Shortly after relaying the updated information the old man gave her and Rastrin in her notebook, Shay has very little wait time until she gets a response.
‘It appears not all of your sources are secure, that’s to be expected from time to time. Any traveler who puts blind trust in the first thing they hear without first verifying proper facts has no business acting on behalf of anyone. Remain vigilant- always. Look into those unknown creatures as well, there could be more going on with them than you realize at this moment.
-Anya’
Shay shuts her notebook, and mulls over what Miss Samitha said for a beat along with Anya’s apparent trust in her, seeing an opportunity arising. “Rastrin, I never answered you when we returned in here from outside. I’ve been told I’m a decent tracker in the past, and while I personally think I have room for improvement, it couldn’t hurt to try, right? Maybe we could get some clues about what these things are and discover how to proceed from there. What do you think?”
She sees Harold as he takes everything in from where he is, fairly sure he has more to say than he lets on. ‘I’ll ask his thoughts on things next I suppose, it’s always best to check in with everyone.’
The dragonborn’s distracted humming cuts off at Shay’s question. He shrugs, feeling slightly chagrined. “It probably would hurt to do a bit of sleuthing about. The worst thing that could happen is that we don’t find anything, so why not?”
Looking about at the seasoned men and woman at the table, he shrinks back slightly. “I probably won’t be much help finding clues or anything, but I can at least provide some light.”
The hugest changes were the ones that could not be seen -- that's where the real apocalypse lay: in people's hearts, their souls, their beings.
—Dianna Hardy
10 Mirtul
A dreamlike veil of mist hangs over the Dessarin River this morning, and wildflowers and bright yellow narcissus punctuate the riverbank’s dewy grasses, sparkling cheerfully as a warm, sensuous breeze from the south embraces you, then like a capricious lover departs to caress your neighbor, making the rounds so to speak.
It feels like a summer morning from childhood, people of Veszprem with a sentimental bent might say. Others will frown and add another notch to the post upon which they keep their count of recent strange weather days: 10th of Mirtul - unseasonably warm.
As you cross the vertiginous heights of the Stone Bridge, its subtle arc carrying you two hundred feet above the river’s rippling surface, the mist and haze pierced by strobing silver reflections, you note that the structure under your feet is, like poured concrete, magically firm, and without supporting arches, without buttresses, and without high suspension cables like a drawbridge might possess, still stands impossibly immobile and, you know, has withstood a thousand windstorms, flooding, and even earthquakes without ever having shifted even a single degree from its original position.
Some find it exhilarating, others terrifying, and yet others, neither, for some pass over the bridge every day and its magic, to them, is as mundane as dust.
As the party makes its way across, however, getting to the other side — like the proverbial chicken — is not the goal, or at least, not the only goal, but so far is the only goal within reach. For in the area surrounding the gently sloping entry ramp on the eastern side, no one was able to discern any clues relating to the passage of a large group of persons or beasts, whoever and whatever they might have been. Too much time has passed.
And so, across the bridge to the western bank of the Dessarin you head, knowing that the Sturgeon, its crew and complement of Yartarin guardsmen rowing through the mist, will meet you there in a few minutes, once you’ve had time to explore the western bridge landing.
Rastrin scowls at the mist suffusing the morning air about them as he and several others make their way across the magnificent stone arch. He wasn't a fan of fog; it was cold, wet, and hid things from sight. He was half-tempted to light a fire and carry it with his hands in an attempt to ward away the fog and give some warmth, but he decides against. He didn't want to accidentally end up starting a fire he couldn't control. So instead, he just crosses his arms and scowls at the moisture hanging in the air. At least he wasn't down in the boat; he was sure the fog was exponentially worse down there.
Even though he was eager to get to the other side and hopefully out of fog, he couldn't help but admire the masterful craftsmanship of the bridge, even if it was crafted by magic. Those dwarves who created the bridge definitely knew what they were doing. Thinking about the bridge and admiring its quality distracted him a bit from the dreary mist, and eventually starts humming quietly to himself as thoughts of the mist slip from his mind.
Shay does what she can to steady herself as she and the others pass over the Stone Bridge and walk far above clouds of mist hovering over the river down below. She'd chanced a single peek to take the view in as they began their trip to the other side and nearly became rooted to the spot, never having been a fan of high places despite the occasion. It helps to concentrate on the people immediately in front of her while keeping occupied by reminding herself that they were currently crossing one of the most incredible pieces of history available to them, magical or otherwise.
Shay keeps her eyes open for any clues as to the whereabouts of tracks or droppings left by the mysterious creatures the old man had spoken of last night as they slowly approach the eastern ramp, but is disappointed to see nothing of note standing out. Too much time must have passed. When the time does come to discover more about these things, Shay only hopes that they aren't as menacing as the old man had made them sound. With the western bank coming up, Shay hopes her relief isn't too visible, but unintentionally speeds up in her walking regardless, very ready to be back on ground she could feel safer standing on.
Before stepping out into the mists, Harold checks to make sure that his beard and hair are presentable. After a carefully inspecting his appearance, he checks his gear and pulls out a hooded lantern from his bag. Once the lantern is lit, he steps out into the damp mist. He clutches his chest with his free hand in an attempt to keep in any warmth as the cool air sends a chill down his spine. Harold stays close to the center of the bridge as they make their way across the arch, choosing not to venture close to the edge. Attaching his lantern to his belt, he would slip his hand into his shirt and pull out a few pieces of well seasoned meat. Taking a bite, he would look to his companions and extend his hand towards their direction. "Want a bite? I cured it myself. A bit of a hobby of mine" Harold says with a grin before taking another bite.
