the gold would be nice, but not worth a conflict between people who need to rely on each other on their way back.
Svetlana casts a long longing look at the ruby and gold and then leaves.
It is silent and while the handle turns the door is stuck.
The room beyond is dark and smells deeply of dust and decay. Tucked into the corner are the nearly mummified remains of a dwarf.
Wearing the garb of a blacksmith, the dwarf has the shattered shards
of a glass vial in one hand and a scrap of ancient parchment in the other. Written in dwarven. Tucked into the belt of the long-dead dwarf is a silver light hammer with a religious symbol carved into the head.
Odelai fights and loses her battle with the door.
Jenkin makes a fist, leans over Odelai, and whomps the door.
He makes a face at what's on the other side. "Well, that's unpleasant. Worse than the skeletons, at least they were... meatless." He looks down at the dwarf corpse, stepping aside to let others in. "We did say that we're all OK with grave robbing, right? Especially if there's no actual grave?" He plucks the parchment out of the mummified fist, doing his best no to touch anything... decaying... takes a look at it, then sighs and hands it Odelai's way. "More blocky runey letters. They look the same as the letters in the Torag book, so more Dwarven, I guess?"
Penelope looks through a gap in the people and wrinkles her nose. She sends her sense into detection mode, just in case there is evil on the corpse. A bit paranoid if the dead hadn't already risen to fight them.
Odelai looks at the message, the shattered chair that blocked the door, and the broken vial, ”He barred the door, and may have killed himself. The note says… Forgive me, dark father of the forge, my toils shall never be enough.”
She removes the light hammer from his belt and regards the symbol ”I know nothing of dwarven gods. Do you know this sigil?” She offers the weapon to Penelope then searches the room and the corpse.
Penelope takes up the symbol in her gloved hand, turning it this way and that.
Memory sparks after a moment "It's Droskar's symbol, the evil dwarven god of toil and suffering. The one from the book from Torag's defied temple." giving the symbol back she adds "This one might be the one that did that?"
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"And yet something left him despairing enough to possibly take his own life." Elowen notes.
Possible, hmm, let me see!
Svetlana once more speaks in a different language.
Типичный Дерпкар, все стандартизировано, если раб не справляется, ему дают команду на самоубийство, чтобы он не узнал, что у него есть лучшие варианты и не изменил своей верности. Рабство неэффективно, предпочтительнее добровольная служба. Her words are unusually precise, and with a detachment the quite empathetic woman typically lacks.
Her posture becomes normal again
What did I just say?
Typical Derpkar, all is standardtized, if a slave does not perform, he gets a suicide command, lest he finds out he has better options and changes his allegiance. Slavery is inefficient, willing service is preferable.
It has been a harrowing few days. A town beset by a plague that does not discriminate. The conflict between the Fey and the mortals which is a long standing one. And a forest filled with hobgoblins, tatzlwyrms wolves, a warg, and of course lumberjacks. And it can be argued about which is the bigger threat.
But your time has been well spent. It was a small list Laurel sent you with and you have found all three. The monastery has been gone through and while there is possibly more there are villagers that need is carefully tucked away in backpacks. The mysteries of the monetary will have to wait.
There are still a few hours of daylight left to start making your way back. The forest is largely calm for the moment. The ever-present bugs and birds create a background noise of life. The little fennec dramatically whimpers to avoid having limp along. And after a few hours Elowen picks a location for you all to make camp.
Sir Pounce licks the Fennek and allows it to ride on top of it.
Now that they have all the ingredients, Penelope is so eager to get back she wants to run through the woods in the dark, no matter how stupid that is. Thankfully she does not say so and keeps from looking foolish.
Beginning the process of setting up camp as they come to a halt, Elowen sets to work gathering deadwood for a fire, and the beginnings of a stew, using herbs and root vegetables she'd collected as they traveled.
A nice stew is a good way to end the day, soup is good for the soul. And running across death is not so good for the soul. The night goes by fairly easily. The fennec stays burrowed into Jenkin's side. Birds and bugs are the soundtrack as each of you take the various watches. And in time the sun comes up.
