'It's probably a good story." Fej allowed, when Tchokito mentioned pirates. "Someday, you'll have to tell it to me." The man slowly raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. "You have been many places, my friend. You could make a living as a storyteller, if the begging street performer act doesn't work out. "
He looks out over the star dotted ocean. "Another month or two. That's a long time on ship." Another sip and then, quietly, "With no place to go, Tchokito. I'll be honest. If we run across a city or something, I'm jumping ship and not looking back. "
"Any chance of anything out here other then haunted islands? The last two didn't seem likely places to make a long and fruitful career. Any idea what is in Valenhall? The Ulfen have all kinds of legends but nothing that sounds real. Endless feasts? Legions of honored warriors fighting in combat, dying only to rise again? A place where the Gods play dice with the heros of the past? What do you make of it, Tchokito. Sound realistic to you?"
Tchokito is quiet a long moment. "That story is not one I care to tell much of," he states at length. "In spite of how important it was to who I am now. Suffering... is often so."
After a quite moment he shakes his head slightly, as if to throw the memory off. "I'm afraid you'll have little chance of finding somewhere to stay before our destination. I've heard of efforts to settle one or two of the islands of Azlant, but those are to the south and east of us. Perhaps there might be a settlement of merfolk or the like offshore of one of the islands, but I doubt you or I would find such hospitable."
"As for Valenhall, if I knew I would not be going there," he says, with another raspy laugh. "I sorely doubt it is quite as described, given it remains on the surface of Golarion, but *something* must be there."
'Something,' Fej replied, sipping his drink again, "Covers a lot of ground." Or sea.
The weather over the next few days became rougher, with winds out of the east strong enough to create whitecaps on the waves. Overhead the clouds became sullen and gray, obscuring both sun and moon. While the ship pitched wildly over rough waters, they were forced to rely solely on Eliyyah's headings, often little more then a finger point toward a distant, misty horizon.
The Ulfen were no stranger to bad weather and Hallmundur even seemed to enjoy a more lively boat for a chance, but ii did mean more work for everyone. Sails needed adjusted more often, a task that became immensely difficult with the ship swaying like a child's rocking horse. The deck needed cleaned more often, not only from the surging salt spray but also from results of uneasy stomachs. A cold rain started to fall three days after the party, a chill curtain of raindrops that turned the world to a fuzzy outline.
Everything was wet, from the lines and ropes, to the lower decks. No ship was leakproof and Ulfen ships were not built for comfort. Tchokito would have worried he smelled like wet feathers except everyone else stank too. Tempers flared in the bad weather, aided by the fact that the cookfires went out and couldn't be relit in the pitching surf. Fej is particularly edgy, between the bad food and the greater demands from his overseers. His complaints are not entirely unjustified since Tchokito notes the anarchist is set aloft in the worst weather more often then others.
Tchokito was considering these problems at the prow of the ship, holding on tightly as the vessel plowed through rising waves. He was joined by Findeladlara, although she stood silently. Cheok was holding onto a rope with more then usual force, doing his best to ignore fluttering feathers. Tchokito was just about to suggest they get out of the wind when he saw something ahead. A dark mass.
Another ship? A wave? No. It was much, much bigger.
Peering through the rain, Tchokito could see it was a island, although of unusual shape. A single sharp peak of dark rock, thrusting into the sky like an animal's tooth. The slopes looked wild and jagged, reaching right down to the water's edge. It was hard to tell due to the slashing rain, but there seemed to be a smoke...or a shadow, hanging around it. Something that dulled the eye and did not move in the wind.
Tchokito nods to Findeladlara as she joins him at the bow, though he does not try to breach her silence for the moment. Instead he looks ahead and notes the shape in the distance.
He examines it for a moment, then casts a glance at Cheok. In their private tongue he comments, "It seems as if the next island shall be as unfriendly as the last."
Looking back to the rest of the ship he calls out, "Unless Eliyyah says otherwise I suspect our next stop is ahead, but it may be wise to anchor some distance from it."
"Well, the last island was fine." Cheok replies, turning his shiny, beady eyes on the dark spike ahead. "It was just the things on it. The first island was the unfriendly one." Fair enough. Turning everything to stone daily was pretty aggressive.
Bells were rung, orders shouted, sailors galvanized into action at Tchokito shout, not that the witch was the only one to spot the looming landmass. Even through the rain most had seen the dark ominous shape. It wasn't easy but eventually the ship was brought around, even if it did still tip and slide like a toy in a bathtub.
Captain Hallmundur makes his way to the prow, the broad man moving across the pitching deck with practiced ease. He mopped his damp brow before gazing darkly at the island ahead.
The man grunted but said, "In weather like this, I wish we could anchor. A bit of time ashore would do us, and the ship good. A hot meal and some dry land would not go amiss." Another long look at the slowly approaching land, "But what you say is probably correct. Gods only know what is on there, considering the last two. Any guesses?"
The big Ulfen turned to Tchokito, "Same procedure as before? Or do you want to change up the landing party? Maybe take Øybiorn and lose him properly?" The Ulfen 'noble', although quite abashed by the first adventure, had started to re-gather his grandiose nature the last few days and was driving the Captain into long periods of grumpiness.
"A fell aura seems to cling to the land," Tchokito replies to Captain Hallmundur. "Given what we have encountered before I can only guess it is the result of some lingering magics of Azlant, or their restless dead."
He shrugs, feathers ruffling in the wind. "Or it will be an entirely new sort of threat. Ancient ruins have a surprising tendancy to be... surprising. But with that aura about it seems wisest not to get the whole ship close regardless."
A hint of humor glitters in the tengu's dark eyes. "I think I will go with the same group. While it is... somewhat tempting to ask Øybjorn to come along, I do not genuinely wish him ill, so I think it best to leave him behind."
He pauses. "In some ways I wish there were another spellcaster to take with us. Given what we have encountered thus far more magical support than myself would be comforting."
"Restless dead.." The Ulfen seaman says uneasily, "Don't say such things Tchokito. It gives them power." Nervously the man raps the wooden rail with his knuckles. "Are you trying to tempt fate? The Gods love listening in to such things."
Reluctantly the Captain agrees with Tchokito's desire to keep the ship free of any possible otherworldly influences. "It will be riskier in the small boat with these rough seas. You'll have a real chance of losing your way out there." A larger then average waves crests the prow and spatters them both with flecks of foam and spray. "Even Hjalte will have issues rowing you through that, and Gods only know if there are reefs or shoals close in. "
When Tchokito expresses his views about another spellcaster Hallmundur grunts and casts his eyes to Findeladlara. A soft sigh, barely audible over the crashing waves and then, "Findeladlara!"
The lean elf turns, her tight-fitting leathers washed with sea spray. "Yes, Captain?" she says in her refined voice.
"I assume you heard Tchokito's request?"
The elf shrugs, "I was merely overlooking the landmass ahead, I wasn't..."
"Of course." Kristtór Hallmundur grunted. "Well, Tchokito hear wants another spellcaster to go ashore. I'm assigning you."
"Me?" Findeladlara says with mock surprise, "I have no-"
"All elves are magic, everyone knows that." The Ulfen man says shortly. Before Tchokito can correct this rather bald oversight, Findeladlara shrugs and says, "Very well."
