Fiona takes up a position near the pit, but not close enough to fall in if something were to push her, and assumes a guarding stance. Her eyes scan the clearing regularly, watching for any threat.
Sahar looks miserably up at Fiona from the depths of the pit. "Do you and the rest want to get the animals moving and get back to the road? Leave our mounts, and we can clean up here and catch up."
Fiona jams her weapon into the ground, its sauroter easily finding purchase enough for it to stand up. Still scanning the clearing and surrounding woods, she reaches up with one hand and scratches her ear thoughtfully. After a few seconds, she shakes her head. "No point, and more danger that way. If a full hand-and-one of orcs couldn't beat those others, and they decide to come back..." she trails off, but her meaning is clear: a split party wouldn't stand a chance.
"Just hurry, please," she urges after a moment.
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Xia tries to watch her companions as a half dozen ideas appear to be tossed about. As she does, she tries to think of a way to remove the wedge from the acorn just as she used to remove poisoned needles from fey traps.
Not able to think of anything, she turns to considering the woods and the nature of the plants.
Sap. Or some fluid. Make glue. Use to stick to metal to pull from nut?
With that, she begins searching the area around the area hoping to find something that can be crafted into a glue or other sticky substance that could be used to wiggle or move the wedge if the acorn hole were slightly widened.
Knowledge(Nature):
She looks to Sandy - Any idea? Make glue from sap. Sticky syrup?
Sahar suggests using a lever to tip the acorn back into the hole - and it takes a few minutes to do it without the thing rolling back and touching anyone - but you manage to get it into the hole -- and quickly throw a bit of additional dirt around it for good measure. You all wait a moment, wondering if there'll be any sign that it has reconnected to the forest... and find that it's starting to feel anticlimactic just as Xiaruau is able to tell you that the acorn is back to looking how it did before Merlan's excavation.
Feeling more secure about touching it, though making the halfling go first, since it was his bright idea -- you spend some time examining it. Now that it's no longer biting him, Merlan actually touches the sides of the crack, reporting that despite Sandy's observation of rot, it still feels rather firm on the outside - a little less so within, but that might help what you're trying to do.
Merlan and Sahar each carefully slide a dagger into the wound, just above and below the wedge, and slowly begin to apply pressure while Sandy reaches in with pliers. He closes them on the wedge and begins to pull -- pulling out the pliers themselves - the metal, well, wedged in its place.
He reaches in again, managing to get a grip, and the wizard and warpriest each start applying more pressure as the druid pulls.... You hear the sound of wood straining, but Lysander feels the wedge moving... slowly, painfully... and then all at once, like extracting a rotten tooth from an abscess - so suddenly that Sandy loses the pliers grip on it, throwing the wedge about 10 feet behind him. And, like an abscess, the wedge doesn't come out cleanly, bringing about a gallon of putrid, rotten acorn flesh with it as it does. The straight part of the fissure is slightly wider now -- and the pressure caused the crack to fork above and below where the wedge had been -- each new branch extending about two inches on each side.
When you find where the wedge landed, you see that it looks like a simple tool made to split wood -- just over three inches high and five inches long. In the back, it was probably originally about as wide as Sandy's thumb, but you can see where it was struck with a heavy hammer, causing the edge to mushroom slightly. Still, the thing reminds you of the head of a hatchet - tapering down to a chisel-like edge in the front. Strangely, the thing seems to be made of silver, though the first inch of it is stained - maybe from some sort of alchemical treatment.
Sahar leaps back from the acorn pus spray and ends up on her butt on the side of the hole. She retches slightly, but fights down the nausea.
Looking at the goop all over her hand with disgust, she picks up a handful of dirt and starts scrubbing it off. Her dagger gaze shifts to Merlan. "This. Is your. Fault."
"Woo hoo! WHoops! Eugh! Merlan cries aloud as the offending piece of metal comes loose, then comes flying out, and he is sprayed by rotten goop, in that order.
Merlan examines his stained clothes, and makes a face that a toddler might make if it was promised sweet fruit, and then fed Castor Oil instead.
"Yep. That was the culprit alright. That is some nasty stuff. If I wasn't so hungry, it might have been downright unpleasant." The halfling says cheerfully.
Merlan gets back up and examines the patient,
"Thats all right baby. You'll get all better now." Merlan whispers to the acorn. (And doubtlessly leading to more upcoming 'nut' comments.)