All the while he keeps his eyes peeled on his surroundings. He didn't enjoy being on the bridge... it made him feel trapped in the same way being on the boat did.
As they near the western bank, Shay declines Harold’s offer, not caring for eating meat based on strong principles she holds as a long time lover of nature and its inhabitants. She does have to admit even quietly to herself that it almost looks good in a distantly admirable sort of way. Her father would’ve likely happily obliged him, having no problem enjoying fine food regardless of what it was and she tells Harold as much with a laugh. Once on the other side and finally free of the confines of the Stone Bridge, Shay sets to work her plan to search around for any sign of those unknown creatures, figuring she’d know them when she saw them.
She checks over the main pathway with a keen eye, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, similar to their passing to get there. Time goes on as she hears small conversations taking place around her from her new traveling companions, careful not to leave them too far behind in her hunt for clues. Eventually, she comes upon many huge foreign tracks that while less prominent than more human or wheeled ones, stand out all the same.
She goes down into a crouching position to further examine them, deciding very quickly that the best way to determine just what they were is by using magic. Closing her eyes to better concentrate on the current of power residing within her, Shay hovers her hand palm down over the nearest of the tracks and focuses. Those watching would see a soft glow of purple light coming both from her palm and the tracks directly beneath it as she casts her spell.
In her mind Shay is shown a visual of several large insectoid beasts clambering jerkily around as their massive antennae flit from one point of interest to another. Though it lasts for only a moment, Shay shivers at the disgusting imagery as if the things- or more accurately their hideously fierce mandibles- had been mere inches from her face. She turns to those closest to her and explains in detail what she’d seen, though she doesn’t believe she does the sight proper justice.
“They were these massive, spiked, insect type…things that I’m not familiar with. Why anyone would get close enough to touch them or want to ride them at all is a mystery to me.” She addresses Marcos and Miss Samitha directly now, “I couldn’t tell you what they’re called, I’m sorry. But I can ask one of my faction leaders for more details if one of you believes it’s important enough.”
Rastrin grimaces at the description of the creatures Shay describes. He's not quite sure how she was able ascertain the creatures' looks from just their footprints, but he wasn't surprised that she could do something like that. The people he traveled with were obviously very talented. He had never seen anything like the things Shay described, but they didn't sound very pleasant. Hopefully they wouldn't run into them.
Marcos had been in conversation with the Sturgeon’s captain, Ede Dorka, who stood gracefully erect with one hand on the pommel of his rapier, having introduced Marcos to the friend of his whom he’d mentioned the prior day. But when Shay approaches with a new revelation about creatures that had passed on the road, Marcos stiffly nods to Dorka’s friend, and the pair, Dorka and his friend, stand apart to speak privately.
Shay: “I couldn’t tell you what they’re called, I’m sorry. But I can ask one of my faction leaders for more details if one of you believes it’s important enough.”
“Well?,” Marcos asks Miss Samitha, and she responds in her usual efficient manner, arms crossed behind her formally.
“Mister Varixx, you ask my opinion. I believe that the most important fact is that neither of our trackers have discovered the passage of the missing delegation, and according to Captain Dorka’s personal friend, no one in Holoko saw them either. So, we do not know if they ever reached the Stone Bridge." She looks at Shay. "So even though it is surprising to hear of the passage of these creatures, I don't know if the tracks are related to the delegation or not. Yet."
Marcos’ brow is knit in thought. “Shay,” he starts up again after a moment, “I think it is your decision. If there is nothing to lose, then even though the information might end up being irrelevant, it could also end up being of importance. But whatever you decide, we still have found no sign of the delegation. We must turn southwest on the Larch Path, and pick up their trail north of Red Larch where Aniko passed them.” He turns to Harold and Rastrin. “Unless you have anything to add?”
The dragonborn squirms a bit as many pairs of eyes within the group settle upon him and Harold. He had been humming quietly to himself while the others conversed, but he quickly ends the tune as Marcos directs a question towards him and Harold. "Um," he hesitantly starts. "The fellow we talked to last night said that there were people riding the things Shay described, and I don't know of anyone that rides around spiky bugs for fun." He shrugs. "It could be worth looking into."
"It sounds like your father and I could be good friends." Harold replies with a smile. "You know, I don't think I ever understood why so many druid types refuse to eat meat. I suspect that in nature, there are almost as many creatures that eat other animals as there are creatures that eat plants... seems like if you were really concerned about balance, you would eat both plants and animals right?" He asks as he raises an eyebrow before smiling and giving Shay a pat on the arm. "I'm just joking around with you Shay. I like to cook and so maybe the first meal I make on this adventure of ours will be a hardy vegetable stew if you wish." The merchant replies with a grin.
He pauses when Shay goes quiet and begins investigating the road. He stands by and examines the same markings but they don't mean anything to him. Hearing the description of the beast causes a look of concern to spread across his face. he strokes his beard as he considers what he may have gotten himself into.
When Marcus asks for his input, Harold clears his throat and replies. "Marcus, I consider myself a set of tools with many uses... uses that will help us in our quest to find the caravan. That being said... that set of tools does not include a compass. So I will defer to the groups judgment on where to go next."