Her cool purple eyes survey the tengu closely for a minute, "I do admit I am intrigued by the stories of his adventures so far. Perhaps a trip ashore will prove indightful?"
"Delightful." Hallmundur grunts and turns to Tchokito, "Then at your pleasure, Tchokito. This weather isn't getting any better." The Ulfen stumps away, boots loud on the wooden deck.
Tchokito gives Findeladlara a slight bow. "I apologize for not asking you directly... and for the Captain's assumption," he says in Elven. "Might I ask what skills you could use should we again encounter danger?"
He gives the Captain a slightly deeper bow. "I will gather everyone and depart as soon as we are all ready. Though perhaps in the future I might tell you something about the elves I have known."
Looking back to the elf he adds, "Findeladlara, if you will join us at the boat when you are prepared?"
After her answer he goes to gather the rest of the group, gives his own equipment (including the improvised sheathe for his blade) a looking-over, then gets to the boat.
"Keep a wary eye out on our approach. Whatever dangers this island may hold might well not wait for us to land," he instructs, before helping to launch the boat from the Linnorm's Breath into the rough seas.
Findeladlara is silent until Hallmunudr moves away. The elf shrugs then, "I do not begrudge mortals their mental shortcuts. With such short lifespans, such things are unavoidable."
When Tchokito asks about her skills she gives him a long, steady look. "Enough to help, I am sure. Worry about yourself and the others." Then she gives a frosty smile, "You speak Elven like my grandmother. Where did you learn it? I would say an ancient book but there are no books old enough. Some lost tribe from the Mwangi Expanse, perhaps? In any case, Common will suit both of us fine, I am sure. There is no need to strain yourself."
With that she heads back up the deck, as steady as if she was walking on a city street and not a pitching, wildly rocking ship at sea. Meanwhile Oddný, Hjalte and Tchokito manhandle a boat over the side and into the cresting waves. Just looking at it makes his stomach churn, but there is nothing else for it.
All three of them clamber into it, followed by an usually distracted Eliyyah. The mad cleric is usually overly excited about visiting these islands but seems somewhat depressed today. Not the best omen.
Findeladlara arrives momentarily and looks down into the pitching boat for a long moment, taking in the tossed Ulfen men, women and tengu. With a smirk she glances at the rope ladders they used and then smoothly leaps down, landing gracefully in the small boat. Cheok floats down after her and grabs Tchokito's shoulder with tight claws. In their own language he squawks, "I like her."
The dark island looms ahead and Tchokito's view of it gets better as they get closer. Squinting, it seems to not just be bare slopes of smooth, wave-washed rock. No, it seems to be covered in a low growth of bare-limbed trees and undergrowth, straggling in tangled knots right to the water's edge. No color however, not even variations of shades. Just a strange, listless seeming blackish-gray. When he remarks on this, Hjalte grunts, Eliyyah ignores him and Oddný looks excited. Findeladlara merely looks ahead, then shrugs.
"Perhaps."
But tchokito must soon resist the temptation to look ahead, for he has work to do.
Tchokito has learned much seamanship, not only during his travels but only during this recent sojourn among the Ulfen. The witch needs every bit of it during the slow approach to the island. It is not just the dizzying waves that threaten to tip the boat at every turn, but Tchokito soon discovers razor-sharp rocks hide just below the surface. Planting himself in the prow, it becomes a full time job to watch out for such obstacles and to steer around them. A few heart-stopping times he is forced to push them away with an oar, like a river boatman. Everyone, Findeladlara and Eliyyah included have to help at the oars. Cheok is forced to remain grounded, clutching on against the blustering waves and wind.
So it isn't until they are finally grounding the small boat on a gravel shore that the witch can breathe deeply and look around. For awhile the world still pitches and reels, his mind still imagining the toss of the sea. Finally though his inner ear catches up and he gets a good look.
His stomach grows cold as he realizes the jagged, wind-blown shapes around them are not bare trees, or even wave-sculpted driftwood.
They are bones.
And not just any bones, but massive ones. Giant femurs and arm bones longer then Tchokito litter the landscape while exposed ribcages larger then barns reach toward the sky. Many look old and pockmarked, but others are fresher, still enamel smooth. They are lying on the rocky surface of the ground, with no signs of burial or other accommodation.
But there is something even stranger then the seemingly endless panorama of bones. The world is...wrong. Everything seems drained somehow, as if someone had come along and dulled Tchokito's sense of the world. Colors are muted, lessened somehow. The sound of the surf seems fainter then it should and even the tug of the breeze on his feather is fuzzy. Dream-like almost, or if he had imbibed some perception-altering drug.
Yet, somehow the witch has the sense it is not he that is altered, but the world around him.
He glances at the others and it is obvious in a moment, he is not alone. (oddly, his new sight of auras is apparently untouched, their flicking lights remain unchanged). Everyone looks at the forbidding landscape with concern and fear. Well, except Findeladlara who is as unreadable as ever.
Tchokito's feathers are all standing on end as he looks around the island. He tries to think what all this could mean. The size of these bones... giants? But the island scarce seemed able to support giants, unless they were seafaring and came here to die... but why then not bury the dead?
Dragons? But despite perpetual rumors of dragon graveyards evidence of them was scarce. But perhaps he could recognize the bones?
Perhaps it was entirely the effect of some magic? Thinking of the other two islands they had stopped at, he hypothesizes aloud.
"Perhaps this island is touched by the Negative Energy Plane, much as the last had a portal to that of Positive Energy?" He considers another moment, then adds, "Or perhaps the Plane of Shadow. Either way it seems likely that we must beware energy-draining effects. Speak up if you feel an unusual sense of lethargy or weakness. It may be the only sign we get of danger."
"Now..." the tengu looks about again, his dark eyes trying to look past the bones and gloom to see their goal. "We must press forward and search for our next beacon."
Tchokito pauses on the gravelly, pebble strewn beach and surveys the area around him carefully. Not only in the (strangely muted) physical world, but in that strange world of magic that dwelt just behind the mundane one. Out of the corner of his eye he notes Findeladlara doing the same.
The tengu sees nothing in particular, nothing structured nearby. No traps or active enchantments ready to spring into action. And yet, there is a low level arcane 'mist' about, the scattered relics of powerful spells, left to ruin and rot. This is not surprising. Dragons, particularly old ones, are some of the most potent spellcasters on Golarion and to find relics of protective wards here is not shocking.
And they are dragons. A glimpse of a massive skull, larger then a peasant's hut, is enough to convince everyone of that. Eye socket big enough for Tchokito to sit in stare out balefully, as if warding away trespassers.
The witch tries to identify what type of dragon it may have been. Not only for personal curiosity (as noted, dragon graveyards are a hotly debated issue of natural science) but also personal safety. The types of traps and perils left by, say a scholarly green dragon are very different then those of a infernal red. Still, Tchokito is no dragon expert. With nothing but bare bones, he can tell little except these dragons have been dead for quite awhile. Dragon bone is very durable stuff, so for these to be pock marked and sun-bleached indicates a long time.
When the tengu indicates their beacon, Eliyyah rasies a hand and points, of course, to the summit of the looming, shadow shrouded volcano. "Up." The cleric croaks.
"Obviously." Oddný says. "Where else?"
Tchokito cannot help but shiver a bit, feathers puffing out as he examines the bones. As if the bones were not enough, the faded hints of power in the air are more than enough to set him on edge.