Sahar leaps back from the acorn pus spray and ends up on her butt on the side of the hole. She retches slightly, but fights down the nausea.
Looking at the goop all over her hand with disgust, she picks up a handful of dirt and starts scrubbing it off. Her dagger gaze shifts to Merlan. "This. Is your. Fault."
Merlan looks back, all wide-eyed innocence.
"Well,... THAT seems a trifle harsh. I mean I get your point. But I didn't DAMAGE the poor thing. I only tried to HELP it. It's sort of what I do." Meraln explains, even as he's talking he casts a simple charm spell and with a couple of waves of his hands has cleaned the goop off of Sahar before he finishes his statement. He smiles, and does the same for Lysander before turning to his own stained clothing.
Merlan putters around the acorn a little more as the others climb out. Even going so far as to take one of the 'chewy' gourds of healing 'potions' and dabbing it around the edge of the crack. He finishes by placing a scrap of cloth over the crack to protect it, and 'gluing' it down with dabs of melted candle wax from a small candle from his pouch.
"That's all we can do, I think. At least for now. I'll come back later with a gallon of fertilizer and poison antidote. Until then, rest well, and heal up strong!" Merlam gives the acorn a loving pat, and scrambles out of the hole before Sahar decides to make good on her previous threat to bury him in it.
Sahar nods her thanks and scrambles out of the pit. "We could fertilize it with orc corpses," she suggests. "That will make this hole much quicker to fill."
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Xia continues to look at the nut and has a thought.
Hmmm. Nut sort of food. Have spell make food safe eat. Might help.
With that, Xia silently moves her hands and a soft glow surrounds the acorn.
Casting Purify Food and Drink.
This spell makes spoiled, rotten, diseased, poisonous, or otherwise contaminated food and water pure and suitable for eating and drinking. This spell does not prevent subsequent natural decay or spoilage. Unholy water and similar food and drink of significance is spoiled by purify food and drink, but the spell has no effect on creatures of any type nor upon magic potions. Water weighs about 8 pounds per gallon. One cubic foot of water contains roughly 8 gallons and weighs about 60 pounds.
Xiaruau casts her spell, and the putrid goop that came out suddenly stops smelling bad... and, looking in, you think you see some improvement of the flesh of the nut within the cracked shell... as a glop of moss and lichen falls from the canopy above, letting in a single ray of sunlight.
Merlan then applies a fabric patch over the crack, using wax to hold it in place before you start taking turns with the shovel to bury the acorn again.
As the putrid gloop sprays out all over him, Sandy staggers back and leans against the ground and lets lose the contents of his stomach. The rich feast of the previous day, makes it's appearance. He takes a massive swig of water and pours it all over his face.
Lysander agrees; "Yes, we cleanse the wound to clear out the putrid nature and rebury it. But the orc corpses, surely they would ruin it - like they do most things?" He says with a sardonic glint to his eyes.
He makes sure to wash the wound after Xia purifies the area, then helps with reburying it. From the nearby tree, his hawk friend watches.
Lysander accidentally gets a mouthful of the foul stuff, and turns and begins vomiting.
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With the acorn looking a little better, Xia turns to the wedge.
It radiate bad magic. Black, like death. Not strong, and seems get less.
She turns to the diminutive wizard and his stained cloak.
Maybe you know more? What it is black magic do to acorn?
Xia then takes a handful of slightly dry cheese and nuts from her pocket to munch on. Leftovers from the prior day she had put in her pocket.
We must go to Russ-koll. Maybe follow three, see where go. Not make much later than are now.
Merlan follows Xia's gaze to the blade,
"Bad magic? Black? Like Dea,..? OOOOH! you mean Necromancy!"
Merlan shuffles over to the fallen wedge and examines it himself,
"Now, WHO in their right mind would go to all of the trouble to research, locate, and dig up a large and possibly powerful useful artifact,... and then try to Kill it?!? Really. Young people these days,..."
"We can follow the tracks if you wish, I'm curious what 3, or 4, humanoids could defeat almost twice as many Orc Warriors with only one loss. Although not so curious that I want to get on their BAD side. Yet. Whichever way we ride, we can eat on the way!"
