"One can dream," sighed Meili at Ran’s remark. She adjusted her cloak at least somewhat protecting herself from the rain.

"So... Are we searching for that lovely ditch or pushing forward while it's still dark and raining snakes?" She looked at the group's magicians - old and new. "Do we still have some "serious magic" to get through the palisade?" 

Ran looks at the magic users and then over to Meili.

"The ditch and a night of not being attacked is what I need before storming whatever they've got set up." Ran says, looking down at the cuts and bruises covering his exposed skin.

Eryndor adjusts the strap of his lute, stepping forward with the easy confidence of a man who rarely found himself without options.

"A ditch, dear friends? My, how thou dost set the bar high for comfort!" He sighs dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart. "Fortune smiles upon thee, for I am a minstrel of many talents, and—should we find but a moment's respite—I can summon us shelter more fitting than a bed of sodden earth."

His sharp green eyes sweep the ruins, gauging the terrain with the practiced air of one who had been forced to make a home where no home should be. "Find us a place somewhat removed from prying eyes, where the ground is firm and the sky does not spill so freely upon our heads. Grant me but a minute's time, and I shall weave us a haven of my own design—a space untouched by the storm, where we may rest, tend our wounds, and discuss how best to slip past yonder palisade without ending our tale too soon."

He grins, already considering their next challenge. "For if we are to scale walls or unravel wards, ‘twould be best to know what hands we hold ere we place our bets, aye?"

Mica looks north and sighs “That tears it. We’re too late, and on the wrong side of the bloody ruins. Might be that curse ended when they won whatever happened down there.”  Mica looks over at the Captain and Nalomanterys. “Whatever happened, I’m not sure the Red Wizards coming out on top is a good thing.”

He turns to  Ran “We probably should have asked him about your missing lad. I wager he may turn up at the northern camp.”

He shoulders his pack and starts to move out. “Forget the ditch.  We can likely find some ruins to spend the day in, get ready to move when it gets dark again.”

Meili breathed in slowly and exhaled - the ribs seemed to be unbroken, just bruised. “Ruins do sound better than a ditch,” she admitted, pulling her cloak tighter.

She glanced at Eryndor generously offering comfort in the middle of a small apocalypses. "If your haven keeps out the rain and the snakes, I won’t complain." The thought of resting somewhere dry - even if it was conjured with magic - was tempting enough that she wasn’t about to question it. 

"Whatever is happening down there should still be happening - otherwise there would be no more mercenaries outside. I think we can afford a break and decide what to do. How about returning to the golem pit? Or maybe the closest cube shrine?" 

Ran nods agreement and starts making the way back to the golem shrine.

”Let’s stay out of the pit this time.”

Eryndor follows with practiced ease, his sharp gaze scanning the ruins. "A fine plan," he muses, adjusting his lute. "And fear not—I shall keep rain, snakes, and ill omens at bay."  

His steps remain light, ever mindful, as he strides toward the shrine alongside his newfound companions.

OOC ***DM - can I get a description of the golem shrine as we approach as well as the area where we are to camp - then I will describe how I lay out the ritual for Tiny Hut***

The party backtracks through the downpour to the shrine where they fought the clay golems.

Eryndor sees a ruined, domed building at the heart of this compound, surrounded by a mostly collapsed wall.  Tall monoliths flank the entrance, decorated with images of a jaguar with six snakes sprouting from its shoulders. 

Inside, steps lead down to a wide stone chamber.    A pit covered with a grate takes up the center of the room.

[For maps of this location, see:

• Interior - page 141 post 2811
• Exterior - page 137 post 2724]

It doesn't look like it has been disturbed since you were here last.  

Ran nudges Eryndor when they arrive at the shrine.

"Don't go down those stairs, mate," Ran says, pointing at the stairs that lead down. "They've a bit of a golem problem down there."

Eryndor glances at the stairs, arching a brow at Ran’s warning. "Ah, golems. Most uncharitable hosts, I find." He offers a wry smirk before turning his gaze to the far corner of the chamber, evaluating the space with practiced scrutiny.

"Tell me, then—wouldst thou grant me but a minute’s peace in yonder space?" He gestures to the northeast corner, his tone light yet purposeful. "A mere moment to weave a ward against this jungle’s many miseries, and we shall have ourselves a respite most welcome."

