The thunder outside draws Groff out to investigate.
A quick survey of the surrounding makes it clear where the thunder is coming from. The clear skys of the earlier evening are being encroached upon by a bank for clouds blowing in quickly from the northwest and the dry of the day is replaced by what can only be described as a torrential downpour. The leading edge of the rain is just getting to the top of the sylvan hideaway as Groff emerges, and bolt of lightning strikes to the north, with a quickly following second peal of thunder.
As the rain begins to hit Groff he begins to doubt his assessment that water won't kill him. It smells of foul toxins and burns on impact. Apparently highly acidic there's a fleeting thought that this might be part of the reason that there are so few plants in the area.
He immediately heads back into the shelter.
"Ok, so rain can kill me. " showing his burns.
Groff retreats back into the sylvan hideaway, and the trap door seems to be plenty of a barrier against the acid rain outside. You hear the hard patter of rain against the ground outside for just over a minute, and then it fades away, apparently continuing to blow to the south east.
After waiting for a bit, when you check outside you see that the ground has soaked everything up, and there's almost no trace that the rain ever happened. The moisture has already disappeared and things are as arid as they were before.
1:35 AM on Manesdag, the fifth of Eostre, 3517 I.R.
In the middle of the night both Groff and Helgash hear the sounds of something moving around outside. It sounds like a group of 5 to 10 medium creatures, but there's no evidence that they're stopping at the entrance to your hideaway.
Groff shakes his head in the negative at the noise.
Helgash pauses the perusal of his alchemical formulae book as they both hear the sounds outside - his hand inches to the hilt of the blade sitting next to him, but he simply waits with a nod to Groff.
There are no sounds other than something walking, and they quickly fade away into the distance, unexamined.
The rest of the night passes without incident, and after breaking camp and making whatever preparations you'd like you're ready to set out on another day.
@Grimm, if you're casting mage armor, do you want to cast it again automatically to refresh it when it wears off during the day while you're traveling?
@Kohran, before making any of your preparations for day two of the expedition please roll a DC 20 Fortitude save for your Hedonistic Drawback.
@Everyone, I assume you'll continue on the road north unless someone says otherwise.
8:00 AM on Manesdag, the fifth of Eostre, 3517 I.R.
Helgash searches the area around their camp, trying to understand what may have been outside during the night.
"Groff, do you see any tracks?"
"Think there's some over here. "
At the start of each day Tristan casts Lucky Number on everyone
Tristan tries to help with the tracking
Khoran prepares his spells for the day and casts a (rod-extended) False Life.
He also interrupts the tracking "Get back here Helgash, you've got breakfast to cook, remember."
The nature of the road makes it difficult to find tracks, even ones so recent, but the party does manage to find evidence of a group of 5 or so quadrupeds with paws rather than hooves that traveled from north to south along the road during the night. Details beyond that are impossible to discern as the in the shifting, dusty environment, and even those traces will likely be gone by the afternoon.
"Wolves maybe?" - Helgash stares at the tracks.
11:20 AM on Manesdag, the fifth of Eostre, 3517 I.R.
After the morning preparations, you head off to the north once more, trudging along the road through the dusty, barren lands that surround you. Once again, there is nothing of note outside the road itself, but after a few hours travel you come to what looks like a crossroads.
Two sunken roads meet here in a depression in the center of the desolate plain. West lie the Black Gates of Tsar, east unknown hills rumored to occupied by goblinoids, orcs, and worse. South leads back to the Camp and Bard’s Gate, and to the north are the fabled lands of spice and riches which have drawn so many to brave these deadly lands in search of their fortune. Surely any who make it this far find their enthusiasm curbed by the sobering scene.
Great scaffolds of heavy wooden beams rise at each corner of this intersection. Suspended from their many yardarms are heavy iron cages like malignant fruit on an infernal tree. These cages hold the picked clean bones and dangling tatters of the unfortunates who have been imprisoned in them and left for the crows. Several of the bones have fallen to the ground beneath the cages and a couple of the cages have fallen to the ground themselves, their heavy chains rusted through and no longer able to support their great weight.