Merlan uses his Prestidigitation charm to clean up the rest of the goop sprayed fellows, (And a little extra cleaning for poor Lysander)
Depending upon what he discovers about the wedge/Blade, if it is actually enchanted, (Or otherwise valuable material) he will take it with him. THAT kind of thing is far too valuable to leave lying around for just anyone to pick up. :)
"We can follow the tracks if you wish, I'm curious what 3, or 4, humanoids could defeat almost twice as many Orc Warriors with only one loss. Although not so curious that I want to get on their BAD side. Yet. Whichever way we ride, we can eat on the way!"
"Why, they were orcs, Lysander and I believe from examining their tracks," Sahar replies, looking to Lysander for confirmation. "Did you not hear us say it? Oh, you were doubtless absorbed in examining your giant nut at the time. We know they are orcs, their tracks lead away from the road to Rustknoll, and their group of three orcs and a half-orc took out a war party of seven orcs. I think following them now is not the path of wisdom."
"Their dead priest bore the symbol of Szuriel, the Horseman of War. He was the half-orc we found roasting. They intended a pyre, but the rot of this place dampened the fire, so he smoked instead of burning. I know not why they ignored the gear of the fallen. One of them went from body to body and knelt by each one while the others built the pyre. Perhaps the gear would have weighed them down?"
"We have all the spoils packed and the animals have rested. I think we should make for Rustknoll immediately. Your idea of eating on horseback is good; we should try to make up as much time as possible."
The unraveling magic feels like it wasn't a single spell, but more the result of a complex ritual -- one that likely involved some blood or sacrifice magic to gain the amount of power needed to affect the item -- even after the physical damage weakened it.
The ritual itself is unknown to you, but it seems almost like a strange pastiche of spells that are familiar: Death Knell, Malediction and Major Curse with juuust a hint of Siphon Magic.
The silver wedge has been corrupted - probably by the dark ritual - it's certainly not normal silver anymore. It's edge looks like it was treated with adamantine weapon blanch -- more than once -- probably reflecting that first cracking the nut was a big challenge - even for something as physically powerful as an orc.
Fiona moves to the wedge and picks it up, wrapping it in a bit of fabric she cut from one of the orcs' cloaks. "May as well take this," she says. "Now — is everyone ready to go, or do we want to forget our mission altogether and dig some more holes in the forest floor?" She smiles cheerfully at that last suggestion, almost as if she's serious...
Merlan blinks as his mystic vision clears from ending his Detection spell, surprised by Fiona picking up the strange wedge from in front of him.
"I,.. oh, yes, that's fine. Keep that safe! That has some VERY interesting effects upon it. Definitely worthy of further study. AND potentially useful. I would think." Merlan informs Fiona cheerfully.
The little wizard dashes to his own riding dog with surprising speed for a shorter race, and hops up into his saddle. Squeaky descends from the tree overhead and lands on Merlan's hat. Only pushing it enough to cover one eye as the Pterosaur settles into place.
Merlan chuckles as he stores his staff-sling, and urges Tiny into motion with a "Yip-Yip!"
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”Let’s go!” Lani says, bouncing in her saddle with excitement.
The rest of the journey is uneventful - almost boring. Even the terrain itself seems unexciting -- mostly low grass and scrub, with the occasional small, thin tree -- most of which look to have been broken... Though what were originally hills far in the distance are at least starting to get a little bit closer.
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As the party rests to stretch their backs, legs and get some water, you think that one of those scraggly, thin trees actually moved closer toward you -- as if to get a better look.
By early afternoon, you start noticing a few rocky outcroppings poking up out of the scrubs and grassland - and these grow more numerous, along with more scraggly trees and some small bushes over the next few hours -- even the ground starts to feel a little less flat beneath the hooves (and paws) of your mounts.
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Maybe it was the weird tree, or paranoia - but you can't shake the feeling you're being watched or followed - even though you've seen nothing on your backtrail, the only bird in the sky is a hawk circling a mile away - probably about to dive on the cousin of one of the prairie dogs you saw popping up.... wait... is that one watching you?
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As the sun starts to hang lower in the sky, Lysander confirms that you're heading the right way, but that there's still a fair amount of distance to cover. You set off again, with Sahar and Fiona setting a more rapid pace than before.
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As you ride hard, the sun starts to hang lower in the western sky, forcing you to shield your eyes and squint as you ride forward. When the mounts start to complain, you take a moment to give them a short rest and rinse the trail dust out of your mouths -- and to stretch muscles that most of you aren't used to using in that way.