Cheok, on the other talon, looks about with bright interest. The feeling of power in the air entices him, and so he is on the lookout for anything interesting.
"I wonder if these all come from before the fall of Azlant," the tengu muses aloud, trying to break his sense of unease. "All of them are very old, at the least. Let us hope that means no wards or guardians remain."
He sets out towards the volcano while keeping a wary eye on his surroundings, contrasting his familiar's keen, almost hungry look.
"Hopes, of course, that have not borne out thus far," Tchokito adds. "Stay wary. There is a feel of old magic in the air here. There used to be enchantments on this place. Some may still function, though I have not yet detected any intact ones."
Tchokito begins moving past the dead dragon when, to his surprise, Hjalte and Oddný pause near it. After a long look, Hjalte grunts, "Black."
Oddný nods in agreement, turning to Tchokito, "Black dragon. Or, well, it was."
Tchokito is floored by this bit of information and must reveal it because Oddný rolls her eyes and says, "We are Ulfen, Tchokito. You know what that means? We hunt linnorms, which are a type of dragonkind."
Findeladlara looks Oddný over and says bluntly, "You've never killed a linnorm." Oddný flushes and Hjalte actually strides forward but the female huntresses places a hand on his arm, halting him. Tchokito is surprised by this burst of emotion. Did such a phrase mean more among these people? Standing straight Oddný says, blush receding "No, I have not. But someday I will."
Then she looks to Tchoktio, "Anyway, it was a black. You can tell by the grooves in the teeth and the backward facing spines on the lower neck. My master taught me such things."
Armed with this surprising bit of knowledge, they head onward. It is not an easy time. For one thing, there is no road or path, not even a trace of one. Whatever might have been has been so demolished by time (or dragon) as to be invisible. As soon as they leave the rocky beach, they re climbing the low, craggy hills leading to the real heights.
Worse, dragon bones block the way. Obviously they all try to avoid directly interacting with them, feeling a cold dread at the sight of exposed ribs, razor sharp tails and claws the size of forearms. Still, sometimes the rough landscape did not allow strict avoidance and a few times they are forced to clamber directly through a fallen giant. Tchokito's feather's tingled and even Cheok took care to not use the exposed ivory-like bones as perches.
Here and there Tchokito notes the ruined remains of a wall or embankment. To his pracicted eye they do not look like natural formation or the work of pick and shovel. No, they were walls made by magic, from spells such as Wall of Stone or Stone Shape. The remains of burial chambers? Ramparts?
Still, nothing alarms him until they pass over one long hill into a rugged valley. It is filled with bones like those behind except they seem fresher, smoother, less worn. The bones were getting newer. Worse, the tingle of magic sent a shiver down his spine. Something was active here, in this narrow valley.
Tchokito begins moving past the dead dragon when, to his surprise, Hjalte and Oddný pause near it. After a long look, Hjalte grunts, "Black."
Oddný nods in agreement, turning to Tchokito, "Black dragon. Or, well, it was."
Tchokito is floored by this bit of information (or at least the source) and his face must reveal it because Oddný rolls her eyes and says, "We are Ulfen, Tchokito. You know what that means? We hunt linnorms, which are a type of dragonkind."
Findeladlara looks Oddný over and says bluntly, "You've never killed a linnorm." Oddný flushes and Hjalte actually strides forward but the female huntresses places a hand on his arm, halting him. Tchokito is surprised by this burst of emotion. Did such a phrase mean more among these people? Standing straight Oddný says, blush receding "No, I have not. But someday I will."
Then she looks to Tchoktio, "Anyway, it was a black. You can tell by the grooves in the teeth and the backward facing spines on the lower neck. My master taught me such things."
Armed with this surprising bit of knowledge, they head onward. It is not an easy time. For one thing, there is no road or path, not even a trace of one. Whatever might have been has been so demolished by time (or dragon) as to be invisible. As soon as they leave the rocky beach, they re climbing the low, craggy hills leading to the real heights.
Worse, dragon bones block the way. Obviously they all try to avoid directly interacting with them, feeling a cold dread at the sight of exposed ribs, razor sharp tails and claws the size of forearms. Still, sometimes the rough landscape did not allow strict avoidance and a few times they are forced to clamber directly through a fallen giant. Tchokito's feather's tingled and even Cheok took care to not use the exposed ivory-like bones as perches.
Here and there Tchokito notes the ruined remains of a wall or embankment. To his practiced eye they do not look like natural formation or the work of pick and shovel. No, they were walls made by magic, from spells such as Wall of Stone or Stone Shape. The remains of burial chambers? Ramparts?
Still, nothing alarms him until they pass over one long hill into a rugged valley. It is filled with bones like those behind except they seem fresher, smoother, less worn. The bones were getting newer. And there were more of the low, worn walls here. Worst of all, the tingle of magic sent a shiver down his spine. Something was active here, in this narrow valley.
After a moment's surprise, Tchokito shoots his Ulfen companions a keen look. "I thought only those who seek kingship hunted the linnorms?"
He remains on-edge as they scramble between and over the bones. He was not so squeamish about death or bones--even had he less experience with dealing and dealing with such, being friends with a small flock of ravens would have been intolerable if such things bothered him. But the reminder that things so large and powerful had died here, combined with the fact that said creatures would not look kindly on others exploring their graveyard, was more than enough to keep his feathers puffed out.
He wonders why dragons would have erected walls here. The witch assumes it was the dragons, at least--they would have the magic to do so, though Azlant would also... but why would Azlant raise walls here? Though that got to the question of why their beacon was here. Had they built it in a show of power, claiming they were greater even than dragons? Was it because of the magical properties of this location? Had the dragons still been actively using it? Were they still using it?
A "yes" to that question seems more likely as the group finds newer bones... and newer magic. Tchokito holds up a hand.
"There is magic still active here," he says aloud.
How long had they lapsed in silence here, among the dead? He shakes off the thought and continues "It seems likely to be a ward of some sort. Let me see if I can determine its boundaries."
Focusing his power, the witch casts a simple magic detection spell. His eyes glow blue as he slowly walks forward, sweeping the area with his enchanted vision and seeking to follow the threads of arcana here.
Oddný shrugs, "If you do it alone. I'm a huntress and what would be a better challenge then facing a linnorm?" Her voice gains an excited edge, "There are group hunts after all. Not every linnorm kill is about the kingship. Sometimes they are just dangers. Hjalte went on such a hunt once, didn't you?" The big Ulfen grunts and shrugs.
"Yes, you did."Oddný rushes on, "It was a young linnorm, causing trouble for a bunch of fishing villages. Not only stealing the catches, but burning the boats. So they gathered a group together and tracked it down. Fought it right in the lair! Imagine!"
"Well, they didn't kill it, but they drove it off and it never returned. So they did some good."
"Probably drove it tot he next group of villages over." Findeladlara says dryly but Oddný ignores the elf. "One day, I'd like to do something like that."
Later they stop at the edge of the twisted, narrow valley that leads up the jagged mountain like an open sore. Ragged bones are scattered up and down the dark ravine, reaching out like fingers. The low walls twist along the ground like the roots of a gnarled old trees, bursting out of the ground.
Tchokito casts his spell, waits and...nothing.
Nothing? That can't be right. There is clearly something going on down there. Every sense he has shouts it but the Detect Magic spell seems to find nothing. Curious.