Listening carefully to the input of both Rastrin and Harold when they speak to Marcos, as well as Marcos himself, it becomes clear that all involved prefer to let the choice rest with her. While she isn’t keen on wasting precious time by asking questions not directly related to the missing delegation, not saying anything at all would only nag at her in the following days after. Leaving any course of action unfinished, regardless of how big or small, felt to her the same way ignoring an pestering itch did- distracting in the worst of ways.
She was glad things worked out the way they had so she didn’t have to deal with the mental incompleteness of not knowing something. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to ask then.” Shay walks off a way to take her notebook out and once again describe what she saw in as vivid detail as she could manage. This time, the response is quick, coming from Norrin judging from the hasty handwriting he was known for.
‘That sounds like a group of Ankhegs. Burrower creatures mainly known for grappling their victims in their hooked end legs along with their vicious acid spray. Their spray reach goes quite far, avoid them entirely if possible. From the sound of things it would also be wise to avoid their riders. No sane individuals would mount such destructive creatures like they were mere horses.’
Shay jots back a hasty thanks in response and returns to the group with her update, hoping as she talks that this new information won’t prove to be needed any time in the near future. “My faction leader also said it would be best to avoid the riders too, he doesn’t think they’re well. I’m sorry if this wasted any time, maybe we can keep an eye out for what to avoid now if nothing else.” She gives the tracks another once over and does her best to commit them to memory, just as a precaution. While she dearly loves all of nature’s creatures even she has to admit as far as Ankhegs went, it was more of a distance tolerance .
Shay: “My faction leader also said it would be best to avoid the riders too, he doesn’t think they’re well. I’m sorry if this wasted any time, maybe we can keep an eye out for what to avoid now if nothing else.”
Marcus nods at this advice appreciatively. “Not well, eh? If they’ve done any harm to the cohort from Waterdeep, I’ll see to it that they’re unwell for certain. Miss Samitha, and Harold. Let us see to the unloading of Mr. Goldweaver’s cart – I notice your smart percheron has debarked already,” he adds, to Harold. “A fine draft horse, and I’m glad, for a carriage pulled by an easily frightened horse would not have suited the journey.” He turns back to his steward and, apparently, lieutenant. “As soon as that’s done, we head south, into the Sumber Hills. Miss Samitha?”
“I’ll inform the guard,” she crisply responds, and in a moment has already turned on her heel to execute those tasks.
* * *
It is now afternoon. After heading west on the Stone Trail for several miles, passing a noble’s coach heading to Beliard from Westbridge, a lone rider carrying mail on a fast horse, and several farmers on carts, you reached the place where the Larch Path intersects the Stone Trail and there turned southwest into the Sumber Hills, covered in brown grasses and sedge. Here and there, small copses of trees and thickets break up the browns and ambers, and although you see no large beasts, you can be sure the hills are teeming with small wildlife – snakes, field mice, and the like – for turkey vultures and crows fly overhead, drifting upon high thermals, diving down when they spy something to eat.
Craggy and curved, the Larch path skirts steep inclines, but is almost always on or under one of the thousand hillocks and tall, softly rolling hills of these lands. Although you meet no one upon the path, there is ample evidence of the passage of traffic: wagon ruts and mule droppings prove that people come this way on a regular basis.
The sun now hangs over the western horizon and you’ve covered almost twenty miles with no sign at all of the missing delegation, although Shay has noticed the passage of ankhegs in several places along the way, when you spot a cloud of ravens and vultures – dozens – circling a mile or so west of the trail.
As the day continues on, Rastrin found that he had a lot of time to get lost in his own little world of thoughts. He definitely hadn't thought that his week would turn out being this way when it first started, and yet, here he was with a bunch of strangers all looking for some missing important folks from Waterdeep. He would've never assumed that he would find himself in midst of such a group, but life was full of surprises.
For the first few hours of walking, he mostly keeps to himself, humming to himself as he drank in the beauty of the beautiful landscape they trekked through. He would occasionally snatch a stick or small dead branch from near the trail as they walked. Once he had found such an item, he would hum contentedly as he began burning the stick just by merely touching it. He could ignite objects with a mere brush of a hand, and when he was younger, that had caused several problems. He used to be terrified of fire, but now, he found watching the thin shaft of wood smoking and crackling enjoyable, veins of red heat pulsing and spreading throughout the branch. Soon, his hands were stained with ash and soot, but he didn't mind. They had been his companions for a long time now.
During one of his branch-burning sessions, he attempts to strike up conversation with Harold. The bearded man was rather congenial, and Rastrin felt like he was easily the most approachable of the disciplined group. While not much of conversationalist himself, Rastrin is easily able to carry a conversation. Once he a bit of time to get used to others, Rastrin was actually quite friendly and cheery; it just took him a while to warm up. Soon, he found himself chatting with others as well. After that, the hours seemed to fly by, though he still managed to reduce several branches and twigs to ash throughout the day.
Near evening, he found himself laughing along with several others at a joke told by one of the warriors. Grinning and still chuckling, he takes a moment to look out over the valley. The setting sun shed golden light upon the rolling hills of the valley, creating a beautiful vista before them. While enjoying the warmth of the setting sun, his smile fades slightly when he notices the circling vultures not too far from the trail. He didn't need Shay to tell him that circling vultures meant there was something dead over. Could that maybe be the caravan they were supposed to find? He doubted it; the caravan sounded like it would be too well defended to simply just be killed on the side of the road, but there were a lot of the carrion birds over that directoin. Still probably worth checking it out though, even if it was just some unfortunate animal that met its demise at the hand of a predator.