As you squint against the sun, you see two near-perfect squares of tilled soil on one of the foothills in the distance.. probably for planting crops. You keep looking as you close the distance, and start seeing details -- first a large silo, and then a small house and barn.. and a small silo, closer to the house... and then the fence - no, palisade - that surround the house, barn, and small silo...
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You're definitely into hills, now -- almost like waves of earth and grass -- each time you climb one you get a good view of the area -- more hills, more rocks -- some of which seem to have gotten together to form some scraggly mountains barely worth the name -- and a few more little farms (including an orchard that's far less impressive than what you saw this morning) -- and then you drop down and see only the scrub and grass around you. You're tired, you're sore, and you think the mounts are ready to stage a rebellion.
You think you're pretty much where the map told you to be...
You must be close - you're sure you just caught the scent of smoke from a woodfire.
Fiona's watchful gaze scans the group's surroundings as they travel. During one of the group's early water breaks, the tall woman peers closely at a scraggly tree nearby, as if daring it to move. A moment later she shakes her head and takes another swig of water. She makes no comment until the group is moving again, but she does seem eager to be off.
Throughout the day, she rides up to the core of the group periodically to check on everyone, before once again backing to her rearguard position to keep watch. On one such "visit", she speaks in a low voice to Xiaruau, Merlan, and Lysander (Sahar being out of earshot as vanguard). "I don't wish to cause alarm," she begins softly, "but I believe we're being watched. Possibly even paced. Look sharp, but don't let them know you know. If you spot them, tell me right away."
So saying, she heads back to her rearguard position, keeping vigilant watch.
At another water break, Fiona moves up beside Sahar, and passes along her suspicion to the vanguard in a quiet voice.
"I have noticed nothing. We could trade places, but you may have a better vantage from the rear if something is pacing us. You know what to watch for. I shall continue to take point and be the bait. Give a whistle if you spot something hostile."
It's far cleaner in front, too, the scout thinks, observing the dust on the tall warrior.
Merlan is patting his poor pooch, who looks more like he might just 'rebel' by lying down rather than biting anyone. When he looks up he seem sconfused.
Merlan starts ot open his mouth to talk, stops. Opens it again,... stops.
Opens it again, starts to point,...
"Just to make sure it's not trail-fatigue or something else equally silly,... Someone else DOES see that fellow in the distance? Hopping up and waving his arms? I keep losing sight of him in the hills,... but, yes! There he is again!" Merlan points for certain this time.
"Yes, Merlan. I see the chap. He seems to be trying to get our attention. We are where the map says we should be.... and there's a manor farm in the distance over there." He points to a far speck, then brushes the sweat from his forehead.
Then moves down to scratch the flank of the lion beside him.
Seeing the others stop and consult the map, Fiona rides in and gives a loud whistle to let Sahar know they're stopping. "What's the matter?" she asks Lysander. "I'd expect to be able to see the village by now... have we gone off course?"
Sahar instantly wheels and trots back to the group.
Despite her fatigue, Sharisa holds her head high.
"What's going on? This can't be the place. There's no town." She looks curiously at Lysander.
"Let's talk to the chap, maybe he knows?" Lysander says quietly; "The town could be the fortified farm, but I'm pretty sure we are in the correct area."
Following Merlan and Sandy's comments, you look to the south (-south-west) and you can also see a figure about a quarter-mile away jumping and waving at you. He starts toward you, and as he does (when you can see him, b he's still jumping), you note that he's almost certainly too thin -- and insufficiently green or grey -- to be an orc (unless there's a subraceb of orcs with tanned skin and sand-brown hair that you're not aware of).
Sahar stands in the stirrups until she spots the gesticulating figure. "Ah, I see him now... well spotted for one so low to the ground! As today's scout, I'll ride over and learn what he wants. If you see me scamper away, you do the same; I'll catch up. I hope he's our contact, though. It's been a long ride. If one other wants to join me, that's fine - just don't everyone get pulled from the pack animals. It could be bandits thinking we're a caravan ripe for the plucking."
The suspicious warpriest canters towards the distant figure.
As you ride forward, you can see the figure seem to relax for a moment... then his body language changes and tenses slightly, and he slides the longbow from his shoulder, though he doesn't raise it or reach for an arrow.