Tchokito narrows his eyes slightly in the closest he can come to a frown. "Whatever power is active here is hidden from simple means of detection, it seems," he comments, still staring at the bones and stones ahead. "And that suggests it is either a trap, or something that would strike from ambush."
He pauses, tilting his head slightly in thought. "Unfortunately dragons would not have to leave a way for those traveling on foot to get through..." he muses, looking around. "But would Azlant have cleared a path? Or perhaps this was after they left...?"
The tengu looks around for any sign of a path, or any other clues to what lies ahead.
"There may be nothing for it but to go through regardless. If we do, I will go first. I am more proficient at protecting myself from hostile magic than others."
"Your options only crease the surface, witch." Findeladlara says when Tchokito outlines a few options. "The depths of possible dangers here is greater then perhaps you can imagine." Still, she doesn't add anything helpful. Typical.
There is no real path, in any direction. The natural lay of the land, mostly due to random erosion is this narrow crevasse that leads up the mountain slope. They could clamber around but it would involve climbing some rather steep bare slopes of rocks that are just as studded with random bones and low walls. Tchokito has a feeling as they advance, the signs of more recent magics will increase. Still, he can't quite shake a fear of dread as they head into the valley.
They have to travel single file, Tchokito in the lead with Oddný behind, bow in hand. Behind the hunter steps Findeladlara, the elf nearly silent among the otherwise loud and clattering stones. Eliyyah after her, oddly silent and subdued, not raising his eyes. Behind him crunches Hjalte, even and strong as ever. Clearly it takes more then dried bones to worry the Ulfen raider.
Descending into the valley is an unpleasant experience however. The jagged walls block out the sun and soon they are in a world of twilight, surrounded by rough rocky crags and dragon bones. The bones gleam dimly in the thin light, looking as sharp and hard as ice. There is enough room to avoid them, which is good since Tchokito has a feeling they would slice right through armor. The strange un-sense that cloaks the island seems to grow stronger, a sort of siphoning off of substance. Sounds are duller, colors muted, and even touch less sensitive.
Every step, Tchokito sense of something bad increasing, palpable concern. He is just about to stop and perhaps order a retreat when...
A suddenly chill breeze fills the area around them, ruffling Tchokito's feathers and playing with Oddný's hair. The scent of dry dust and stale blood fills Tchokito's nose. Around them shadows seem to emerge from the very rocks and bones. Shadowy robed shapes, lacking faces or bodies. Ghostly apparitions, swirling in the grave-ridden wind.
The shades rush toward them in silent flurry, and a strange feeling of panic and fear descends on them, a real as a blanket. Tchokito's heart starts to race, his skin prickling, his muscles preparing to run, hide, fight, anything!
But Tchokito is not quite so easily frightened. His is scared, but not out of his wits. As usual the link with Cheok helps, as the raven is not effected by the strange aura. Still, his ears ring strangely and his vision blurs for a moment. The world shifts under his feet and his friends become dim outlines, forgotten shapes.
"Fear!" The raven croaks in Common, slicing though the darkling mist. "Confusion!"
And indeed it is. A spell close to that of confusion has been cast by...whatever is here. The shadows? Tchokito shakes off the lingering disorientation. Glancing he sees Oddný do he same while Findeladlara just gives the specters an icy sneer. Eliyyah falls to the ground, apparently unharmed but also terrified. Perhaps he is merely scared but not spell touched?
His concerns for the cleric die away when he sees Hjalte. Unlike the rest of them, the hulking Ulfen is not merely shaken or stunned. Instead he is breathing in great choking gasps, like a drowning man. Without warning he rips his sword out of his sheathe and roars like a madman, literal forth appearing on his lips. The sword gleams dully as he points it at Tchokito, then Findeladlara and then back again. A wild light enters his eyes as the shades circle around him, ripples of shadow cloth brushing his skin. Hands shaking Hjalte looks back and forth, muscles tensing.
Tchokito realizes they are in terrible danger of Hjalte attacking them. Clearly the paranoid effect has penetrated the Ulfen's brain and, so confused, very well may kill them all. Images of the man wrestling a remorhaz to the ground fills his mind. No, he would rather not wrestle Hjalte.
The witch's mind races. What was this? An undead? No, it was more then that...a haunt. That strange combination of undead and trap, the lingering embodiment of a spell and violent death. Many times they were accidental by-products of murder but a dragon could easily create one on purpose if it wished. A potent guardian indeed.
Such things could be destroyed in three ways. One, channeling positive energy would effect it like any undead. Second, destroying the local scenery would often disrupt the chains holding the haunt in place. And thirdly, most haunts had a condition that would end the effect. This was usually a dangerous or obscure approach. Tchokito had heard of one haunt that could only be disabled if an intruder willingly allowed a specter to possess himself.
"Haunted." Tchokito's quiet statement feels almost like a curse in his beak.
Hauntings were a weakness in his defenses against hostile magic, since they were, in some ways, not magic at all in the traditional sense. Oh, certainly, the way some bit of spirit and emotion tied itself to a location had an element of the arcane to it, but not in any way that could be touched by spellcasting. Well, spellcasting other than flooding it with positive energy, that is.
But at this point, dispelling the haunt might well not solve the issue, that being the Ulfen warrior now at the point of lashing out. Hmmm, but... dispelling... that might work, if the power of the haunt was weak enough...
"Oddný, see if you can help Eliyyah. I am going to try to undo the effects of the haunt upon Hjalte," the tengu says quietly. He briefly considers asking something of Findeladlara, but not only does he not know the elf's capabilities, he suspects she will do exactly as she pleases regardless, so he saves his breath for his spellcasting.
While the haunt is too strange of magic to be assailed by his spells, its effect on Hjalte may not be. Quietly but firmly he intones the syllables of dispel magic, trying to strip away the magic affecting Hjalte's mind.
It was hard to focus in the bewildering circumstances. The strange drained landscape, the forbidding bones encircling them, the strange ethereal cloaked figures not to mention trying to focus a spell on his ally. With all of that, it is no wonder the tengu's spell fizzles out before it even gets going.
Oddný kneels down beside Eliyyah, trying to get him on his feet.
"Idiot." Findeladlara says sharply, "Mess around like that, he'll kill us all. We need to be more direct." Despite her dark words though, Tchokito thought he glimpsed a bit of an icy smile around her lips.
With that the elf pointed an long finger at the enraged and confused Ulfen. Smiling slightly, she spoke the words of power. There was a crack of thunder loud enough to rattle Tchokito's teeth and a bolt of blue lighting sizzled through the air toward Hjalte.
Despite his size however, the Ulfen raider was quick. With startling speed he dodged the crackling jet of pure energy, catching it along his blade and shoulder, instead of the chest. The burning smell of hair and skin filled the little valley, but clearly it did less then Findeladlara had hoped.
Around Hjalte the shadows swirled, muttering words just on the edge of Tchokito's hearing. Pouring more magic and confusion into the raider? Not that he needed it. The elf's attack seemed to decide the matter. Letting loose a growling roar, the man rushed toward the elf.
He covered the ground in surprising speed, boots sending gravel into the air behind him. The sword gleamed in the dim twilight, whistling through the air. Hjalte swings it in a wild, savage arc aimed for Findeladlara 's head
The elf dodges it with grace however, moving with her own blurring speed. Still, Tchokito can see her purple eyes widen at the realization she is suddenly toe to toe with a raging Ulfen berserker. If Tchokito didn't do something, this was likely to end badly.