"There's a bunch of vultures over that way," he points out. "Too many for just a single dead animal, but I could be wrong." He glances towards Shay as he says that. She was the expert on animals supposedly, so she should definitely know more about vultures than he did.
As they carry on into the afternoon on the Stone Trail, Shay opts to observe her companions in a comfortable silence. She notices as Rastrin in particular strikes up many small conversations, starting with Harold, and slowly makes his way to talk to several of the others also journeying with them, though many of their names escape her. As he begins burning small twigs and leaves in his hands, Shay turns her attention to the sightings of quite a few Ankheg markings indicating that the odd group Norrin warned them about passed through at some point well before them.
While the talking persists, Shay allows the casual flow of chatter to act as calming background noise as her eyes drift skyward. She watches several clouds floating above listlessly and quickly spots ravens and vultures circling over a spot further along the trail. Rastrin’s voice gets her attention as his words are now directed her way. “There’s a bunch of vultures over that way. Too many for a single dead animal, but I could be wrong.”
Shay feels her brows furrow, uncertain if a single dead animal could cause so much of a turnout of scavengers as well. “I think you might be right. If the land were in bad shape and the grounded animals scarcer overall I’d understand the reason for such large numbers, but this isn’t making much sense right now.” She shakes her head in slight confusion, and takes a short moment to mentally prepare herself for what would likely be an unpleasant sight coming up.
”Animals only behave strangely when something is wrong, and it typically tends to start with birds.”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Harold
Harold was happy to engage in conversation with the hulking dragonborn, offering him some home cured meat as they made their way down the road. Harold would ask Rastrin about where he came from and about any particular skills he possessed. Aside from being very large and abnormally hot, the merchant didn't know anything about the dragonborn... outside of his control over flame.
The merchant would look towards the sky, holding his hand above his eyes to shield himself from the sunlight. "Well... we may have found our caravan." Harold would say flatly, his face still and serious. "Suppose there is only one way to find out. I would hope that if the delegation is dead that perhaps their cargo is still intact... but I can hardly believe that someone might attack a caravan and then leave the goods behind." Harold's eyes narrow and he slowly draws a pair of short swords from his waist. Clutching them firmly, he holds them at his sides. The weapons are simple but well made, seeming to lack some of the flair that the rest of his outfit possesses. "I think we need to investigate... I would be ready for anything... and try to be quiet in case we are not the only ones searching for the caravan..." harold whispers as begins to move off the road and into the brush nearby.
When Harold draws his blades, Marcos seems to read his intention. “Vaszil. Wit.” He points at Harold with his chin. In moments, two bowmen join Harold. The pair have spent most of the day traveling a hundred yards or two hundred yards ahead of the rest of the group, and seem to have keen eyes and light feet. Without a word, they match Harold’s pace and, one to either side of him ten or twenty paces, move forward with hardly a sound – just as Harold does – toward the circling birds.
There is hardly any brush here. Thickets and trees are few and far between. Wending through the dells and not over the hilltops is the best one can manage between where Harold, Vaszil and Wit are now and where they want to go.
Twenty minutes later, a mile or so off the Larch Path, the sun now hanging low over the western horizon and spraying pink and orange across the clouds hanging in the west, Harold stoops, hidden among a line of dogwoods surrounding a wide elm — with Vaszil and Wit similarly esconced nearby — and the merchant looks down into a small dell over which the birds continue to circle. There he finds the remains of a battle. A score of bodies, several horses, all dead. A vulture perched on one of them leans over, pecks, comes back with a strand of tendon.
Lying nearby, two abandoned wagons and a fine carriage, the latter smashed in half like a discarded egg shell.
The ground looks very rough.
From here, two hundred yards above, no more details are apparent. You wait five minutes, ten. Nothing happens. Vaszil and Wit seem content with this much information, and Wit turns to Harold from the far end of the elm’s ranging boughs, cocking his head back in the direction the three had come, suggesting a return to the company. He awaits Harold’s response.
"It looks like we have found the caravan" Harold whispers under his breath to the scouts accompanying him. He hated being so exposed and felt as though his approach would have been noticed by anyone watching over the remains of the battle. The fact that a vulture was still here eating at least caused him to believe that they were at least partially successful in approaching unseen. "Yes, let's go back and tell the others. It appears to be safe to approach... nothing but dead bodies here." Harold replies before slinking off back towards the group. On his return trip, he is considerably less concerned with being stealthy as he goes to return his findings.
When he arrives back to the others, he looks to Marcus and shakes his head. "That's our caravan alright. Looks like the lot of them were slaughtered and left to rot. We didn't search through the remains but I would recommend so do so." He says in a low and serious tone. "They may have left behind clues or valuable items behind that we could recover for our patron." The merchant says... his words heavy. "So now what? After examining the remains to we return and update the RIver Master? Or do we try to recover what was stolen and deliver the goods that were likely stolen?" Harold asks looking from Marcus to Shay and then to Rastin...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
SHAY
Shortly after relaying the updated information the old man gave her and Rastrin in her notebook, Shay has very little wait time until she gets a response.
