“Let us first see what there is to see,” Marcus answers Harold. “Night is coming soon,” he continues, then turns to the company. “We must move quickly. Miss Samitha, Björn and Háry, on guard with the wagon and provisions, there,” he points to a brook running down the nearest hillside. “Set up camp. Others, with me.”
Miss Samitha nods curtly, and with her hallmark efficiency, loses. Or a moment giving Björn and Háry, instructions. All three keep crossbows at hand as they lead the wagon toward what will be your camp for the night.
Meanwhile, in twenty minutes, Marcus, Harold, Shay, Rastrin, and the other Yartarin guardsmen arrive at the grisly scene that Harold had scouted earlier, and they descend into the dell to take stock of the situation.
The smell is overwhelming. The desiccated bodies of two dozen dead soldiers and horses in various states of decomposition lie on the ground, vultures and crows picking at the bones of some, but most of the fallen are nothing more than bones swarming with maggots. The fallen fighters are dressed in black surcoats bearing the emblem of a golden sickle moon reflected on a river’s surface. The heraldic arms of Waterdeep. Most of them appear to have died from battle injuries, although some lie half sunk in small craters or crushed under jumbles of broken rock. One dead horse’s hindquarters are perfectly buried, as if it had stood in a hole and allowed dirt to be packed completely around it. But plainly it was not done willingly, and in addition to being entrapped by the earth, its throat bears a long single slash.
The remains of the broken carriage have been looted. Several broken trunks sit on the ground by the wagons, similarly empty.
Vaszil and Wit come down from the nearby hilltop to the west where they’d been scouting with a report for Marcus.
“We found two rock cairns — one large and one small — upon the hill. Covering bodies, we’d say, by the smell. No more than a month old.”
The sun has set, and the first stars appear in the eastern sky. Marcus is ready to return to Miss Samantha and camp.
Both Shay and Rastrin find the place disturbing, and not for the obvious reasons.
Things move rather quickly once Harold returns with word of what lay ahead, and while Shay fills with dread on the walk there, she does what she can to quell it. Too soon for her liking, they come upon the single most gruesome scene she’d ever laid eyes on, with dozens of decomposing bodies strewn about in multiple states of ruin. At the sight of the partially submerged horse bearing a long slash across its throat, Shay clamps a hand over her mouth. As she scans the area further over, she has to force the physical reaction threatening to come from taking hold and further fouling the air.
Among the many corpses, she sees multiple emptied trunks that appear to have been looted, forcibly opened if she had to guess. She hurriedly uses the opportunity to switch her focus in order to keep her bearings. Vaszil and Wit give a report to Marcos that Shay can only partially pay attention to as an unnerving feeling begins creeping along her skin, making her shiver and glance around in concern. Shay tries to pinpoint the source of this sudden sensation, but is unable to properly do so.
Rastrin gags as a waft of decaying flesh assaults his nose while approaching the clearing. He’s never really had to deal with death and carnage before, so the scent of dead bodies is particularly nauseating to him. His nausea becomes even worst when he sees the clearing with the moldering bodies. He gags again as he takes in the corpses writhing with maggots, and he his previous meal almost escapes from him.
He only half-hears the scouts’ report, still horrified at the grisly scene before them. Who on earth would take the time to slaughter all of these people and then bury them under stone? Wouldn’t it make more sense to just leave after killing everyone in the caravan? Something was off here.
He shivers at the thought, but then he pauses and considers it more. Something was off about this whole situation, but it was more than just the massacre of the caravan. Something about this didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t quite place it. Still grimacing, he begins looking around the clearing in an attempt to spot whatever was the source of his uneasiness.
With the light quickly failing, Marcus calls everyone together to leave the battlefield and to rejoin Miss Samitha and finish setting up camp.
“Tomorrow, in broad daylight, there may be more to see here, and our trackers will have an easier time searching out whatever caused this. They tell me the weather will hold, if anyone can make a good guess about the weather in these strange times, although after so much time... we’ll see. But,” he lowers his voice, speaking only to Harold, Shay and Rastrin, “What I want to know is, why, by Tempus’ blade did they leave the road? A damned fool move, to hit this dell. A dead end, no humor intended. They were surrounded and slain.”