"I think you see the problems with your approach," Tchokito comments. "We are not killing him. Get as far from him as you can."
The witch prepares his own spell and casts it as soon as Findeladlara gets some space between her and the berserk Ulfen, while opening the distance a bit himself. Once she has, he waves a fragment of cobweb in the air between taloned fingers, causing massive ropes of silk to spring into being all around Hjalte.
"If we can slow him down enough, we can lead him out of here, after which the confusion should wear off after roughly a minute. Anything you can do to help with that would be appreciated."
"You want me to outrun him?" Findeladlara says, breathing hard as she barely dodges the wild swinging blows of the enraged Ulfen raider. "I do not think that will be an particularly effective."
Meanwhile Tchokito does his best to remain calm in the midst of both mundane chaos and supernatural paranoia (which he can still feel tugging at the edges of his mind). He reaches into that slightly altered arcane well and calls forth power.
Suddenly thick, sticky ropes burst out of the ground and the surrounding canyon walls, springing toward Hjalte. The man, so intent on slicing Findeladlara up into bits, fails to see them coming. In an instant he is covered with Tchokitos 'web', with wrist-thick strands wrapping around his legs, arms and torso. Entrapped, the man starts to writhe furiously, roaring with rage and trying to wield his sword against the wrappings.
Meanwhile Oddný has Eliyyah on his feet, although the cleric looks as pale as a ghost and is mumbling to himself. Clearly, while not driven to homicidal rage like Hjalte, the haunt has severely effected the already fragile cleric.
"So we are leaving?" The huntress says, looking at Hjalte with concern and pity. "We can't leave him here...."
Meanwhile, the Ulfen tries his best to free himself of the clinging, sticky web.
Muscles straining, Tchokito watches with disbelief as the Ulfen tears the web out of the ground. With a creaking wrench, the strands are ripped from the earth, sending showers of gravel and bone as the roots are torn free. With an enraged roar of victory Hjalte raises his sword toward Tchokito and gives a feral, maniac grin.
"Yes, this is much better." Findeladlara says drily.
"Keep moving!" Tchokito urges as his web catches Hjalte. "It won't hold him for long."
The tengu quickly thinks over his options and determines he has no good ones, and so he decides on the least bad one. Summoning his ancestral magic he sprouts wings, hoping devoutly that he won't find he needed to save the ability for later. Just in time he starts to fly further from Hjalte as the Ulfen tears free from the webbing.
Dipping low Tchokito picks up a rock from the ground and throws it at Hjalte. "Come, take your madness out on me!" he shouts, then aims for the other end of the valley.
"I'll lead him out, you just keep going!" he shouts to Oddný and Findeladlara.
Findeladlara gives Tchokito a dirty look, and then glances at Eliyyah and Oddný. "Leave me with the children. Typical."
Then Tchokito flies off, unable to hear what else the elf mutters. Still, his plan seems to work when he hits Hjalte with a brick sized rock. The stone doesn't seem to do any damage to the enraged Ulfen, but it gets his attention. With a growling roar, and still shrouded by paranoid shadows, he chases after the flying tengu.
Being airborne means Tchokito can easily outpace the Ulfen and, more importantly, stay out of range of his sword. Every now and then the witch stoops, grabs a rock and tosses it, egging the Ulfen on. Slowly, he draws Hjalte farther and farther from the haunt. Tchokito is struck by a memory of a street performer he saw once, in Goka. A man with a trained cobra that swayed to the sound of his flute.
Except his cobra isn't trained.
Still, Tchokito is getting complacent as they leave the bony valley and therefore is looking ahead instead of behind when danger strikes.
With a loud roar Hjalte suddenly throws his sword at the witch.
The sword sings as it flies through the air, straight and true. Tchokito just has time to realize the razor sharp blade is not going to miss...when it hits. The blade slashes across his back and new wings, throwing a spray of blood and feathers. As the pain rips across him, he sees the shadows close in on Hjalte and the Ulfen man falls to the ground, spasming.
Tchokito screeches in pain as the sword slashes him, and his flight falters for a moment. After a moment the tengu gathers himself, confirms nothing immediately dangerous is injured, and turns towards the fallen Ulfen.
This is not behaving as a normal haunt, or normal confusion. It seems that getting Hjalte out of the area may not be possible, which means... he had best hope this works.
Turning his flight, Tchokito flies towards Hjalte, gathering healing energies around his hands. He skims just above the fallen man, raking his positive energy-infused talons through the shadows.
Tchokito swooped down on the shadows, which hung over the fallen Ulfen like vultures on a kill. The tengu reached into his arcane well of power and pulled powerful magic from that strange place. Bronze colored light pooled around his arms and wings, and for a moment the flying witch looked like a shooting star, a trail of glittering light behind him.
Then he dove onto the shadows like a hunting hawk. The light flashed, rays and beams slicing into the gathering darkness. For a second they froze in place, lit with shining auras of healing magic, black teeth on the bony ground. Then they flickered and broke, letting out howls of anger and hunger, reduced to mere wisps of black shadow retreating back toward the bone strewn valley.
In an instant they are gone, leaving Hjalte alone. The man is still lying on the ground but he has stopped jerking in painful spasms, and the healing magic glows on his body. Slowly he sits up, holding his head like a drunk after a bender.
With obvious difficult he stands up, then waves his hand at the still flying Tchokito.
Tchokito's feathers, puffed up from fear and agitation, smooth back down somewhat as he sees Hjalte acting more himself. He wonders for a moment if he should have tried this earlier, but... even if he'd not been struck down by Hjalte's blade, it might well have been that the haunt was stronger where it had triggered. It was difficult to tell with such things.
He turns in his flight, sailing back overhead the Ulfen. "Hjalte, if you are well enough now, I will retrieve your sword for you," he calls out. The tengu waits for a response to decide whether to land by Hjalte or continue in the direction he'd thrown his sword.
The Ulfen still looks a bit dazed and confused so Tchokito flies off to find the man's sword. The witch locates it struck deep in a gravel pile, only the pommel showing. His back winces in pain when he pulls it free and sees traces of his own blood on it.
Flying back to Hjalte, he sees Oddný and the others clustered around the Ulfen raider. They seemed to be describing to him what happened.
"Huh?" Hjalte says, blinking slowly, as if he had just woken up, "Are you sure? I don't remember.."
"Well that is a comfort," Findeladlara said, the elf flicking unseen dust off her fingers. "At least you don't recall going mad and trying to kill us all." She turns to Tchokito who is just landing, "What do you think Tchokito? Is such a memeory a boon or a curse? At least we know it wasn't personal when he tried to spilt me up the middle."
Oddný gives the elf a hard look and says , "It isn't his fault! It was magic! The place was haunted, it could have been any of us."
The elf sorcerer (for surely sorcerer she must be?) looks unimpressed and says, "Well, I didn't feel any urge to suddenly attack my companions. Perhaps he lives in a more...feral condition."
Hjalte just seems bemused by this, looking at the sky, his hands and his bloody sword.
Tchokito pulls his healing wand out and waves it a couple of times over his wound.