‘It appears not all of your sources are secure, that’s to be expected from time to time. Any traveler who puts blind trust in the first thing they hear without first verifying proper facts has no business acting on behalf of anyone. Remain vigilant- always. Look into those unknown creatures as well, there could be more going on with them than you realize at this moment.
-Anya’
Shay shuts her notebook, and mulls over what Miss Samitha said for a beat along with Anya’s apparent trust in her, seeing an opportunity arising. “Rastrin, I never answered you when we returned in here from outside. I’ve been told I’m a decent tracker in the past, and while I personally think I have room for improvement, it couldn’t hurt to try, right? Maybe we could get some clues about what these things are and discover how to proceed from there. What do you think?”
She sees Harold as he takes everything in from where he is, fairly sure he has more to say than he lets on. ‘I’ll ask his thoughts on things next I suppose, it’s always best to check in with everyone.’
RASTRIN
The dragonborn’s distracted humming cuts off at Shay’s question. He shrugs, feeling slightly chagrined. “It probably would hurt to do a bit of sleuthing about. The worst thing that could happen is that we don’t find anything, so why not?”
Looking about at the seasoned men and woman at the table, he shrinks back slightly. “I probably won’t be much help finding clues or anything, but I can at least provide some light.”
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
Chapter 3 - Across the Stone Bridge
The hugest changes were the ones that could not be seen -- that's where the real apocalypse lay: in people's hearts, their souls, their beings.
—Dianna Hardy
10 Mirtul
A dreamlike veil of mist hangs over the Dessarin River this morning, and wildflowers and bright yellow narcissus punctuate the riverbank’s dewy grasses, sparkling cheerfully as a warm, sensuous breeze from the south embraces you, then like a capricious lover departs to caress your neighbor, making the rounds so to speak.
It feels like a summer morning from childhood, people of Veszprem with a sentimental bent might say. Others will frown and add another notch to the post upon which they keep their count of recent strange weather days: 10th of Mirtul - unseasonably warm.
As you cross the vertiginous heights of the Stone Bridge, its subtle arc carrying you two hundred feet above the river’s rippling surface, the mist and haze pierced by strobing silver reflections, you note that the structure under your feet is, like poured concrete, magically firm, and without supporting arches, without buttresses, and without high suspension cables like a drawbridge might possess, still stands impossibly immobile and, you know, has withstood a thousand windstorms, flooding, and even earthquakes without ever having shifted even a single degree from its original position.
Some find it exhilarating, others terrifying, and yet others, neither, for some pass over the bridge every day and its magic, to them, is as mundane as dust.
As the party makes its way across, however, getting to the other side — like the proverbial chicken — is not the goal, or at least, not the only goal, but so far is the only goal within reach. For in the area surrounding the gently sloping entry ramp on the eastern side, no one was able to discern any clues relating to the passage of a large group of persons or beasts, whoever and whatever they might have been. Too much time has passed.
And so, across the bridge to the western bank of the Dessarin you head, knowing that the Sturgeon, its crew and complement of Yartarin guardsmen rowing through the mist, will meet you there in a few minutes, once you’ve had time to explore the western bridge landing.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
RASTRIN
Rastrin scowls at the mist suffusing the morning air about them as he and several others make their way across the magnificent stone arch. He wasn't a fan of fog; it was cold, wet, and hid things from sight. He was half-tempted to light a fire and carry it with his hands in an attempt to ward away the fog and give some warmth, but he decides against. He didn't want to accidentally end up starting a fire he couldn't control. So instead, he just crosses his arms and scowls at the moisture hanging in the air. At least he wasn't down in the boat; he was sure the fog was exponentially worse down there.
Even though he was eager to get to the other side and hopefully out of fog, he couldn't help but admire the masterful craftsmanship of the bridge, even if it was crafted by magic. Those dwarves who created the bridge definitely knew what they were doing. Thinking about the bridge and admiring its quality distracted him a bit from the dreary mist, and eventually starts humming quietly to himself as thoughts of the mist slip from his mind.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
SHAY
Shay does what she can to steady herself as she and the others pass over the Stone Bridge and walk far above clouds of mist hovering over the river down below. She'd chanced a single peek to take the view in as they began their trip to the other side and nearly became rooted to the spot, never having been a fan of high places despite the occasion. It helps to concentrate on the people immediately in front of her while keeping occupied by reminding herself that they were currently crossing one of the most incredible pieces of history available to them, magical or otherwise.
Shay keeps her eyes open for any clues as to the whereabouts of tracks or droppings left by the mysterious creatures the old man had spoken of last night as they slowly approach the eastern ramp, but is disappointed to see nothing of note standing out. Too much time must have passed. When the time does come to discover more about these things, Shay only hopes that they aren't as menacing as the old man had made them sound. With the western bank coming up, Shay hopes her relief isn't too visible, but unintentionally speeds up in her walking regardless, very ready to be back on ground she could feel safer standing on.
Harold
Before stepping out into the mists, Harold checks to make sure that his beard and hair are presentable. After a carefully inspecting his appearance, he checks his gear and pulls out a hooded lantern from his bag. Once the lantern is lit, he steps out into the damp mist. He clutches his chest with his free hand in an attempt to keep in any warmth as the cool air sends a chill down his spine. Harold stays close to the center of the bridge as they make their way across the arch, choosing not to venture close to the edge. Attaching his lantern to his belt, he would slip his hand into his shirt and pull out a few pieces of well seasoned meat. Taking a bite, he would look to his companions and extend his hand towards their direction. "Want a bite? I cured it myself. A bit of a hobby of mine" Harold says with a grin before taking another bite.