The company falls in behind Marcus and begin the trek back to camp.
It occurs to Shay after they leave the sickening scene of death behind and Marcos finishes speaking, particularly about his confusion about the group leaving the main road, that she realizes the things she witnessed didn’t add up properly. She thinks this over in a few quiet moments of contemplation before clearing her throat to get the attention of her nearby companions. “I’m not sure if any of you noticed as well, but something was very off about that area as a whole. The vultures should’ve moved on quite some time ago as they tend to go after more recently dead creatures to scavenge off of. For them to be so active at that spot was very abnormal.”
No sooner did the thought complete fully than another emerged right on its heels, causing Shay to continue before it had a chance to slip away. “Come to think of it, the bodies themselves should’ve been much more decomposed than what we saw. After three tendays of being there the people ought to have been picked much cleaner, terrible as it is for me to say. I’m thinking the soil itself houses some type of unnatural magic creating a space of unbalance, maybe people are drawn to it and can’t help but go in the direction it originates from? It’s a guess, but it’s what I have to go off of for now.”
As Rastrin looks around, he finally realizes what's wrong. There wasn't anything he was seeing or hearing that was putting him off; rather, it was what he was feeling that put him on edge. He didn't recognized it at first, but the harmonics and tones of fire had been stoking his soul for the past several minutes. To anyone that may have been looking at Rastrin, they might have noticed several wisps of smoke rising from his clothes as they began to char.
As soon as he notices the building rhythms, he clamps down on it with his iron will in an attempt to smother the tones before it led to a disaster. His body tenses as he inwardly battles against the urge to light up the clearing in an incendiary maelstrom. All it would take is a single moment of lapse in his concentration, and the world around him would burn. The grass and shrubs would become wisps of smoke. The dead bodies, smoldering piles of embers. His companions, ash and cinders as they experienced the glorious moment of being transformed by the majesty of flame. For a moment, his resolve waivers as the tones of fire tempt him.
With horror at the thought, he pushes the Song out of his mind, expelling any inclination to set his surroundings on fire. His clothing stops charring, though several rather obvious patches are black and crisp. He hangs his head shamedly as he turns to follow everyone else back towards the trail. He was ashamed that he even considered relinquishing control, no matter how tantalizing it was to watch everything around him burn and become something new. He remains silent and sullen on the way back to the trail, though he does take a few moments to repair the scorch marks on his clothing with a few cantrips.
"So do you believe the soil is magical... or that a spell was recently cast upon the soil?" The merchant offered as contemplated the carnage. "Maybe they thought they were following the road but it was actually some kind of magical trick? Perhaps the bodies had not been ravaged by scavengers because they could not see the bodies until recently.. perhaps hidden by an illusion or alteration?" Harold was grasping at straws as to how the group could have ended up here.
As the group spoke, he glanced towards Rastin and eyed him up and down. "are you alright friend? First time seeing a corpse?" he asked, seeing the large dragonborn appear uneasy.
Harold would investigate the area, looking for any clues or anything left behind of value...
At Harold’s question, Rastrin nods, but he doesn’t say anything. Yes, this was his first time seeing dead bodies like the ones in the clearing, but he decides to leave it at that. Probably wasn’t a good idea to let everyone know he almost incinerated all of them just a few moments ago. He hastens his step to follow Marcus and the rest of the group, shame following him every step of the way.
Harold’s question is a good one and unfortunately one she has no answer to at present. “I think it could be either really. If the spell is recent it could be useful for us to know.” She notices Rastrin’s silence, unsure what his thoughts are on the matter, but figures he’ll say something if and when appropriate.
She takes a short while to prepare her spell, acutely aware that her actions are delaying their walk to camp, but sure it’ll be worth it once they learn more of what’s going on.
