Let's get out of here, then... I sure hope Djillian is alright. Djack is ready to head off.
Whistling for Djill, Djack he comes across her just a few dozen yards up the "trail".
Back in town, the party receives their pay from the Intendente, another 200 gp each in addition to your haul from the Stronghold.
You now have the option of either following the map you found (in a couple days, after you've rested), or seeking some other form of adventure out there in the mesas somewhere.
Rocko thankfully doesn't pursue his brief half-baked plan to preserve the cockatrice corpse stuffed and then carry it along as a warning against other monsters thinking of attacking us while we rest :P
Her devotion to her god having been strengthened over the journey, the elf found the strength within her to purge the 'stone sickness' the very next day. Now that they were back in human civilization and she'd been given her share of the reward, the elf felt a bit spoilt for choice on how to use it all.
Djack splurges on a bath and grooming, for Djill and himself :)
He notices this or that winsome girl, but knows very few would ever want the type of life he currently leads. Perhaps some day, he'll settle down.
He does however engage in good deeds and random acts of kindness around town when not spending time with his new friends.
While you're waiting on your various purchases, healing, and just generally relaxing, a couple things happen.
First, you learn from a local scholar named Diogo Gomes that the distance you'll be traveling, according to the map you found, is about 110 miles (176 km) depending on your route. Dependent on route, weather, and events, that should take between 5 and 7 days (given the terrains involved) on foot or 3 to 5 days with everyone on horseback. No one will be willing to rent you horses to go that direction, so you'll need to purchase them from the , if you want them in the market or from a farmer (same price as Core Rules).
The second thing that happens is there is a minor earthquake on Octum 27, about 4 days before you depart. It's the talk of the town at the Friendly Mesa, with traders, laborers and farmers alike all abuzz. But it was pretty inconsequential otherwise, with the worst damage being Fernanda Torres' prize ceramic miniature of Albarra falling off a shelf and shattering.
Octum 31, Four days after the earthquake (seven since you returned from the Stronghold of the 4th Legion), you've gathered in front of the Friendly Mesa to prepare for the journey. It's not lost on you that you're traveling on Dia de los Descendentes, a holiday from the colonial era that's hung on, where locals celebrate the open gates between this world and the next. The holiday is celebrated by some with dancing, masks, and general revelry, while others treat it more solomly.
The weather promises to be warm-to-hot, though a dry, comforting wind blows strongly from the Northeast.
Djack having a mount, offers to take the diminutive and mighty Spizz as a second rider. But, he's just as happy to walk.
As a small gathering starts to form outside the Friendly Mesa and Djack is offering Spizz a place on his saddle, the sound of hooves on packed earth threatens the arrival of another.
Around the corner comes Elias, stood on the seat of a worn but sturdy enough wagon pulled by a horse that is flitish and unruly, its harness is a good enough fit but has clearly been inexpertly fastened and is irritating the poor creature. You've seen little of Elias since your return, he's been about town, gathering rumor and trading favours to-and-fro
"I know some folks, owe some folks, and I'm owed by more. And now none of us has to walk"
He is grinning like a child.
Travel, Day 1
As you understand the terrain near Albarra, you have a choice. You can travel south along the rancher's trail. This is the path Rocko and Spizz will remember from the first job involving the disappearing cattle; the path will be a pretty reliable road until you get to the end, about 10-12 miles. From there, you'd be in heading into buttes and mesas with no known trails for about another 10 miles until you broke through into grasslands. Those grasslands are where Rocko's people are set up. There may or may not be native villages in that area as well.
Alternately, you could travel East off-trail, this way avoiding thick mesa land approximately 1 day longer before deciding to turn South or continue South-easterly.
Either choice will eventually lead you to mesas and then mountains.
Djack inspects the horse and wagon, seemingly impressed.
Clapping Elias on the shoulder, then withdrawing his hand unsure if that's the sort of thing Mr. Quince appreciates.
Great idea, Elias. We may still walk if the haul is big enough! His wide eyes and boyish grin say it all.
