"If you can do it, I have no idea what would happen next. I will have to consult the river and the stars." Biyin says with a shrug, "It is possible the stones cage even greater evil, I do not know."
"The Stones are bigger than an elephant standing on an elephant standing on an elephant."
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Cenae accepts the explanation of the items and suggests, "Perhaps I could have one of the climbing bracelets? It is a skill I lack."
As the group discusses destroying or removing the stones she pipes up with her thoughts, "Ask them, 'If we capture those responsible for murdering your clanmate, do you wish to have us bring them back for justice?'"
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The cleric adds, ”It would be nice to have feather fall or fly usable. My only way to solve that problem is to heal you after you go splat.”
She thinks a moment and then asks, ”Speaking of injuries, I can use magic to track conditions and health. But only on two of you. Grog is an obvious choice for the first one, which of the other of you would like to be divinely monitored?”
"If you can," Bayin says neutrally, shrugging his shoulders to Cenae's question. Bayin and his men shortly leave, leaving the party to sleep in the jungle, as the sun begins to set.
The next day is just as hot and humid, though with the wooden paste, the party has no issue getting through it. It is slow-going, and laborious. Trudging through the jungle, unmucking the raft, beating away mosquitos. Its well past noon, when the party sees something out of the ordinary in the water. A bloated corpse, most its features gnawed away.
Not far from the corpse is a freshly-macheted trail leading inland away from the river.
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As soon as he glances at the corpse, Numair's eye is caught by the glint of metal. Reaching down, he picks up a bronze medallion, with a snake drawn on it.
"Looks like we found at least one of the Aspis."
Glancing over the body, he notes:
"This man died as a result of a combination of claw blows, and a small bladed weapon."
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Cenae helps push the raft over to the corpse. She collects the ring and searches the body, looking for anything useful and any other identifying options. She makes sure the body does not fit the description given for their undercover operative.
Once that is done she points to the trail, ”Pretty obvious route, they weren’t trying to hide it. Everyone ready?”
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The shortsighted scholar peers across the river. "Ahh, yes... obvious."
He turns back to the body and Numair. "Not many things with claws also used bladed weapons. Could be a hunter with a trained animal companion?" he muses out loud.
"We must be wary! Wary my students. " He peers around the jungle in an especially obvious manner.
"Mr Grog, perhaps if you take the lead?"
As the party moves forward, Grog hears the rustling and grunting of beasts. Something is afoot in the jungle, bigger than you.
In a small clearing, the remnants of a campsite lie splayed open by some dark violence. Collapsed canvas tents, torn to shreds, hang about like dirty streamers. The ground is trampled into mud and decorated with the scattered coals of a fire-pit, only faintly smoldering after the torrent of afternoon rain. Viciously strewn about the site lie gory husks of bone, blood, and hair, all caked with mud and bearing vicious bites of jungle scavengers.
Three massive pigs are rooting through the remnants. Snuffling the air, they sense you and start rear and charge.
(bold can act)
Numair
Blue
Red
Grog
Khellek
Cenae
Yellow
One of the boars runs away rather than the scary sound. Another boar, not one targeted by Numair, tries to defend the cornucopia of food it had discovered, and charges Grog to try to scare off the interlopers.
(bold can act)
Numair
Blue (fleeing)
Red
Grog (-16 HP)
Khellek
Cenae
Yellow
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Khellek nods at Cenae's words.
"Indeed, take caution, but not too much caution. Remember, Explore, Report, Cooperate! You are just getting us fresh meat for dinner Grog!"
He takes Bessie (his crossbow) from his belt and loads her.
"Did I tell you about the time Bessie and I took out a bear with a single shot?"
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"Well.." starts the scholar, as his elderly hands try to fumble a bolt into place, and perhaps having missed his detect sarcasm check.
"It was a couple of years ago now." he pauses to think, counting on his fingers. "Nine, now I think of it. I was on a mission to the frozen north." he sighs, obviously having fond memories of the place, or perhaps just the temperature.
"Oh the snow, how it glistened. We had initially disembarked in Kalsgard.."
With two swings of a magically-assisted axe, Grog takes out the pig, completely. The remaining pig, effected by Numair's magic, starts to run away as well.
Grog is down 16 hit points.
The party looks around the campsite. There are numerous bodies. From the southern edge of the campsite, you can hear shouting. "Help me, help me, I heard spell-casting." The voice is speaking Taldane, Westcrown accent or maybe Corentyn, perhaps.