While Tristan is usually one to explore anything looking interesting and/or pleasurable, the Chaos Rift doesn't seem to be either and he'll opt to bypass it and continue west to Tsar unless someone gives a good reason for exploring the Rift.
"Guys, aren't you in the least curious to take a look at this massive Rift? I mean... It has got to be a sight to be seen, right?"
"We'll probably die. Gonna die eventually anyway. "
Like most of the Desolation, you don't know much at all about the Chaos Rift, but it's not natural and is rumored to have been created by the forces of Tsar during the Siege of the city by the Army of Light.
don't know much about it... But it looks pleasant.
"Ok, some questions. Have any of you tracker types seen any sign of a caravan, especially one leaving the road? There's people out here who might still be worth rescuing. As a second point, if we are taking side trips, how about the building on a hill we passed yesterday? I like loot, and I figure there are better odds in the building that's still standing, rather than the site of a magical devastation."
Grimm shakes his head at any mention of detouring. "We'll find only death out there. Gentlemen, I suggest we stay focused on Tsar."
After some discussion of the caravan and the search for Bishu, you decided to turn back and investigate what looks like it might be a building of some sort back in the Ashen Wastes. Leaving the crossroads with it's cages and silent dead behind, you head south again down the road. The day continues uneventfully, though the persistent silence of the desolation is beginning to wear on you some; other than the noises your own group makes and the low howl of the wind as it occasionally whips up swirls of dust past you nothing else in the arid lands to your left and right makes any sound at all.
Eventually you reach evening rather than any particularly appealing destination, and go through your camping rituals, with Tristan's guarded dance and another bland meal of trail rations. After the three sleepers have drifted off, Helgash and Groff are left to the watch again.
In the dead of the night the two hear the slightly familiar creaking sound of old wooden wheels on a peddler's cart approaching your location apparently from the east.
2:05 AM on Sistersdag, the sixth of Eostre, 3517 I.R.
"What... Out here?" - Helgash looks at Groff - "Why would he risk being out here on his own. Unless he is not on his own?" - the half-orc adds with a curious expression - "I gotta see this" - and carefully moves outside to see who is about.
Helgash emerges from the trapdoor to the sylvan hideaway to see the same dark figure from two nights ago in the camp, alone and pushing its cart filled with the assortment of mundane items through the Desolation. This time, as it approaches you it holds up a pair of shoes and asks again, just like before, "Buy?"
A quick examination shows that the shoes seem of average quality, and the only thing that stands out about them is that both appear to be left shoes, though the set is otherwise matched as you would expect shoes to be.
"Zrzzrrxx", Khoran snore as he sleeps in luxury.
”Sure, why not? We only have bits though. Will that work?” - Helgash replied - ”Also... Are you traveling alone?”
The creaky voice answers, "No bits, gold. If you don't gold for now then perhaps next time." Looking around at the lack of any companions the peddler gives a nod to your second question.
"I do not have enough for the shoes" - Helgash shrugs, then turns to his dwarven companion - "Do you?"
While Groff ponders the question, he turns to the mystery man again - "Say, the Usurer is ok with you dealing in gold coins?"
The dark figure cocks its head to the side and then shrugs. "Don't care much about what the Ururer wants."
Groff will hand over the coins.
When you decide to go ahead with the purchase, the peddlers nods and smiles, placing the coins into a pouch and handing you the pair of two left shoes. As the dark figure returns to his cart and begins to push it away, it gives you some advice. "Not only old dead guard Black Gates of Tsar, but something greater as well. From blackest pits of pitch and bile a new guardian arose both foul and vile. Beware his breath of clinging death."
Before you have a chance to try to follow up on his questions at all, he disappears into the dark of the Desolation, continuing on his previous route, now leading into the Ashen Waste.