To Gnoll or not to Gnoll, that is... He looks over at Rocko, Which way are you leaning? What's yer gut say?
Rocko snorts "I won't be getting no friendly welcome from most of my kin. At least none that still bite down tight on the old ways. They reckoned I was too soft-like. Certainly won't help, showin' up all chummy with a pack o' flat faces and a little dragonman."
He thinks about it.
"I reckon when we get to the golden fields I could ride ahead, see if'n maybe we can find a more easy-goin tribe or two. Trouble or no, I'll be more help findin' us food and shelter in the lands I know."
A week in the human town was interesting to say the least, spending time amongst the quick has helped debase her of some preconceived notions once held. It'll be years before she's properly acclimated yet for now it was a start. One thing she'd become immidielty enamored with was the human woman's concept of decorative bobbles, having purchased an interesting set of earrings. The woman she'd bought them from seemed very enamored with the idea of working with such long ears and was of the utmost help putting them on.
It seems that she had to be careful with her magic from then on, so as to not require constantly piercing her own ears again.
Having by the seventh day finished with her constant fiddling of the golden dangles, she sat comfortably in the horse ridden gotten alongside the human Quince. "If they are going to be trouble for us in the future, I feel confident that we'll take care of whatever issues they present."
The first leg of the journey goes as expected. The trip down the rancher's trail is one at least some of you have made before, and the only people you meet along the way are groups of revelers on their way to Albarra to celebrate Dia de los Descendentes. Everyone you meet is happy and joking, wearing masks and silly costumes.
These encounters are fewer and fewer the further out you travel; the sun is getting hot around lunchtime when you reach the end of the trail.
Rocko examines the path ahead thoughtfully; though there's no trail, the undergrowth is sparse enough that travel won't be too difficult for the wagon. The most complicated part is all of the little buttes you have to navigate around, like a sort of winding maze of natural towers.
By late afternoon, you reach a wider area, where small buttes give way to a few larger mesas, with wide-open spaces between. Travel is quick, and the most dangerous thing you encounter is a coyote, who notes your presence and wisely keeps his distance.
At last, by evening, you've reached the edge of the grassy plains beyond. Ahead of you is at least one if not two days travel through gentle hills and wide open land, with a few groves of trees here and there to break it up. Rocko breathes in deeply; something in his mind utters the phrase "home".
The night passes uneventfully, and you're off again the next morning. Throughout that second day, the temperature remains relatively cool, an indicator of having moved into a milder season. Here and there, Rocko finds evidence of campers not too long ago, but you encounter no one for the better part of the day. Toward the second evening, Rocko brings back news to the party of a Gnoll village up ahead.
Djack considers.
I'm sorta easy. I take no humanoids on sticks, well... staked out on poles really... as a good sign.
So... Were there any... humanoids... on a stick?
Yoltzin gives djack a queer look. "Humanoid?" Quicklings were quite the self-centered creatures, when it came to their scholars it seemed. "Still, I agree. Did they look unwelcoming to visitors?"
"'unwelcoming?'" Rocko considers this.
"Well, no people on sticks, that's for sure. And what was roastin' on the fire looked like regular ol' hoof beasts, not people. The Great Ones must've been good to the herds this season."
Rocko grins at a realization.
"And there bein' meat on the pit means they'll likely be in a goodish mood, not bein' starvin' and all. If we bring in somethin' to add to the meal, they might even welcome us right friendly like."
He looks around at the various horses the party now includes as well as his own little pack donkey, Jitters.
"Better make sure they don't think of puttin' our own animals to the spit. Anyone up for a quick hunt?"
It would do her some good to venerate the other gods now and again, offering up blood to Mixlcoatl would be a fine way to do so. Giving the gnoll a smile that would feel predatory to most non-beastmen, "I very much would. Will you be leading us? These are your grounds after all."
Offering to share the fruits of our hunt, excellent idea. Djack smiles.
