It would seem that it’s a trap designed to hold interlopers. No doubt the owners or creators have a mechanism for exiting.”
Zurne shrugs. ”Does anyone have a way of detecting magic or vital energy past the barrier?”
Zurne explains further. ”It could tell us where others have gone. Or we could just try the other door.” He does just that, touching the eastern door.
"I do not believe any magic I possess can penetrate this. Fear of the unknown is a strong thing however I have faith that we have all been guided here for a reason. I possess magic that can sustain a person for a day per casting and we all seem fairly well equipped. I wish to see what lies beyond the shadows."
Byung-He will wait for them all to make up their own minds but he will be set on going into one of the two shadow gates with whoever agrees to go.