All the while he keeps his eyes peeled on his surroundings. He didn't enjoy being on the bridge... it made him feel trapped in the same way being on the boat did.
SHAY
As they near the western bank, Shay declines Harold’s offer, not caring for eating meat based on strong principles she holds as a long time lover of nature and its inhabitants. She does have to admit even quietly to herself that it almost looks good in a distantly admirable sort of way. Her father would’ve likely happily obliged him, having no problem enjoying fine food regardless of what it was and she tells Harold as much with a laugh. Once on the other side and finally free of the confines of the Stone Bridge, Shay sets to work her plan to search around for any sign of those unknown creatures, figuring she’d know them when she saw them.
She checks over the main pathway with a keen eye, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, similar to their passing to get there. Time goes on as she hears small conversations taking place around her from her new traveling companions, careful not to leave them too far behind in her hunt for clues. Eventually, she comes upon many huge foreign tracks that while less prominent than more human or wheeled ones, stand out all the same.
She goes down into a crouching position to further examine them, deciding very quickly that the best way to determine just what they were is by using magic. Closing her eyes to better concentrate on the current of power residing within her, Shay hovers her hand palm down over the nearest of the tracks and focuses. Those watching would see a soft glow of purple light coming both from her palm and the tracks directly beneath it as she casts her spell.
In her mind Shay is shown a visual of several large insectoid beasts clambering jerkily around as their massive antennae flit from one point of interest to another. Though it lasts for only a moment, Shay shivers at the disgusting imagery as if the things- or more accurately their hideously fierce mandibles- had been mere inches from her face. She turns to those closest to her and explains in detail what she’d seen, though she doesn’t believe she does the sight proper justice.
“They were these massive, spiked, insect type…things that I’m not familiar with. Why anyone would get close enough to touch them or want to ride them at all is a mystery to me.” She addresses Marcos and Miss Samitha directly now, “I couldn’t tell you what they’re called, I’m sorry. But I can ask one of my faction leaders for more details if one of you believes it’s important enough.”
RASTRIN
Rastrin grimaces at the description of the creatures Shay describes. He's not quite sure how she was able ascertain the creatures' looks from just their footprints, but he wasn't surprised that she could do something like that. The people he traveled with were obviously very talented. He had never seen anything like the things Shay described, but they didn't sound very pleasant. Hopefully they wouldn't run into them.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
Marcos had been in conversation with the Sturgeon’s captain, Ede Dorka, who stood gracefully erect with one hand on the pommel of his rapier, having introduced Marcos to the friend of his whom he’d mentioned the prior day. But when Shay approaches with a new revelation about creatures that had passed on the road, Marcos stiffly nods to Dorka’s friend, and the pair, Dorka and his friend, stand apart to speak privately.
Shay: “I couldn’t tell you what they’re called, I’m sorry. But I can ask one of my faction leaders for more details if one of you believes it’s important enough.”
“Well?,” Marcos asks Miss Samitha, and she responds in her usual efficient manner, arms crossed behind her formally.
“Mister Varixx, you ask my opinion. I believe that the most important fact is that neither of our trackers have discovered the passage of the missing delegation, and according to Captain Dorka’s personal friend, no one in Holoko saw them either. So, we do not know if they ever reached the Stone Bridge." She looks at Shay. "So even though it is surprising to hear of the passage of these creatures, I don't know if the tracks are related to the delegation or not. Yet."
Marcos’ brow is knit in thought. “Shay,” he starts up again after a moment, “I think it is your decision. If there is nothing to lose, then even though the information might end up being irrelevant, it could also end up being of importance. But whatever you decide, we still have found no sign of the delegation. We must turn southwest on the Larch Path, and pick up their trail north of Red Larch where Aniko passed them.” He turns to Harold and Rastrin. “Unless you have anything to add?”
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
RASTRIN
The dragonborn squirms a bit as many pairs of eyes within the group settle upon him and Harold. He had been humming quietly to himself while the others conversed, but he quickly ends the tune as Marcos directs a question towards him and Harold. "Um," he hesitantly starts. "The fellow we talked to last night said that there were people riding the things Shay described, and I don't know of anyone that rides around spiky bugs for fun." He shrugs. "It could be worth looking into."
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
"It sounds like your father and I could be good friends." Harold replies with a smile. "You know, I don't think I ever understood why so many druid types refuse to eat meat. I suspect that in nature, there are almost as many creatures that eat other animals as there are creatures that eat plants... seems like if you were really concerned about balance, you would eat both plants and animals right?" He asks as he raises an eyebrow before smiling and giving Shay a pat on the arm. "I'm just joking around with you Shay. I like to cook and so maybe the first meal I make on this adventure of ours will be a hardy vegetable stew if you wish." The merchant replies with a grin.
He pauses when Shay goes quiet and begins investigating the road. He stands by and examines the same markings but they don't mean anything to him. Hearing the description of the beast causes a look of concern to spread across his face. he strokes his beard as he considers what he may have gotten himself into.