Not only does Rocko prove adequate at the task of hunting in these lands (rolled a 19 for him off-line), he flat-out excels. With Yoltzin's help, the two bring in two quails, a jackrabbit, and multiple squirrels resident in these lands. It's more than enough to feed the group, easily enough to contribute in exchange for some water, roast herd animal, and some conversation.
Walking into the tiny village, Gnolls eye the group with suspicion, but do nothing hostile. One approaches the group and speaks in the cracking, yipping language of the Gnoll people.
"Well, traveler. You lookin' like a big shot with that fancy axe and all these flat-faces. What you be wantin' here in our little hovel?"
Rocko would have told the party beforehand what he planned on saying to the villagers so they wouldn't be surprised when he starts speaking his native language.
"We just be wanting a quiet place to rest as we head in the direction of the setting sun. We are here to break up an old bad magic deep in the hills that the Great Ones have held down for ages."
He holds up his portion of the hunt and has the others do the same.
"We bring food to share and have strength and skill to help fix anything what might be devilin' you folks."
Small game wasn't wouldn't be much of an offering to the gods, but she had performed her ceremony using some of the jackrabbit's drained blood. Splotches of red stood out against the green skin around her mouth, having not had time to properly wash before this meeting. While the beast-tongue was of course decisively unfamiliar to her, she recognized Rocko's prompt to present her kill all the same.
The Gnolls are reasonably impressed with your addition to the food, and welcome you to sit around the town center, an irregular circle with a well in the middle surrounded by huts and dozens of "seats" of log or stone.
It feels kind of like a campfire experience as you dine with the Gnolls; Rocko seems positively civilized in comparison to these rustic beings, who squabble and tussle over food but somehow never actually fight.
Spizz, in particular, has great fun entertaining several of the younger Gnolls with minor spell effects (mostly just little jets of fire put to creative use).
Djack looks to Rocko then to the Gnolls sitting with them, hoping maybe one or two Gnolls know rudimentary common.
Do they... trade?
One of the elders turns and calls out in his language. Soon a female approaches with a very young child. To Djack's surprise, the child looks at him.
"Hey, biggie from da outside! You want something from Gnollus? in very accented Espan(Common).
The commoners around you laugh a snickering, animalistic laugh at Djack's surprise.
Catching himself, albeit too late. No. Thinking how you pay for what you need. Farm, hunt, trade?
Rocko will discretely whisper to his fellow party members "It would sure help our good standing with the village if we trade, even if'n they don't have nothing ye want. At least they'll be having fresh food for trail rations, just not yer usual liking. They'll certainly be glad for spare tools and medicines if you got them."
While Djack and the others are bartering with the villagers, Rocko will chat with the elders for news of what might be happening near the Well of Entropy. If bad stuff is leaking out it will make our job easier finding it, but Rocko would prefer the area stay safe.
"What news from the other clans and wandering tribes? I see the herds have done well this windy season. My companions and I hope to find this bad magic and help the Great Ones put an end to it before it drives the herds away or makes them sick or twisted."
Rocko will dutifully make a quick hand motion of protection that is taught to all the superstitious gnoll folk from the area.
"What news from the other clans and wandering tribes? I see the herds have done well this windy season. My companions and I hope to find this bad magic and help the Great Ones put an end to it before it drives the herds away or makes them sick or twisted."
"The other plains clans we mostly don't get along with; but we all have too few warriors, so we mostly just try to stay out of each other's way."
"We have not see those who wander beyond the plains for a long time. A generation or more, I guess. You know how it is since the warlords are gone, brother. We are all just trying to get by. They stopped coming, we didn't go looking for trouble."
None of them seem to have any knowledge of the Wellspring, or problems over the hills.
Catching himself, albeit too late. No. Thinking how you pay for what you need. Farm, hunt, trade?
"Okey Dokey, big boss! We no trade often anyway; other Gnollus too mean, and human traders no like us from the old days! We used to be eatin' youse!" The kid snaps its jaws at Djack as if to illustrate. The other commoners seem to think that's hilarious.