The tengu squashes his first instinct to say something acerbic to Findeladlara, instead saying, "We cannot afford infighting. The fact that he was affected by the haunt was clear to see, unless you were blind to those spirits. Now, if Hjalte is well enough, we had best continue on. I would not like to find that this haunt can recover swiftly enough to trigger again before we move on."
Tchokito's spell heals more then his words and tempers are still a bit frayed as the venture forward. The path gets steeper as they reach the lower foothills of the old volcano, winding through blackened rocks and piles of ash. There are few plants or animals here, just open slopes of gravel or crunchy soil.
There are more dragon bones, and everything seems newer and fresher as they climb. Also, the evidence of other structures increase. Ruined walls, thresholds and collapsed roofs of stone. Here and there Tchokito even finds fragments of monuments or stele carven in ancient Draconic script. Nothing much legible, but one seems to record the deeds of a mighty wyrm.
"Tombstones." Oddný says when he explains.
Everyone shudders.
They are just reaching the actual ascent when they come across their first burial complex. A ruined set of low stone buildings and porticoes in concentric squares, blasted and ruin by age and fire. Fallen statues lie smashed on the ground, while doors are long gone. What might have once been a fountain is sinking into the ashen ground, barely visible. Still, some of the buildings remain and a few even have roofs. A large barrel-shape center building looms over the others, black-streaked stone. Could a dragon lord actually be inside?
Involuntarily, Tchokito and Cheok venture toward the gaping door. This is what they lived for, to discover such places, to learn-
The tengu stops as if glued to the ground. near the door is a chalked X, bright green on the dark stone.
Chalk. Modern chalk that would wash off in the first good rainstorm. Someone was here, or had been very recently.
Tchokito lingers over some of the carvings, trying to make out more of their inscriptions. "I did not think dragons wrote records like these," he murmurs to himself.
The tengu inhales sharply when he spots the chalk. How had someone else been here? There'd been no sign of other ships, and they were so far from the normal routes...
...teleportation? That would be concerning. As concerning as the idea that they'd come from the sea. So... why mark it with chalk? It seemed the sort of thing one would do to mark a location as searched, but... searching for what?
"Someone else has been here recently," Tchokito states. "Be wary."
He cautiously approaches the door, eyes darting to and fro searching for dangers.
The others look just as surprised as Tchokito at the idea they were not alone. The last islands had been isolated for perhaps centuries and this one had seemed no different. There had been no sign of ships or landing parties, which usually left extensive traces. Few dared sail the shattered seas around the ruins of Azlant and not only because of the dangers but because it led nowhere. Why would anyone come here?
Tchokito approached the vast vault and, carefully keeping an eye for traps (or intruders), peeked inside. What he saw did not scare or threaten or even shock him. His first instinct was.... sadness.
Inside, the ruin was a wreck. But it was not the rot and ruin of age, that endless passage of time that consigned all to dust. No, the roof here had held out the weather, the walls stood firm. Something far more intelligent had wreaked destruction here.
The entire room Tchokito looked.... looted. Smashed boxes and crates littered the floor, chunks of wood and iron tossed aside. Remnants of pottery were ankle deep in places, bright colors shimmering like fallen feathers. What looks like shelves of books or tablets were broken and falling down. In one corner what seemed to be wooden coffins were spilt open, mummified remains haphazardly strewn about. Everything looked tromp or stomped on by hasty feet.
Everything of value, or at least with an easy resale value had been taken.
Tchokito was too old a hand to not recognize these signs for what they were. Treasure hunters had been here, plunderers and thieves. Grave robbers.
Tchokito shakes his head in dismay as he considers the scene. Not just plundered, but plundered carelessly. Who knew what had been lost to greed simply because it did not appear valuable at first glance? Had names, histories, knowledge been lost forever to uncaring destruction?
The witch takes a breath and lets it out slowly. Nothing more to be done here. Should they hurry onward, in hopes of catching who had done this?
...if they lingered, would any remaining guardians mistake them for the perpetrators?
Either way, it seemed wisest to move on. And yet, here he was lingering, thinking of searching in hopes of discovering some scrap of knowledge.
He glances at his familiar. "A quick look only... just to see if there is anything that would tell us of what to expect ahead."
Tchokito is not certain if he's trying to explain to Cheok or convince himself, but he does give the ruins a quick look to see if there is anything to be learned in a brief time.
Purely for practical reason of course. Just to see if the intruders left any information of themselves as well as possible traps ahead. Not because Tchokito would want to look at the remains of an ancient dragon vault, something he has never even seen records of. The tengu had zero desire to see something no scholar has seen in millennia, to learn priceless things long lost. Nope, nothing like that at all.
The witch surveys the scene quickly, pausing here and there to stare at the walls, to push aside piles of debris with his foot, and occasionally just to smell the space. There is little to see, but what does remain is tantalizing.
As far as archeology, it seems the tomb was built by a dragon lord from a distant land (obviously). Intriguingly though the dragon apparently brought human craftsmen with him to actually build the burial complex. Judging from the writing style and alphabet, Tchokito guesses a Mwangi Expanse culture but can tell nothing else other then that. The witch has no idea if the human craftsmen were returned, somehow, back home after they finished or if they to are buried somewhere here.
The actual chamber which presumably contained the draconic corpse lay further beyond this 'small' antechamber (a room larger enough for a small house).
As for the possible intruders they left little behind except damage. Clearly they do not care for the knowledge or wisdom to be gained here, just raw resale value. Frustratingly, Tchokito finds the seepage of color and sense to be curtailed his examination. It was like trying to find clues through a fog, one that not only clouded his sight but his tough and ears.
Still, it does seem as there were a number of them, perhaps as many as a dozen vandals/plunderers. Of roughly human size and bipedal, wearing boots. So, at least it wasn't giants or ghosts. Or deamons...
Tchokito caws mournfully after examining the wreckage. So much lost... well, they'd simply have to catch up to these robbers!
Though the numerical odds were not in their favor... they'd have to be careful about it. And there was the open question of how they'd gotten here and how they knew about this place.
The tengu takes a moment to get the worst of the dust out of his feathers before rejoining the others.
"A group of about a dozen humanoids was here not long ago," he states. "It looks like they took everything they thought they could sell and left. We'd best keep an eye out for them as we proceed. Knowing how these sorts tend to think, they'd likely not be happy to see us."
He casts a wary eye to the skies--it would be useful for Cheok to take a look ahead, but he didn't dare ask his friend to fly in a storm. "We should keep moving, however. Who knows what they might do to try to claim such a source of power as what we seek?"
Hjalte pushes over a smashed shard of pottery with a toe and grunts, "Thieves not seek power like you. They want gold, jewels not magic." This was not strictly true of course, Tchokito had met many a plunderer after old secrets and hidden magic but the Ulfen had a point. The smash and grab operations here seemed more the work of petty market-based robbers. Then again, they very well might end up in Tchokito's way anyway.
The weather is getting worse as they leave the ruined vault and keep climbing. The sky overhead is a mass of dark sullen clouds, rolling and pitching. A breeze starts to blow, rising off the sea that spreads out in all directions around them. Even at this distance, Tchokito can see tiny whitecaps starting to form out there, waves picking up.
Delightful.
No rain yet, at least.
As they climb the ruins become more and more extensive, even as the slopes grow steeper. Ahead, the summit of the volcano slices through the dark sky like a needle, but Tchokito only has eyes for the landscape around him.