After the peddler is gone a close examination of the shoes reveals that they are just as they seemed. Two mundane, unremarkable left shoes.
This somewhat confusing encounter over, nothing of interest happens for the rest of the night. When the next morning dawns, the group rises and makes their preparations for the new day.
8:00 AM on Sistersdag, the sixth of Eostre, 3517 I.R.
Tristan prepares for the new day as usual, getting ready for the sightseeing detour
At the start of each day Tristan casts Lucky Number on everyone remember your own Number and use at your discretion
"Hmm. Now I need two left feet. " he mutters after the enigmatic figure vanishes.
"Thank you for the..." - Helgash was about to address the wandering figure, but had no chance.
"Maybe you wear one, and I wear the other?" - he chuckled at Groff.
----------
"We had a visit of our travelling peddler again this evening. And before you ask anything yep, he just popped out of nowhere right here... In the middle of nowhere curiously" - the half-orc smiles at his companions - "As requested by Tristan, we completed a purchase - these amazing shoes, for the bargain of ONLY fifty gold pieces. Fronted by our own good Groff right here" - he adds, presenting the shoes to Tristan.
"Not only that, but we were left with two interesting pieces of information - he only deals in gold and not bits - I asked why, and he answered 'Don't care much about what the Usurer wants' - harsh" - he is still smiling - "And as we completed the transaction, he informed us that 'Not only old dead guard Black Gates of Tsar, but something greater as well. From blackest pits of pitch and bile a new guardian arose both foul and vile. Beware his breath of clinging death' - not sure exactly what it means but it sounds ominous, to say the least"
"You're serious, he's out here peddling junk... Believe it or not, wake me up next time, this is obviously something beyond just weird"
Khoran will take the time to fully examine the shoes
----------
Before heading out into the waste, Khoran will cast false life (extended by his rod). When we leave the road, he will cast Nature's Path, to make our travel to the 'tower' easier...
The shoes continue to stubbornly be simply two left shoes.
After finishing with your morning preparations you set off south along the road once more, continuing on it until you reach a point where you must head out into the Desolation proper to reach your intended destination. Once you enter the Ashen Waste proper, a seemingly continuous wind blows, carrying with it a perpetual cloud of a fine, powdery dust. The omnipresent dust gets into everything and covers it with a fine coating of chalky powder. It is not uncommon to have coughing fits as a choking coat forms inside your open mouth. It is also often difficult to see. Even when the wind is not blowing, a constant haze hangs in the air creating a feeling as if one is within a fog bank.
For the first hour of so of travel off the road the monotony of this bleak land is broken only by the occasional barrow mound raised by the armies of old to inter their honored dead, so take note when you see a collection of bits of metal glinting through the haze about 100 feet to the north of your path through the otherwise largely featureless plain.
10:55 AM on Sistersdag, the sixth of Eostre, 3517 I.R.
Khoran points with his longspear and speaks, words slightly muffled by the bandana he has tied over his face as dust protection, "That looks like metal - and it shouldn't be shiny if it's been out here a long time"
"Caravan?"
"Caravan?"
"How should I know? I would've thought we'd see tracks if it was from the caravan... but I think we should check it out..."
"With this wind? Nah, tracks wouldn't last. "
Well let's check it out
Well, clearly, we tromp on over to the exposed metal, keeping our eyes peeled for traps, ambushes, and so forth...
You make your way north, towards the glints of metal, proceeding with caution. As you get closer you see a haphazard collection of daggers, spikes, broken blades, and barbed bits of armor collected on the ground. You don't have time to puzzle over what they might be though as their true nature becomes evident when they leap to life in a whirlwind of steel and attack.
Everyone should roll a DC 20 perception check to avoid being surprised and act in the surprise round, and then roll initiative regardless of the check result.
7 rank +3 trained +4wis+1 trait+2 racial +2 alertness
"Hey, it's moving a bit!"
+3 dex +1 Ioun Stone