"We mostly gathering and hunting, and farming! My father's a gatherer, big strong one, getting fruits from trees and cactuses. I saw him climb up high into the moonlight one night to get it. I'm gonna learn how to be doing that," the boy says proudly.
There was something about the practices of these 'gnollus' that had a spark of familiarity to her. While her own people detested sapient consumption outside of certain death rituals, she wondered if they shared any other traditions or beliefs. Voicing her intenral musings, "What of trade amongst my own kind, those that dwell under the canopies? While my village was sedentary, I have heard of clans who wandered."
Djack makes an exaggerated startled expressing, emphasized by raising his hands in defense. But, he's smiling and playing along.
Sounds peaceful. What kind of farming? Come... show me.
He stands up.
"Sorry, biggie. Have to go home now," he says as his mom tugs on his hand. With that, the child departs, and Djack is back to gestures and guesswork for communication.
If he is truly interested, one of the farmers will show him to the edge of the village (a hundred yards away or so) where there are a few plots of corn and some squash laid out. It's pretty haphazard; Djack guesses the hunting and gathering part is really what feeds most of the Gnolls here.
Having completed their interlude in the small village, the group goes back to their wagon at the northern edge. One of the Gnolls shows them a trail that leads roughly in the direction they're heading; though it's not fit for a wagon, it does avoid low-lying flood areas and seems like a good enough path.
From the lay of the mountains, Rocko determines it would be a good time to turn west toward the end of the day. There's a place where, if you hit it right, you only have about a 10 mile trek through the mountains before you reach the other side. This is what you're shooting for.
At the end of the second day, you've traveled about 40 miles. As you traveled southward, the wind picked up substantially, and the temperature, while warm, was quite cool compared to what you're used to in the fall.
The night gets actually somewhat cold, moreso even than the night before.
The first and second watch of night two are mostly silent, but on the final watch, before sunrise, Spizz awakens you.
"There are figures moving in the dark. They're advancing toward our camp from the west," Spizz notes with alarm.
Yoltzin blinks once, gradually coming back to awareness from her meditation. "Did you see how many?"
"At least a half-dozen, maybe more," Spizz says earnestly.
Djack wakes, Figures, I's jus' was dreamin' about figures... pro'bly a different kind.
Distance? He reaches for his armor and starts to put it on.
Gonna need some light, 'r I'm... blind. He seems practical if a bit sleepy.
Looking out across the plains toward the mountain, Djack can barely see the movement just as they come into range for Yoltzin's darkvision.
Anyone with low-light vision can see the outline of humanoid forms walking slowly across the plains.
Darkvision can make out the figures clearly. They are human-appearing, but something is not right about them; their faces hang loose, flesh torn open or limbs hanging at odd angles.
Well, Rocko would be able to offer darkvision, but sadly he's one of the ones still sleeping :P
Well, Rocko would be able to offer darkvision, but sadly he's one of the ones still sleeping :P
"Wandering spirits?" She mused aloud, sweeping herself up from the ground while drawing her Longbow. These corpses do not look tended by those who respected the dead as she were familiar with, leading only two conclusions. The work of a malicious spirit-caller, or the a simple case of the restless dead. Either way, she would put this to an end.
Initiative
They're moving awfully slow. Everyone will be able to act for two rounds before they reach you.
Please Roll initiative. I will roll for anyone who hasn't rolled by tomorrow evening.
Zombies:
Round 1 begin
They're moving awfully slow. Everyone will be able to act for two rounds before they reach you.
Party may act at will.
"Spizz will give them a VERY warm welcome."
Moving forward a span, the elf lifts up her charred skull emblem, looking upon the merciless dead with mournful pity. Despite her conviction however, she's not as familiar with this application of her celestial fire causing limited effect.
Let sleeping dogs lie, for frick sake... he mumbles under his breath.
Djack dashes towards the first interloper he can reach, stabbing at one of its legs.