It is not a ruined city, like he has encountered before but instead a series of distinct complexes, each different and unique bearing the marks of a dozen different civilizations. Tchokito's keen eye has see traces of Mwagwani Expanse, Crown of the World, Tian Xia as well as Taldane cultures not to mention many he does not know. Shattered columns, the remains of statues, arcing vaults and cracked porticos doe the landscape. Most seem to be based around a huge barrel vault center, presumably a burial chamber for the dragon's remains. While most of the complexes are in advanced states of decay, the vaults seems to be whole and solid, a relic of greater magic perhaps. Tchokito aches to pause and explore but he has the sense this may be...unwise.
There are no exposed bones here, no corpses. There are signs of dragons however, for them seem immortalized on every surface. Engravings and reliefs, statues and frescos. Mosaics and gargoyles. Tchokiot has the feeling that, in the past he would have found weavings and tapestries too.
Most are plundered however, marked with chalked X's. The signs of intruders are more clear here and frequent and Tchokito gets the feeling this is not the work of a single band in a day but a persistent and organized ransacking of the island over the course of weeks, maybe months.
The path, slowly forming a solid road, winds between the structures and ruins, heading upward, ever upward. It seems to lead right to the summit. Around him the world is ever more drained of light and sensation, becoming a dull shadow of itself. An empty, cracked vessel.
Tchokito's eyes are dull with sorrow by the time the path turns more into a road. So much lost... history that would now likely never be known again, all smashed for a few coins. He drags his thoughts with difficulty from the idea of violent retribution being visited on those who did this to what he and those with him will do.
It's clear to him by now that this is no small-time gang, no handful of opportunists that stumbled upon a treasure trove. Where they come from and how they get here are questions for later, however, for what this almost certainly means is that they have both considerable numbers and some access to magic. He supposes it is possible they come and go without magical aid, but given the circumstances, it seems best to assume they do have some.
What all this means is that remaining unseen is of the utmost importance. The tengu casts an eye over his companions. He himself was fairly adept at stealth... Hjalte? Most likely not.
"I am concerned by the evidence of how many people have been here," he states. "An operation of this size would probably take discovery... poorly. Perhaps violently so. I think it might be best if I scout ahead a little ways, to make certain we do not run into them, at the least without forewarning."
With that he moves ahead, darting from cover to cover, wary for signs of others.
Cheok ghosts overhead, silently winging over the walls and rubble-strewn plazas. The raven made an excellent companion for such work. Indeed he would probably be better alone but Tchokito was reluctant to send his friend into bad weather alone. Not to mention sometimes the corvid was....less then precise in description. The memorable time he called a sleeping ice giant 'a big cold person' comes to mind.
Still, it is a comfort to have him winging close by.
The burial complexes also offer a good deal of cover. Arcing walls, cracked arches, vast empty fountains, all of it is great at hiding the tengu from any watchful eyes. The downside is, he keeps wanting to stop and read the inscriptions and study the artwork. Every few feet his eyes automatically catalogue another mystery.
Was that really a Minkai treasure vase? A carved depiction of a sky dragon? The remains of a Boggard Storm idol?
No time. Tchokito ventured onward, head turned against the growing wind. It started to rain, light but chilly drops shifting through the air. It turned the already gray and misty world even more opaque and drained. The witch was just about to head back, wet feathers ruffling, when he heard voices ahead.
He froze and then, slowly and silently, slunk ahead.
Around a pile of crumbled stone, slipping past the corner of a cracked flowerpot, Tchokito managed to approach the voices silently. Finally he stopped and listened, the voices closer now, just on the other side of a stone wall, wrapping around some sort of plaza.
"By the broken dream, I hate rain." A voice grumbles in, a surprise to Tchokito, rough Common. A strange accent though, whispery and faint. Not one he knew.
"Shut up." Another says harshly, "You won't be complaining when we get this loot back home."
"Sure I will, Qovir." the first voice, unabashed. "Sure I will."
A pause and then, "How long is she going to take? I hate rain."
"Long as it takes," Another voice, "Would you rather we rushed and missed things? Or worse, wasted time poking around rooms we already did?"
Tchokito's feathers settle just slightly when it's clear that the speakers haven't spotted him. He makes a mental note to seek out some spells that help with stealth. It seemed like every island he'd been realizing other spells he'd like to learn...
But that was a thought for another time. For now, the question was, what to do? Was there a way to stop these looters? He tilts his head to one side in thought. At least three voices... with a fourth within. Were there more, though? He pauses a moment, listening, to see if he can guess at the answer to that.
His mind works as he listens. Should they just try to avoid them? Were there more teams than just the one?
...could he mark off some locations so they wouldn't loot them? That would require getting ahead of them, though. As he tries to get his count, he also considers the path ahead, and how practical it would be to bypass them.
Tchokito carefully considers his options, even as he listens hard. It is hard to tell the number of people from murmured complaints, breathing and stamping of feet. Worse the quiet drizzle of rain alters sounds and gets in his ears but, after several long moments the witch is fairly certain there is no more then six looters on the other side of the wall.
Avoiding them is the obvious option, of course. Simply go around, and get to the top of the mountain. This has downsides of course. Tchokito has no idea where these looters are going next, making it impossible to safely avoid them with no risk. It would be all too easy to run into them again.
Worse, although the burial complexes are getting more elaborate and complete (providing more cover), all roads seem to lead to the summit. It is very likely that the looters will be headed the same way. Also, Tchokito has seen no sign of conveyance yet, magical or mundane meaning perhaps the looters are entering the island from the volcano someplace? A tunnel perhaps?
So bypassing them in the short term would be fairly easy but long term might be hard.
Taking a risk, the witch edges closer and puts his bright orange eye to a crack in the wall. Doing his best to remain silent, he peers through millennia old masonry, past flakes of stone.
Behind the wall are six dark, hunched figures. All are wearing dim dark clothes of gray and black, well matching the shadowy landscape. Camouflage perhaps? The witch assumes they are human, since they are the right shape and build, if thin. And then one turns, revealing a face of pale skin and yellow eyes. Lanky, pale hair pokes out from under the rain hood.
Fetchlings, inhabitants from the Shadow Plane.
Ah... the Shadow Plane. That would explain much. Tchokito wonders how long there's been a portal between the planes here, for that is what he would guess it is. Perhaps the portal is, in fact, their goal? It would fit with the pattern thus far...
But that leaves the question of what to do about these fetchlings. Much as the witch hates what they are doing, he is... disinclined to simply attack them without warning, but forewarned they will be dangerous.
With these thoughts in mind he cautiously makes his way back to the rest of the group.
"Six fetchlings, and at least one more inside. Given the pattern we have seen, they likely came through a portal bound to what we seek here, meaning we're unlikely to be able to avoid them. But neither do I want to attack them without warning..."
He pauses a moment. "Perhaps I could speak with them, while the rest of you remain hidden. If they prove hostile, I will retreat to where you wait in ambush. If not, we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed."
Tchokito's proposal is met with some...resistance.
Hjalte laughed, his voice booming loud enough to make the witch wince. "What next, bird-man? Sit and drink with them? Share stories? Crazy."
To Tchokito's, and her own obvious, surprise Findeladlara agrees adding, "I think you are overestimating your skills here, Tchokito. Either they are a danger, and we should attack them from ambush, or they aren't and we can just go around. I don't think making new lifelong friends is our goal here?"
