"Don't fret now, you will be safe with us." Reaching into his pack, Balnar removes his winter cloak and settles it on the girl's shoulders. "Now if you stay close to Sherrif Rall here, I imagine he would be very good at keeping you safe, would you be able to guide us to where those childre have been taken? There is a very good chance they could be in serious trouble and need our help."
If Rall does not see anything of interest in the place where the girl emerged from the woods [spot check 1d20=3] , he attempts to take on the role of protective deputy sheriff now hiding his fear [bluff check 1d20+6=18].
"Yes, we know you're scared but we really need your help here."
The girl wraps the cloak around her and smiles wanly.
"I know where the little lizard men live. But you won't make it there today. There's another place though you can stay. An empty house I can show you that is on the way."
"Are there just the five of you?"
Bowen begins to eye the girl wearily, 'I do not believe this girl could survive this long on her own out here...' he says just below a whisper.
Bowen
Rall continues to lead from the rear. He remains oblivious to Bowen's suspicions about the girl.
Bowen keeps his scimitar in hand and keeps the girl in his peripheral vision as they continue. He also keeps his suspicions to himself as he thinks he just doesn't spend enough time with actual people...
But something just feels wrong about all of this he turns to the girl, "When did you come to be at the woman's.... What was her name again? I seem to have forgotten."
The girl looks quizzically at Bowen for a moment and then realizing what he is asking she says, “You mean Elara’s house. My parents were killed by a savage beast and I was left an orphan. They were potters.”
“The house in the woods is this way,” she says, pointing in a westerly direction. “Nobody lives there anymore but sometimes there are funny noises inside.”
“My name is Jeva,” she adds a moment later, very matter of factly, like a child trying to appear grown up. She tosses her hair and moves in the direction she has indicated.
Rall waits for Bowen to lead.
"Well Jeva, please show us the way to this shelter of yours." Bowen scans the path and tries to pick up any tracks of any kind as they walk with out slowing.
"So how is it that these 'lizards' have never found you?"
"I'm just lucky I guess," says the girl, "I've always been lucky, sort of. Like the night of the fire. I had sneaked out of my room to pick berries. But my friends..."
Even though she insists she is just lucky, Bowen can't help but notice that she moves with some skill through the woods.
Soon, the party must stop for the lantern to be lit but after that they make good progress through the deep woods.
After about two hours, they enter a clearing of sorts. Though no trees grow atop the small hill, the massive trees around it are so tall and wide as to still block most of the sun. At the top of the hill there is a small cottage. There are no lights in the cottage and the yard looks untended.
Balnar stays alert to danger, something doesn't seem right here.
As they aproach the hill Bowen's nerves have still not died down and he continues to grip his scimitar till his nuckles are white only now and then loosening them before blood flow stops and he is unable to hold his weapon.
As they enter the clearing his eyes dart in all directions and try and take everything in at once running through his memory seeing if he can place their new surroundings.
Rall is remembering a time in Oppara when three younger members of his gang of pickpockets were beaten to death and left in the sewers by a local crimelord. He is definately not paying attention.
All
Around the edge of the clearing, a perfectly circular clearing, twisted trunks of trees grow as if they are trying to avoid the spot. None of their branches stretch out over the grass. Several razor crows sit in the branches of the trees, watching the party. The door of the ugly mud hut looks rotted and off its hinges, though it still blocks the entrance. Strange fetishes dangle from the eaves of the roof, collections of bones, roots and carcasses. Scattered around the yard in front of the hut are more fetishes, over a dozen little thatched objects in the rough shapes of men and snakes and winged devils.
Bowen
Balnar
Curious, Balnar approaches the straw imp that he spotted.
With a final sigh Bowen sheathes his scimitar and motions as discreetly as possible for any others with weapons out to do the same. If this is the witches hut then let them see they mean no harm.
Curious, Balnar approaches the straw imp that he spotted.
Balnar:
"Be fore warned comrades I believe this is the woman of great power we seek," Bowen continues to eye the little girl when he remembers otherwise he stares at the house still not quite coming out of the woods.
Bowen
Rall smiles snidely.
"I know the like," he says thinking of the fortuneteller/con-artists who associated with riff-raff like him and his little gang of thieves.
'I've been the type,' he thinks wondering if the Madame Yuselli costume would even fit him anymore.
He sheaths his weapon and tries to appear as friendly as possible.
With a loud 'Caw,' one of the Razor Crows flaps its wings and then flutters to a different branch.
Jeva shifts from foot to foot, impatient with the men, "So are you going in? Nobody lives there anymore."
Bowen swings his arm forward, "After you young one."
And hopes that his friends see the warning to them in his eyes.
Jeva looks at the men in amusement and then with a shrug she moves across the yard towards the hut.
"It's too big for me," she says, pointing to the heavy door, which leans against the door frame. It blocks the way into the hut and does look to be a little heavy for a young girl to easily move on her own.