If the group agrees, he motions for them to gather within the designated space before beginning his quiet work. With measured steps, he traces a slow path around them. He sweeps his hand across the skin of his drum, brushing like sand in lazy, swirling patterns, his voice rising in a low, rhythmic murmur. Each step is deliberate, each motion purposeful, as if coaxing unseen forces into alignment. He carefully ensures a clear circular path can surround his companions.

His chant swells as he completes the circuit, his fingertips still tracing unseen spirals on the drum skin. At last, he steps into the center of the circle, lowering himself gracefully amid his companions. His hand moves faster now, the swirling motion sharpening, his voice cresting in a final crescendo.

Then—rap!—his palm strikes the center of the drum.

A golden shimmer ripples outward, a delicate weave of light forming a dome above them before vanishing into the air. The air within the circle turns dry and warm, the jungle’s oppressive dampness held at bay by the magic’s embrace. There is also a soft ambient light within.

Eryndor exhales, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. "And thus, my friends, a perilous place becomes a sanctuary. Rest easy, for the night’s fangs shall not pierce this haven."

((From outside, the dome is opaque, colored to match the stone of the shrine around them))

Ran nods his approval, tells the bird to keep quiet, and drops off to sleep almost immediately.

As the party steps back into the shrine, this site of their earlier battles now feels like a refuge. Tonight, it is theirs alone.  The flickering torchlight reveals the worn carvings of the jaguar goddess, her feline form poised in eternal vigilance.

The party shuts the heavy door to the shrine.  Eryndor casts his ritual and the party gathers within his magical barricade.  The rain continues to pound the ruins outside, but within the protective barrier, all is still and warm.  For the first time in weeks, they feel truly secure.  No stalking yuan-ti, no relentless undead, no mercenary threats can find them.  Just the steady patter of rain against stone, the distant rumble of thunder rolling through the valley.

For the first time in too long, they can sleep without fear.

The shrine is quiet, save for the steady rhythm of rain drumming against the stone outside and the distant rumble of thunder retreating deeper into the jungle.  Inside the shimmering dome of Eryndor’s Tiny Hut, the party sleeps in peaceful, well-earned respite.  Their wounds ache but are healing, their minds finally at ease, if only for a night.

Then at some point late into the night—scratching.

At first, it is faint, barely distinguishable from the storm’s dying breath.  A light rasping at the heavy stone doors.  Then a tug.  Another.  A scrape of claws against the surface, followed by a sudden, forceful wrench—and the door swings open, the sound of the storm suddenly intensifying.

A flash of lightning splits the sky, illuminating the now-gaping entrance, but nothing stands there.  Only the rain, and mist curling like spectral fingers across the floor.

Then, movement.  A sleek, reptilian head tilts into view, its yellow eyes gleaming in the dim light.  A dinosaur.  A familiar one, for those who attended the pit-fighting in Port Nyanzaru so long ago.  Two-legged and nearly 5 feet tall with curved teeth and sharp talons on its hands and feet - including wicked six inch claws on each foot.  Deinonychus.  Olive, grey and black feathers create a camouflage pattern across its flanks.  It steps forward cautiously, nostrils flaring as it sniffs the air, its long tail flicking behind it for balance.  After it enters the shrine it looks behind it, and others follow in eerie silence—first one, then another, until five of the creatures have slinked inside, their sickle-claws clicking softly on the wet stone.

Within the hut’s unseen barrier, those awake remain still.  The deinonychuses prowl around the chamber, their heads darting left and right, jaws slightly agape as they taste the air.  They are hunters.  They have followed a scent here, but now, they are uncertain.

One of them pauses near the ancient carvings of Shagambi, tilting its head, as if listening.  Another stalks toward the far side of the room, peering into the shadowed recesses where once-deadly poison vents lie dormant.  It lowers its snout to sniff—

Then recoils violently, letting out a harsh, barking cry.

Instantly, the others snap to attention, muscles tensing, heads whipping toward their startled packmate.  For a long, breathless moment, they remain frozen, listening and looking at one another.  Then, as one, they bolt, their claws scrabbling against stone as they whirl and dart out of the shrine.  Within seconds, they are gone, vanished into the night.

Silence returns, save for the rain.

The party is able to exhale.  Even the scarlet bird seems to sigh in relief.  Whatever scent they carried, whatever instinct had drawn the raptors here, it was not enough to keep them.  The shrine is theirs once more.

By dawn, the storm has broken.  Sunlight filters through the mist, and outside, the jungle begins to steam under the oppressive heat of the Chultan morning.  The floor of the shrine is wet, scattered with puddles left by the storm, but within the Tiny Hut, all is dry.  Safe.  They have survived another night.