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Jenkin, normally one to sleep in if left a choice in the matter, wakes with the sunrise. Sleeping on roots and stones and having no curtains to close will do that. He does take a minute before waking to enjoy the sensation of a warm, curled-up little fox balled up against him. Should we name this little guy? Actually, should we figure out if he's actually a little guy at all before naming him or her? Problems for another day. He closes his eyes, does a slow count to sixty, enjoying the last minute of rest before rolling out of his bedroll and doing a long stretch upon standing. "Will we make it back to town today, you think?" he asks of anyone else who is awake yet.
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Having found a small clearing off to the side of the campsite, Elowen awakens just before dawn, quietly moving her bedroll to the clear spot and stripping off her clothing to sit in cross-legged meditation, embracing the day by welcoming the life-giving warmth of the sun against her skin, her mind and body awakening fully as she draws in the dawn's light, communing with nature, and her familiar, the living vine ofter wrapped around her arm or torso, delving into the ancient primal power of the nature spirits.
"We should make it there by mid-day," she answers Jenkin quietly, not bothering to open her eyes, face and palms uplifted as she bathes in the golden light of the morning sun.
Penelope has her stuff packed and ready to go quickly, then goes about cleaning up the campsite. She might be in a hurry but little things still matter.
"Ready?" she asks the group, clearly ready herself
Lets go, people need us!
Ready to get back and hoping to do so in less time than it took to get to the monetary a straight shot is chosen. Camp is quickly packed up and you all are off. It's fairly easy for Elowen to keep a mostly southern direction to reach the river in about 3 hours.
Looking around for any possible threats. Up river there is a small herd of Dunlied, small antlered deer, that do not seem bothered by you. The creature hardest to spot but the most likely threat is the grey and green great moorsnake.
"Sooo... that log over there isn't a log. It's a big moorsnake. They normally hunt at night but I'm not sure I want to be proven wrong while crossing the river. I'm bite-sized, you know." She makes a painful admission, "Also, I can't swim for sh!t."
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Lets drive it off by violence? Svetlana offers
Jenkin draws his bow and notches an arrow. "Easy enough to just stand on the shore and shoot at it, right?"
Penelope disliked hurting an animal just for the sake of convenience. But she also knew if they had to go around it would cost time, and that might be time people back home didn't have.
The half elf paladin chewed her lower lip in worry about the proper path, but still notched an arrow in her bow. A blunt one at least...
"Maybe if this will drive it off?"
Elowen makes a gesture while calling upon her nature magic, a wicked thorn javelin growing in her hand.
The blunted arrow hits somewhere among the coiled up constrictor. And the snake slithers into the water while the arrow falls into the reeds having come close to hitting but still spooked the snake.
Odelai chuckles darkly, "Well, now it is hiding behind the rock it was on... I'm open to suggestions, short of tying me to a rope and using me as a lure."
"Well, you were good with doing that for the wolves..." Jenkin says, wistfully, then pulls back his bowstring and aims the arrow up in an arc, seeing if he can get an angle on it.
"Sorry, Mr. Snake, I don't have soft arrows like Penny... so maybe you should get outta here!"
The arrow arcs up and then behind the rock. The feathers are still visible. Did it hit the snake or get caught in the reeds? When those feathers start moving and then are visible just above the water moving away.
While Penelope doesn't revel in an animal getting hurt, she does beam at the other archer and give him a celebratory pat on his arm "Good Shot!"
Odelai watches the snake swim off until it vanishes from sight.
"So... just in case it comes back while we're crossing, I'd suggest we stagger swimming across, couple at a time. Me and Penny on opposite ends, so there's always someone with a bow on the shore."
"Good plan." Penelope agrees "Since you proved the better shot, I'll go over first." she secures her bow, takes off her pack to lift over her head as best she can, and swims/walks across. (depending on depth)
Swimming is normally not a difficult thing and the water is nice and calm. But the armor, sword, full pack, the bow and arrows prove a bit of a challenge. Penny is making some distance but it is not the fastest yet.