Shay has cast the spell many times before, and she is no stranger to the resulting heightening of her senses which allow her to look through the veil between the Lands and Seas and the Sea of Stars, from which all magical power originates, allowing her to perceive enchantments. Objects imbued with magical power, the aura of certain creatures. Yet, while her reality becomes permeable and she notes that various persons around her carry or hold enchanted items – Marcus’ weapon, for example – the druid does not sense magic, per se, in the jumbled earth of the dell, or in the air around it. No, there is no illusion at play here, no siren call to the unwary. And yet… there is something here. Not a beast, or a fey creature, or a thinking person. It is something else entirely, something the elf has never sensed before, but her connection to the natural world tells her is there. And it is not good.
The decomposition of bodies, looked at from one perspective, is a horror. Devastating. A confrontation with mortality, hard to countenance even for an immortal elf. Yet from another perspective, decomposition is, in fact, life, smaller life – all those parasites of the body that the body needs in life, feasting, breaking down their host. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…
That is how it is supposed to be. And yet here, something kept them away. Some force, some aura here – it is weaker now, and losing strength by the hour… but it kept the vultures away, kept the maggots away, kept everything natural from transpiring as it has since the laws of life and death were laid down by the elder gods.
Yet to put this into words… would not be easy, for Shay has no words for this, no name for this aura. This… weakening of nature’s path.
After finishing his search of the ambush site, Harold moves to head back to camp with his companions. The Merchant didn't know much about magic or spells, and was at a loss as to what had happened leading up to the caravans slaughter. Most of his knowledge of the arcane came from buying and selling the occasional magical item that passed through his shop.
"So... Anyone have a request for dinner?" Harold asks, trying to lighten the mood. "I was thinking of making a vegetable stew... perhaps with some seared meat on the side for those that want it." He says with a smile glancing towards Shay and then Rastrin.
Shay perks up at Harold’s dinner related question, discovering that she was in fact hungry now that the topic had been brought up. She makes some attempt at explaining to the others what she experienced while attempting to detect any sinister magic in the dell. “Nothing of note stood out other than the understanding that something kept the corpses from decomposing sooner than they naturally should’ve. It also kept the animals away, though the source didn’t originate from any one spell. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be good. It’s all very confusing to me. I might have to sleep on this for the night.”
She looks to Harold properly, setting her concerns to the side if only for the moment. “I’d really like to try that vegetable stew of yours. Maybe we’ll even see if it holds a candle to my own.” A quick glance is cast to Rastrin as his silence continues and Shay thinks he must be deep in thought about something or another.
The company from Yartar is more than half-way back to the Larch Road, where Miss Samitha, Vaszil and Wit were left behind to make camp, when suddenly, the hairs on your arms stand on end and a tremor shakes the ground beneath you. Everyone stops in place, noticing trees swaying due to the quaking earth. Rocks on the hillside over the curved path you are on – mostly gravel but some stones large enough to break bones – skitter down and rebound off the hard earth in front of you.
But the rumbling only lasts a few breaths, maybe half a minute, and then recedes to silence. Dust poofs up in the darkness, making your eyes water, but nothing further happens, and some of the men chuckle. “Why,” one says, “that almost had me wetting my britches,” and the others laugh.
The company is just about to continue. And then, all stop suddenly in place, with expressions of even greater dismay than before. For the clear sound of a horn trumpets a single long note in the distance ahead of you.
The Yartarin instantly draw their blades. Marcus turns to Harold, Shay and Rastrin and shouts. “Miss Samitha! They are in danger! Run!” And he leads the Yartarin Guards like lightning down the path, toward the wagon, toward Miss Samitha and the scouts.
The dragonborn tenses as the earth begins to tremble and undulate. The tremors snapped him out of his pensive mood, rousing him to alertness as he looks around at the shaking earth. He had heard of earthquakes, but he had never experienced one before. It was strange to see the earth itself shivering, but Rastrin found it mildly interesting. He heard they could get a lot more destructive than this, but a mild one like this was interesting to observe.