What little of the hut that can be seen past the door does indeed look deserted.
Bowen sweeps a hand forward towards the door, "After you young lady, Tis rude to enter a house before the owner."
His eyes warn all the others there may still be danger.
Bowen hears nothing from within.
"Its not my house but I will go in as soon as you move the door out of the way," says the girl, somewhat petulantly.
Rall steps up now and looks at the door. He searches the door while trying to appear to be just observing it. "Off its hinges," he says "Maybe we can fix this for the owner before we leave."
Rall
The door appears to be just a door. The frame is rotted where the iron hinges on the door once connected. The door has not been moved in some time if the indentation it makes in the ground is any indication. The wood of the door touching the ground is covered with a black moss and the whole of the door appears slightly swollen with moisture.
Without indicating his intentions to either the girl or his partners, Rall quickly and wordlessly circles the building. He is looking for another entrance or anything else that jumps out at him ... hopefully not literally.
Rall
There are no other entrances, except perhaps for the shuttered windows on the east and west side of the mud hut. Behind the hut there is a partially collapsed wooden building, an outhouse perhaps.
Bowen watches Rall thinking he has an idea what the man is doing but says nothing just watching the house and waiting for the Okay to come before moving in.
Turns towards the girl, "I thought you said you lived here," he says with a confused look on his face.
The girl answers, her eyes following Rall as he walks around the house, "I only said I knew of a house where you could spend the night. I've never stayed here. It's too spooky a place. But you five are all so big and brave. I thought it would be safe with you."
"The day isn't getting any younger," complains Rall stepping over to the door and pulling it aside "Let's see what's in here!"
Inside the cottage all is dim, except for the little light streaming in through the door and the tiny shafts of light straining around the closed shutters. The air smells of mildew and rot.
Lining the walls are all manner of shelves, upon which rests jugs, bottles, rocks, herbs and an assortment of curios and knick-knacks.
A massive iron cauldron dominates the room. Its mouth is nearly five feet wide and it stands at least three feet tall. Shapes have been fashioned around its sides but it is impossible to make them out without more light.
Across the room on the other side of the cauldron is a high backed wicker chair. A shape sits in the chair. It looks like a wrapped corpse.
The girl peeks around the door frame curiously.
"Are there ghosts?" she asks quietly.
Inside the hut, nothing moves.
Balnar picks up the dagger and stows it in his belt, before moving to join the others in examining the hut.
Across the room on the other side of the cauldron is a high backed wicker chair. A shape sits in the chair. It looks like a wrapped corpse.
"Hello?" asks Rall.
'Wow. If this is another fleecer, she's got style.'
With a final sigh Bowen walks towards the hut and makes one last check before entering.
No one answers Rall's call.
"I told you that no one lived here," says the girl. But she waits for the men to enter before going in herself.
Rall begins to search the room, starting with the shape in the chair. He will not touch it with his hand at first but will give it a little kick instead.
The shape seems to be a dummy made of mud and straw, wrapped in bandages.
Rall kicks the shape in the chair and the cauldron jumps.
Rall begins to search the room, starting with the shape in the chair. He will not touch it with his hand at first but will give it a little kick instead.
Rall begins to search the room, starting with the shape in the chair. He will not touch it with his hand at first but will give it a little kick instead.
With a jump of surprise Bowen draws his scimitar. After looking around he lowers it a little rather sheepishly. "If this is the 'wise' woman's hut then may'haps the item we need be in here as well... Otherwise we are in a bad sort of way."
"Whomever did live here was a practicioner of both herbology and witchcraft," says Turnipin, looking at several of the items on the shelves.
He mutters a few words and waves his hands. Several spots along the counter begin to glow. The brightest glow comes from a shrunken head on a leather cord hanging besides a shuttered window.
"That is magical," says Turnipin and he moves over to examine it closer. As his fingers brush it, several things happen all at once.
The stitched eyes of the shrunken head open and in a dry voice it intones, "NO TOUCHING!"
The Cauldron lurches, shakes itself like some sort of iron dog, and then leaps at the gnome. It suddenly resembles some ball like beast with a huge gaping mouth. This mouth bites down at the gnome, engulfing him.
Turnipin has enough time to cry out once and then he is upside down in the cauldron, being masticated by huge iron lips.
Rall is too surprised to react in a timely fashion: Initiative -- 1d20+1=8
Death in the Pot - Round 1
Bowen - Initiative: 18
The Cauldron (currently eating a gnome) - Initiative: 14
Balnar - Initiative: 10
Rall (a little distracted) - Initiative: 8
Fee (a lot distracted) - Initiative: ?
Balnar all but roars with laughter at the absurdity of the challenge before him.
"Need an airhole my friend?" Balnar chuckles as he takes a good hard swing at the gluttonous pot.