You may all take a LONG REST.

Ran's eyes don't open until morning.

"I think I dreamt about some of those dinos you keep looking for," Ran says to Mica. "Right in here with us."

He quickly packs his gear, shares some dried rations with the bird, admonishing her not to take so much, and gets ready to head out.

"That was the first decent kip I've had in this bloody jungle." Ran says as thanks to Eryndor. Then he asks the others."North to check out this palisade then?"

At Ran’s suggestion, Eryndor taps a thoughtful rhythm against the side of his drum. "North, aye, but let us not rush headlong into a tale that ends poorly. Before we stand before yonder palisade, might we first consider what gifts we hold?"

He lifts a hand, fingers tracing idle patterns in the air. "I, for one, have at my disposal the means to vanish from sight, should the need arise. A quick flight, unseen, might reveal the lay of the land beyond the walls." He lets the thought linger before adding, "And should we choose to strike, I can weave strength into thy limbs, sharpen thy senses, and bless our cause with fortune most fair."

His gaze sweeps the group, his usual levity tempered by careful calculation. "So, tell me, friends—what tricks dost thou carry in thy pockets? Best we lay our cards upon the table ere we wager our skins."

Ran watches Eryndor for a few moments as he speaks and then nods with a smile.

"What you see is what you get, mate," Ran says, holding his arms out and turning around in a circle. "I'm decent with swords, and pretty much anything else you can use to kill someone. And I like to think I'm hard to kill. At least so far."

He pulls out Gambit and lets its blade catch the light. He turns the longsword over a few times.

"Found this along the way in this grotty jungle," Ran says. "Blade cuts pretty well."

Ran puts the sword back in its scabbard.

Indeed, Meili could not remember the last time the group had slept with both eyes closed, so to speak. No need to mention, her respect for the newcomer had grown exponentially through the night - especially after the dinosaur invasion. Once it became clear the magic was holding, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and returned to sleep.

Now, with dawn filtering through the mist, she sat cross-legged near the wall, watching the morning steam rise from the jungle floor and fully enjoying a rare moment of peace. Eryndor’s suggestion to share their strengths made her smirk inwardly, but his point was sound.

"I can climb, move quietly when it’s needed. And I know how to hit hard enough to drop someone quickly." She rested her hand briefly over the healer’s kit at her belt. "If things go wrong, I can help keep us on our feet. To a degree. Or make the enemy suffer a bit more."

She tugged her cloak into place and squinted at the rising sun. "North, then," she agreed. "Looks like we’ll all get a chance to brush up on our climbing skills."

Mica grins at Ran “Eh, those were babies.  Hardly bigger than we are, but they are wicked little hunters, good thing they didn’t find us.”  He turns to Eryndor “That was a pretty neat trick.”

He squats down and starts packing up his gear. He cocks his head as he considers the question. “Gifts? I don’t know about gifts or tricks, but I can get along pretty well in the jungle, can help us move quietly, track things that need tracking and do a fair bit of scouting. Like to think I can hold my own in a fight if it comes to that.”  

He stands and shoulders his pack. “Ready when you all are. With any luck, they are all focused on what’s going on down below and we can slip in.”

Eryndor sighs, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Ah, subtlety—ever the privilege of the few." He glances at Mica, then back to the others, spreading his hands in mock surrender. "Very well, let us walk boldly into the unknown and see what fate weaves for us. Mayhap the palisade holds a weakness yet unseen, a moment of fortune waiting to be seized. If not…" He smirks. "Well, ‘tis nothing a little magic and mischief cannot remedy."

Ran claps Eryndor on the shoulder as he moves out into the ruined city.

"Threatening to burn walls down has been known to work too," Ran says.

As Ran moves off, he keeps his eyes moving, expecting that something rather than someone will ambush them at some point in the day.

As the party steps out into the morning light, you see against the clear blue sky that one of the airships is hovering high above the middle of the city.  The other, just visible in the distance, is docked against the northern wall of the crater in which the city sits.

Just to your west, there is a massive stone structure, a bit like a wide wall, with steps up and down at regular intervals.  It runs north and south, nearly the entire length of the city, and the top is largely free of plants and debris.  Climbing this structure, the party could move quickly north, but you would have no cover if anyone is watching from the airship.  

Otherwise, the party could elect to stay at ground level and pick their way quietly through the vine wrapped ruins of the this abandoned settlement.  They would be concealed from above, but it would certainly take longer and there is no telling what dangers might lurk in the shadows.