As you close, you see more details of the man -- well, boy -- before you. He's reed-thin, and about 6' tall, with skin that's been tanned in the sun to the colour of tea-stained paper, and his sand-brown hair catches the light and shines. He's wearing a well-made suit of studded leather, which has been dyed grey and the studs have been washed with something to ensure they don't shine in the light. There's a large battle-axe on his belt, and the longbow in his hand is striped -- suggesting the multiple-wood construction of a compound bow.
When you're about 200 feet away, he stops moving toward you and calls out, "You from Firrine? I'm Daven, and here to escort you in."
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Xia, knowing that she will be unable to hear any warnings, decides to ride with the warrior priest, and urges her horse to follow, so that she can see any danger with her own two eyes.
I will join. Learned to talk quite good on streets of Vigil over few years. Many strangers to talk to, even if cannot always hear.
Sahar reins in Sharisa and holds her open palms towards the young man. "We are. Can you tell me who sent you?"
The man calling himself Daven looks up at you, his expression puzzled at the question, and says, "Rickan... Why? Who else would you be looking to meet?" He tenses again, though makes no motion to draw.
Sahar smiles and nods at Xia, then bows briefly in the saddle to the boy. "Well met, Daven. I am Sahar and this is Xia. We will go fetch the others. To be honest, we expected a town along the road. Thank you for meeting us."
She wheels Sharisa, who rears as she spins, then begins the canter back to the group, making sure Xia is coming along.
"Show off. Feeling better, hmm?" she murmurs to her mare, patting her neck.
Sahar canters back to the group , not looking alarmed, and starts waving them towards her as she approaches. She calls out, "It is a young lad sent by Rickan to guide us to our destination."
Daven relaxes and laughs, "I don't think there's ever been a road... other than some ruts in the dirt from wagon wheels. With the hills, it's easy to miss in the summer -- but if you look there..." He motions back, mostly westerly, "You can just see the roofs of Assorted Goods and the Blackened Shoe... er, the livery... " As he turns his head, you see the scars of burns across his neck that were mostly hidden by his hair -- and pointed ears, making you think he's probably at least a few years older than he looks -- and when you look where he's motioning, you do notice the roofs he's describing -- though you might have passed by just thinking them to be more stones in the grass. He pauses, then his tone hardens as he adds, "..but if you didn't see any of the farms on the way in, then... well, I'm thinking you're orc-meat and won't be much help."
He slides the bow back on his shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment as if to calm himself, before nodding his head in return, "Well met." He then blinks at Xiaruau and quickly runs a hand through his hair and smiles, "I'll wait here - though if you'd like to wait with me, maybe I could answer some questions while your friend, uh, Sahar ... goes to meet the others."
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Xia shrugs and looks too Sahar.
Is okay. Others not far. I talk with lad.
Knowing that Sahar, tends to worry overly much, Xia waits for her to head off before turning to the lad.
Why say we orc-meat? We see farms. Some nice, some need work. I know you near orc lands, but looks like you here many years. Why orc problem now? Is orc problem, yes?
Xia tries to get he young man more at ease as she speaks with him.
Daven smiles at Xia, though he speaks with a voice that's somewhat forced, "Just thinking if you can't see the farms, you won't see the orcs coming... especially since they tend to come at night."
He looks down when he makes that statement, then looks back up at and smiles, a little shyly - and definitely friendly -- before coughing and forcing a gruff voice (not thinking that you can't hear it), looking you clearly in the face so you can see his lips, "Orcs are always a problem, but one we've been able to handle -- mostly. Now, the Blood Talons are pushing in a way they haven't seen Rickan shamed their Clan chief, and there are parties - warbands, maybe - of strangers. Rickan can tell you more about them, but I will say they're well-equipped, where Clan outcasts are usually scavengers with poor equipment."
Fiona starts the pack animals moving again, waiting for Lysander, Lani, and Merlan to begin before she once again falls back to bring up the rear.
When they reach the boy, she nods a greeting, her eyes showing approval as she notes the lad's armaments.
"What news?" she calls, riding up.
Seeing Sahar wave them forward and explain it is an escort, Merlan's ever-present smile widens. He Scratches 'Tiny' between the ears.
"You hear that boy? Dinner and a nap are so close you can smell them!" He says cheerfully, urging his weary pooch-ride forward.
"Hello!" Merlan happily adds into the bustle and hustle of gathering around the fellow.