When Marcus asks for his input, Harold clears his throat and replies. "Marcus, I consider myself a set of tools with many uses... uses that will help us in our quest to find the caravan. That being said... that set of tools does not include a compass. So I will defer to the groups judgment on where to go next."
SHAY
Listening carefully to the input of both Rastrin and Harold when they speak to Marcos, as well as Marcos himself, it becomes clear that all involved prefer to let the choice rest with her. While she isn’t keen on wasting precious time by asking questions not directly related to the missing delegation, not saying anything at all would only nag at her in the following days after. Leaving any course of action unfinished, regardless of how big or small, felt to her the same way ignoring an pestering itch did- distracting in the worst of ways.
She was glad things worked out the way they had so she didn’t have to deal with the mental incompleteness of not knowing something. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to ask then.” Shay walks off a way to take her notebook out and once again describe what she saw in as vivid detail as she could manage. This time, the response is quick, coming from Norrin judging from the hasty handwriting he was known for.
‘That sounds like a group of Ankhegs. Burrower creatures mainly known for grappling their victims in their hooked end legs along with their vicious acid spray. Their spray reach goes quite far, avoid them entirely if possible. From the sound of things it would also be wise to avoid their riders. No sane individuals would mount such destructive creatures like they were mere horses.’
Shay jots back a hasty thanks in response and returns to the group with her update, hoping as she talks that this new information won’t prove to be needed any time in the near future. “My faction leader also said it would be best to avoid the riders too, he doesn’t think they’re well. I’m sorry if this wasted any time, maybe we can keep an eye out for what to avoid now if nothing else.” She gives the tracks another once over and does her best to commit them to memory, just as a precaution. While she dearly loves all of nature’s creatures even she has to admit as far as Ankhegs went, it was more of a distance tolerance .
Shay: “My faction leader also said it would be best to avoid the riders too, he doesn’t think they’re well. I’m sorry if this wasted any time, maybe we can keep an eye out for what to avoid now if nothing else.”
Marcus nods at this advice appreciatively. “Not well, eh? If they’ve done any harm to the cohort from Waterdeep, I’ll see to it that they’re unwell for certain. Miss Samitha, and Harold. Let us see to the unloading of Mr. Goldweaver’s cart – I notice your smart percheron has debarked already,” he adds, to Harold. “A fine draft horse, and I’m glad, for a carriage pulled by an easily frightened horse would not have suited the journey.” He turns back to his steward and, apparently, lieutenant. “As soon as that’s done, we head south, into the Sumber Hills. Miss Samitha?”
“I’ll inform the guard,” she crisply responds, and in a moment has already turned on her heel to execute those tasks.
* * *
It is now afternoon. After heading west on the Stone Trail for several miles, passing a noble’s coach heading to Beliard from Westbridge, a lone rider carrying mail on a fast horse, and several farmers on carts, you reached the place where the Larch Path intersects the Stone Trail and there turned southwest into the Sumber Hills, covered in brown grasses and sedge. Here and there, small copses of trees and thickets break up the browns and ambers, and although you see no large beasts, you can be sure the hills are teeming with small wildlife – snakes, field mice, and the like – for turkey vultures and crows fly overhead, drifting upon high thermals, diving down when they spy something to eat.
Craggy and curved, the Larch path skirts steep inclines, but is almost always on or under one of the thousand hillocks and tall, softly rolling hills of these lands. Although you meet no one upon the path, there is ample evidence of the passage of traffic: wagon ruts and mule droppings prove that people come this way on a regular basis.
The sun now hangs over the western horizon and you’ve covered almost twenty miles with no sign at all of the missing delegation, although Shay has noticed the passage of ankhegs in several places along the way, when you spot a cloud of ravens and vultures – dozens – circling a mile or so west of the trail.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
RASTRIN
As the day continues on, Rastrin found that he had a lot of time to get lost in his own little world of thoughts. He definitely hadn't thought that his week would turn out being this way when it first started, and yet, here he was with a bunch of strangers all looking for some missing important folks from Waterdeep. He would've never assumed that he would find himself in midst of such a group, but life was full of surprises.
For the first few hours of walking, he mostly keeps to himself, humming to himself as he drank in the beauty of the beautiful landscape they trekked through. He would occasionally snatch a stick or small dead branch from near the trail as they walked. Once he had found such an item, he would hum contentedly as he began burning the stick just by merely touching it. He could ignite objects with a mere brush of a hand, and when he was younger, that had caused several problems. He used to be terrified of fire, but now, he found watching the thin shaft of wood smoking and crackling enjoyable, veins of red heat pulsing and spreading throughout the branch. Soon, his hands were stained with ash and soot, but he didn't mind. They had been his companions for a long time now.
During one of his branch-burning sessions, he attempts to strike up conversation with Harold. The bearded man was rather congenial, and Rastrin felt like he was easily the most approachable of the disciplined group. While not much of conversationalist himself, Rastrin is easily able to carry a conversation. Once he a bit of time to get used to others, Rastrin was actually quite friendly and cheery; it just took him a while to warm up. Soon, he found himself chatting with others as well. After that, the hours seemed to fly by, though he still managed to reduce several branches and twigs to ash throughout the day.