The sound is coming front a pile of vines and bamboo stalks, which you quickly realize is covering a pit dug into the ground.
What do you do?
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As he looks around the campsite, Khellek glances at the bodies, wondering if they bear the same sort of marks as the body the group found earlier.
His gaze then travels to the tents/accommodation. Would like indicate a local civilisation, or perhaps more people from the north - such as the Aspis.
[ood]or substitute whatever skill local?, T10s are in a spoiler in my header[/ooc]
Finally he taps Grog on the shoulder... "I wonder where the pigs came from? Do you think they were attracted by the smell of death, or did they cause it?"
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Cenae attempts to answer some of the questions being asked by her team, looking over the bodies for cause of death. And while doing so, she searches them for valuables and identifications.
”I assume you all can handle one person trapped in a pit, let me know if they need healing or any other interventions. I am really good at cauterizing open wounds…”
Some of the equipment seems to be of local make, but Khellek notices that some of it looks to be of Thuvian make, some seem to be Cheliaxian. Khellek would know that wild boar will be opportunistic scavengers, but rarely hunt large mammals.
Cenae finds a splintered weapon shaft near the bodies. There are symbols looking like hands with jagged wounds carved into the shaft. The weapon shaft is primitively constructed. Cenae cannot determine a cause of death of these bodies. Khellek would be able to tell you that the hands are an unholy symbol of the demon Sifkesh.
Numair and Grog are able to pull a man out of the pit. He's covered in mud and blood. His hair is matted with dirt, but he doesn't look like a native. "Ah, oh, please, the fish, the river, the mermaid, they swallowed them, they're all dead," the man pants in a panic. "Dead, I tell you."
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"Who swallowed them? And who were the Fish, the River and the Mermaid?" asks Khellek.
He subtly checks the camp, and the "prisoner" for signs of magic. Sibtly, as the man is obviously familiar with spellcasting, so he makes sure to be as quiet as he can, and be out of sight when he does the actual spellcasting.
"The mermaid, the fish, the river, they swallowed up them," the harried man says, his hands pointing at one of the dead body on them. "On our way back, and the mermaid and her fishies, she killed them, she killed them. They're dead, and I... I don't... I can't remember how I got in the pit."
"shutupshutupshutup," he snaps at himself.
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The elderly scholar is not the most subtle of individuals, but does his best to avoid attracting attention to himself as he searches for signs of magic.
"Ahh, so the Mermaid and her fishes killed your friends? And this was on the way back from where? " he continues to ask after having looked for signs of magic.
Why do I suspect it is on the way back from the Drowning stones... but let us not put ideas into the poor mans mind.
Grog does not find anything out of the ordinary in the mess of tracks and footprints in the mud.
"He's trying to kill me! Kill me with his wooords!" the man screams as he notices Khellek casting a spell. He cowers and puts his hands in front of his face, but when he isn't vaporized by a fireball, he puts his arms down.
"Lichten and his damn stones, those evil stones. Something deep and dark there, and now we're all dead, even me, I just don't know it yet..."
"You want my satchel, take it!" the man says throwing it on the ground. Inside the satchel is a journal, and a small two-inch metal bird. The journal seems to be written in code, but does have the name Eiastor Wyrn on the inside of the front cover.
"Please, don't abandon me in the jungle. I can take you to Lichten's damned stones if that's what you want. I'll die in the jungle by myself. And the last few miles to the stones are rough and hidden but I know the way, yes I do! I can show you!"
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"Who is Lichten?" he asks, picking up on the name the man used.[/b]"
He eyes up the bird. "Ahh, this is almost certainly the magic I detected. A silver Raven, a useful companion at times."
He directs his eyes toward the diary. "Does the name Eiastor Wyrn mean anything to any of you?" His eyes widen as he scans the pages. "Oh my, if you are going to keep correspondence such as this, you need a better code. It would appear that Paracountess Zarta Dralneen may find herself slightly compromised." he rolls his eyes. "In ways beyond which she normally finds herself compromised."
The Pathfinders, having voiced no objection, take the man who tells them his name is Lang, back to their raft, and back peddling upriver to the Drowning Stones.
After a grueling five more miles, Lang tells the group that they'll need to ditch the boat and make the rest of the journey on foot. "Its the only way."
He starts the group on a grueling hike into the jungle.