Even Oddný , who generally agrees with Tchokito shakes her head, 'It does seem awfully risky, Tchokito. What if they take you hostage or something? Are you sure you really want to do that."
Eliyyah sits on the cracked remains of an urn. When the tengu glances at him the cleric says, simply-
"In Reason, Nature, Truth, he dares to trust:
Ye Fops, be silent: and ye Wits, be just."
Tchokito stubbornly shakes his head. "I do not kill people simply because they might threaten me," he states firmly. "But I am not going to risk myself foolishly. I will speak to them from a distance--from somewhere you can be hidden right around me. If they approach me to attack, they will find themselve ambushed. But if they are willing to speak, then there will be no need to show yourselves, just in case they reconsider. The primary risk would be if they all stay at a range and simply shoot me, but that should give me enough warning to find cover."
He did not say anything about how the only one who was supporting him in this was the madman. In fact, he tried not to think about that particular fact at all.
"I think it is a stupid idea," Findeladlara says, the tall elf rolling her eyes. "Risking all that for what, because you felt charitable this morning? "
"Kill them, birdman." Hjalte rumbles, "Thieves and robbers, that is what you called them. "
Oddný does nod though and say, "It does seem cruel to just kill them without any warning. We don't know who they are. I vote we go around."
"We are voting?" Findeladlara say scathingly. "Are votes weighed by wisdom and experience?"
Tensions are rising when a new voice cuts out. "Well, I for one think it is a great plan." A cheerful male voice with a soft, slithery accent. A voice Tchokito does not recognize.
The tengu looks over his shoulder to see a figure sitting on a crumbling stone wall, feet swinging freely. A fetchling, wearing the same dusky, rain-gear as the others he had spied on. His hood is thrown back, revealing a pale pointed face and a shock of bright red hair, garish as blood. He is smiling, casually.
"Very sporting, I think." The figure says.
At his side Findeladlara curses and starts a gesture but stops, eyes narrowing. She curses again and says, "It's just an illusion." Hjalte grunts in knowing disappointment.
"Quite right." The fetchling sings outs, nodding, "I am watching you from a safe hiding hole, me and my mates. I suppose we had the same thought on how to approach matters. "
He shrugs but his voice hardens, "So, who is in charge here? And why are you on my turf? Qrada the Cunning doesn't share, not with Sunside Folks like yourself, anyway."
Tchokito does his best to hide his surprise, tilting his head to ones side as he considers the illusory fetchling. "If you've been watching us, I should think you would know the answer to your first question already," he comments.
"As for why we are here?" Not wanting to frankly admit their purpose, he quickly thinks of something plausible and related. "We detected a portal to the Plane of Shadow here and came to investigate. Imagine our surprise at finding these structures... and our dismay at finding how much of their true value has been destroyed."
"It's clear you scarcely even know what you've found, or you'd be taking a lighter touch here--you probably could have gotten double the value of whatever you've looted just from the fees you could charge for leading the right scholars here. Or perhaps... this isn't *really* your turf, so you have to smash and grab too quickly for that?"
As he speaks, the witch tries to empathically get across to Cheok the need to keep watch. Using a diversion while setting up an ambush seems likely here.
The fetchling raises an eyebrow at Tchokito's first remark. At his side Findeladlara smirks, "He must not recognize your natural charisma and leadership skills, Tchokito. Amazing."
When Tchokito lies, he watches the fetchling's face closely, looking for any tells or signs of deception. The witch sees nothing of the sort, although it is obvious his words deeply disturb the tomb raider, although the pale faced man tries to pass it off.
"Keep your nose in your own business. " The fetchling says sharply, a bit defensive. "Run your own affairs and don't tell others how to do things." As he talks Cheok ghosts off a cracked stone statue, gliding into the air. The fetchling ignores the raven.
"But what I want to know is why do you want a portal home?" Seeing Tchokito's face, "To the Shadow Plane. And why did you guess one was here?"
Cheok circles up slowly, and hopefully can give a full report soon.
Tchokito starts to pace as he speaks, his talons clicking on the stone. Movement would draw the eye, keep the focus on him while Cheok scouted. "It's simple enough to discern this area has been influenced by the Shadow Plane. While at the edges of the island it wasn't too obvious, the influence of the portal has grown more obvious the further we've penetrated into the interior. But in truth, we *were* searching for it."
He needed to explain why they were interested in them without revealing the true power involved, in case this fetchling gang got ideas about its value. "It is one of a set, you see. A set that has some peculiar properties--not something that would be interesting to you, perhaps, but one we find particularly exciting. The important part here is that each portal points to the next, so we rather need to see this portal to continue our mission."
He turns in his pacing, using the opportunity to quickly look himself for signs of approaching danger.
"The rest of our group would be quite disappointed if we returned without that knowledge." Suggesting a larger group would make it less appealing to just kill them.
Doing even difficult things gets better with practice so it is with relative ease that tchokito can hold a conversation as well maintaining a link with Cheok. This is good because the tengu has no idea how to read the strange, rictus-grin wearing fetchling.
The raven flits about the stones and bones surrounding them, a tiny shadow among greater shadows. Bright eyes in the dark. Soon Cheok discovers an interesting thing. There is no one else. No other fetchlings hiding among the soggy ruins, or crouching behind stones. As best as the raven can tell, Qrada the Cunning is alone.
"Well, I'm heart-broken." The fetchling grave-robber says bluntly, still with that same pointed smile. "That you came all this way for nothing, but you did. This is our place, so beat it."
Hjalte laughs then, a rumbling, rocky sound, "Shadow man not know? Ulfen go where they wish!"
The fetchling narrows his eyes, "I don't care if you are D'ziriak nobles. No one steps on my turf without my permission. Is that a threat, beardy?" Hjalte grins, clearly hoping this comes to blows.
He turns back to Tchokito, "So, are you going to turn back around?"
Tchokito caws a dark laugh. "I stood in the fires of creation, burning dying and healing in a moment that seemed eternal for this pursuit. Nothing you could possibly do to me would compare with that agony, and turning back would make that pain meaningless."
He fixes the illusion with a fierce stare. "Nothing we are doing is worth the lives you would spend to kill us. Letting us pass will cost you nothing. I should think you could make that calculation."
The tengu looks to his companions. "We should move. Given that I've not detected any signs of them moving to ambush us here, they are likely preparing such a place further along, and we would be better off not giving them more time to do so."
The fetchling shrugged, "Your funeral." they paused, "Not that you'll get one. Everyone knows fetchlings sell corpses." With that the illusion flickers and vanishes. Somewhere nearby Qrada is probably hurrying away, keeping out of sight. he was hidden well enough to evade Cheok, after all.
Findeladlara eyes the spot and says, "Well, he won't be alone for long. I doubt your argument will mean much to him. His friends are certain to try and ambush us."
Hjalte shrugs, "Shadow man. Still bleed when cut."
Oddný looks up at the mountain peak, much closer now, a jagged tooth of dark stone. At this range Tchokito can see the intricate series of funeral sites dotting the slopes. It'll be like walking through an endless mausoleum.
"Lots of bad places to be ambushed." The huntress says firmly, years of experience behind her words. "They know we are coming and where we are going. It is going to be hard to avoid trouble, Tchokito. Assuming they want to fight us, of course."