Near evening, he found himself laughing along with several others at a joke told by one of the warriors. Grinning and still chuckling, he takes a moment to look out over the valley. The setting sun shed golden light upon the rolling hills of the valley, creating a beautiful vista before them. While enjoying the warmth of the setting sun, his smile fades slightly when he notices the circling vultures not too far from the trail. He didn't need Shay to tell him that circling vultures meant there was something dead over. Could that maybe be the caravan they were supposed to find? He doubted it; the caravan sounded like it would be too well defended to simply just be killed on the side of the road, but there were a lot of the carrion birds over that directoin. Still probably worth checking it out though, even if it was just some unfortunate animal that met its demise at the hand of a predator.
"There's a bunch of vultures over that way," he points out. "Too many for just a single dead animal, but I could be wrong." He glances towards Shay as he says that. She was the expert on animals supposedly, so she should definitely know more about vultures than he did.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
SHAY
As they carry on into the afternoon on the Stone Trail, Shay opts to observe her companions in a comfortable silence. She notices as Rastrin in particular strikes up many small conversations, starting with Harold, and slowly makes his way to talk to several of the others also journeying with them, though many of their names escape her. As he begins burning small twigs and leaves in his hands, Shay turns her attention to the sightings of quite a few Ankheg markings indicating that the odd group Norrin warned them about passed through at some point well before them.
While the talking persists, Shay allows the casual flow of chatter to act as calming background noise as her eyes drift skyward. She watches several clouds floating above listlessly and quickly spots ravens and vultures circling over a spot further along the trail. Rastrin’s voice gets her attention as his words are now directed her way. “There’s a bunch of vultures over that way. Too many for a single dead animal, but I could be wrong.”
Shay feels her brows furrow, uncertain if a single dead animal could cause so much of a turnout of scavengers as well. “I think you might be right. If the land were in bad shape and the grounded animals scarcer overall I’d understand the reason for such large numbers, but this isn’t making much sense right now.” She shakes her head in slight confusion, and takes a short moment to mentally prepare herself for what would likely be an unpleasant sight coming up.
”Animals only behave strangely when something is wrong, and it typically tends to start with birds.”
Harold
Harold was happy to engage in conversation with the hulking dragonborn, offering him some home cured meat as they made their way down the road. Harold would ask Rastrin about where he came from and about any particular skills he possessed. Aside from being very large and abnormally hot, the merchant didn't know anything about the dragonborn... outside of his control over flame.
The merchant would look towards the sky, holding his hand above his eyes to shield himself from the sunlight. "Well... we may have found our caravan." Harold would say flatly, his face still and serious. "Suppose there is only one way to find out. I would hope that if the delegation is dead that perhaps their cargo is still intact... but I can hardly believe that someone might attack a caravan and then leave the goods behind." Harold's eyes narrow and he slowly draws a pair of short swords from his waist. Clutching them firmly, he holds them at his sides. The weapons are simple but well made, seeming to lack some of the flair that the rest of his outfit possesses. "I think we need to investigate... I would be ready for anything... and try to be quiet in case we are not the only ones searching for the caravan..." harold whispers as begins to move off the road and into the brush nearby.
Stealth 25
When Harold draws his blades, Marcos seems to read his intention. “Vaszil. Wit.” He points at Harold with his chin. In moments, two bowmen join Harold. The pair have spent most of the day traveling a hundred yards or two hundred yards ahead of the rest of the group, and seem to have keen eyes and light feet. Without a word, they match Harold’s pace and, one to either side of him ten or twenty paces, move forward with hardly a sound – just as Harold does – toward the circling birds.
There is hardly any brush here. Thickets and trees are few and far between. Wending through the dells and not over the hilltops is the best one can manage between where Harold, Vaszil and Wit are now and where they want to go.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
Twenty minutes later, a mile or so off the Larch Path, the sun now hanging low over the western horizon and spraying pink and orange across the clouds hanging in the west, Harold stoops, hidden among a line of dogwoods surrounding a wide elm — with Vaszil and Wit similarly esconced nearby — and the merchant looks down into a small dell over which the birds continue to circle. There he finds the remains of a battle. A score of bodies, several horses, all dead. A vulture perched on one of them leans over, pecks, comes back with a strand of tendon.
Lying nearby, two abandoned wagons and a fine carriage, the latter smashed in half like a discarded egg shell.
The ground looks very rough.
From here, two hundred yards above, no more details are apparent. You wait five minutes, ten. Nothing happens. Vaszil and Wit seem content with this much information, and Wit turns to Harold from the far end of the elm’s ranging boughs, cocking his head back in the direction the three had come, suggesting a return to the company. He awaits Harold’s response.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
"It looks like we have found the caravan" Harold whispers under his breath to the scouts accompanying him. He hated being so exposed and felt as though his approach would have been noticed by anyone watching over the remains of the battle. The fact that a vulture was still here eating at least caused him to believe that they were at least partially successful in approaching unseen. "Yes, let's go back and tell the others. It appears to be safe to approach... nothing but dead bodies here." Harold replies before slinking off back towards the group. On his return trip, he is considerably less concerned with being stealthy as he goes to return his findings.
When he arrives back to the others, he looks to Marcus and shakes his head. "That's our caravan alright. Looks like the lot of them were slaughtered and left to rot. We didn't search through the remains but I would recommend so do so." He says in a low and serious tone. "They may have left behind clues or valuable items behind that we could recover for our patron." The merchant says... his words heavy. "So now what? After examining the remains to we return and update the RIver Master? Or do we try to recover what was stolen and deliver the goods that were likely stolen?" Harold asks looking from Marcus to Shay and then to Rastin...