There is more struggle than speed for a bit. But Penelope manages to get into a rhythm of a fairly confident doggy paddle. Drifting a little down stream but only by about 30ft. Muscles very sore but she made it across.
The others see the half elf pull herself out of the water and collapse. Several seconds later she raises her arm, waving at them wearily in an I'm okay gesture. Well maybe an I'm not dead gesture.
Odelai grits her teeth and ties a rope around her waist. She offers the other end to the rest of the team. "Like I said, I can't swim. So I'm going with whoever is the best swimmer here and I hope I don't drown."
Once her swim-buddy volunteers, she wades into the river and does the best she can... quickly proving her skills end at the waterline.
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Jenkin cringes a little watching Penelope's slow, sturggling swaim across the river. "Okay, maybe this isn't as easy as we thought. Hey, bright side, she didn't get bit by a snake." Summer afternoons swimming in the Foam closer to the Hallow come back to him as he watches the water. "I might have an easier time..." he admits to Odelai. "But give me a minute, I'm not trying with this armor on." He spends a few minutes shedding his armor, boots, and more, stripping down about as far as he can without feeling awkward in the company of a bunch of women. He also sorts through his pack, stuff about half his armor parts in there now and leaving half on the bank. "Alright," he says, tying the rope around his waist (also using it as a belt to cinch up his breeches, so as to avoid a malfunction of the last bit of wardrobe that's protecting his decency). "I'll haul Odelai across and half my stuff across, then... maybe I can come back if you guys need the same help." He looks down at the fennec, grabs his shirt out of his clothing pile and ties it into a loose swaddle, then used the sleeves to lash it around his neck. "Alright, let's see if sleeping on me means you're willing to get even more snuggly..." he says, then leans down and holds the makeshift satchel open. After a moment of sniffing curiously, the fox climbs in, almost as though it knows what's going on here. "Alright, next stop, the other side..." he says, wading into the current and dragging Odelai along for the ride.
He's definitely huffing a bit when he gets to the other side, but he nods as he unties the gnome and the fox from his torso. "Alright... give me a minute... and I'll head back..."
With the wooden nature of her armor allowing it to float somewhat, providing no hindrance to her swimming, Elowen removes her boots, lashing them and her staff to her back, her vine companion wrapping itself more tightly around her arm and torso, as she dives in.
While proficient, she is not an overly strong swimmer, but the shamaness does well enough, struggling at points, but pushing herself to the extra effort once the opposite bank is in sight.
Her resilience proves to be greater than one would expect from looking at her, as she tiredly climbs up onto the bank to sit and recover while waiting fo the others to cross.
Svetlana gets out of her armor and starts swimming, together with pounce and using the various ropes.
Please no f&%%ing Rusalkas, please no f$$$ing Rusalkas She mutters almost as a mantra.
It takes some time but it is a large river. Staggering things drags it out but does make things safer. Various birds look on with disdain for beasts that cant fly, though they have always done so.
There are still a few hours of daylight left. That won't let the waterlogged group reach the edge of the forest yet but it will give them somewhere safer to sleep.
Odelai half-drags herself (and is half-dragged by Jenkin) from the river. She collapses exhausted on the shore under her pile of soaked hair, looking like a drowned albino rat. She lays there for half an hour unable to speak or move. When she regains the strength to stand, she still looks worn out.
Getting up, Elowen finds a decent spot to set up camp, building a substantial fire, and dragging fallen branches over, directing the less exhausted of the others to put together impromptu drying racks near the heat of the roaring fire.
Once done, she removes her armor, unabashedly stripping out of her clothing and hanging it to dry, before setting a blanket on a nearby rock and sitting before the fire.
Once again camp is set up, a fire started, and you all can begin drying off. Though out the night there are birds and bugs but nothing very threatening. The fennic burrows into Jenkin's side to stay warm. During the last watch, just as the sun is coming up a groupp of dunlied or Brush Colts as they are commonly callled come by. Though at about 15 feet the small herd notice the sleeping tiger and quickly bolt back into the shadows.
Penelope is up quickly in the morning, starting to pack almost immediately. "We're close" the hurry in her voice is warring with politeness at not wanting to insist Come On!