Rastrin chuckles at the sarcastic remark, but the sound of a horn in the distance quickly kills any mirth he may have felt. What was that? He looks confusedly at the others, noticing the dismayed and grim expressions. Uh oh, he thinks. With a sinking feeling of dread, it dawns on him that something must be happening back at camp. He begins charging along the path with the others at Marcos's command, trying to ignore the pit of dread and twisting worry he felt. If something was attacking the camp, he realizes with dread that he would be expected to use his magic to help defend the others. Could he really do that? Was letting go of his control for a few moments worth the risk? He felt the distant stirrings of the Song begin to stoke the embers of magic within him at the thought.
"We need to move!" Harold shouts as the dust clears before racing towards the wagon. As he runs, he quickly draws his shortswords from his belt and readies his weapons. His fine coat flipping in the wind behind him as he rushes towards danger.
Beneath her feet the earth trembles very abruptly, ending in a series of confused looks cast around and a quip on the end of one of the guards whose name Shay couldn’t recall. For a beat some of the tension is gone as everyone seems to exhale and even Rastrin produces a chuckle. Then, the sound of a distant horn reaches their ears and in a snap things are again thrown into motion.
Marcos orders everyone to camp and towards where Miss Samitha and those they left behind called for help. Shay fumbles with her bag and removes her staff in preparation as they all rush forward.
As Marcos, the Yartarin Guards, Harold, Rastrin and Shay rush forward through the darkness, some stumbling on the uneven ground, the sound of battle, fighters grunting as they swing their weapons, shields deflecting blows, other sounds without names grow, as does the sound of horses whinnying in terror.
They race, spurred on by these sounds, around the final hillock, and, now, as a musky vinegar-anise smell makes their lips curl, see the little clearing by a brook, and lit by firelight from a small firepit, the wagon, Miss Samitha, and one of the scouts, whose swords and shields are raised as they dart for cover and exchange blows with their attackers.
They are surrounded by six or seven horse-sized insects — ankhegs, as Shay knows and the others surmise — one of which climbs up over the wagon, knocking barrels of provisions, and looking over the other scout. The creature’s head juts down, its mandibles grabbing, and picks up the man by his waist, shakes him, and throws him across the clearing to land, crumpled, on the ground, yards away.
As they clear the last hillock, Rastrin freezes at the sight of the gigantic insects ravaging the camp. Luckily, he was towards the back of the group; otherwise, the other battle-hardened warriors would have plowed him over in their rallying charge at the creatures. He watches in horror as one of the creatures, one of the akhegs that Shay described from earlier, grab a man an casually toss him across the clearing. As he stares at the man crumpled on the ground, for the first time, he seriously considers his decision to join the company. "I- I'm not a fighter,'' he stammers fearfully as he unconsciously takes a small step back. I can't do this, he thinks as the others engage with the beasts. It was a mistake ever coming here in the first place. By the Crusader's zeal, I can't even help if I wanted to. I only know how to light fires.
At the thought, the Song within him raged into swirling maelstrom of tones, rhythm, and heat. BURN THEM, it cried inside him, shaking him at the force of the command. CONSUME THEM. CLEANSE. BURN.
Did he dare risk relinquishing control? The Song pressed against his will like never before, struggling for release. As he struggles to remain in control, he continue to stares numbly at the crumpled man, wisps of smoke beginning to curl from the dragonborn's already singed clothes...
Seeing so many ankhegs in one place filled Shay with countless doubt about her ability to take even one of them on and despite her understanding that she had to act, she hesitates just long enough to watch as a man is picked up and thrown far off and to the ground as if he weighed no more than a pebble. She takes a short moment to steel herself, eyeing the closest insectoid and gripping her staff tighter in her hands as she prepares to go in and contribute what she can.
With a general plan forming in her head, Shay takes off in the direction of an ankheg that currently had its back to her and casts thorn whip. A long vine covered in thorns bursts from the earth at her feet and in one strong arc, comes down to hit the massive insect with enough force to split much of the exoskeleton on its back wide open.
Shay grimaces at the sight of its exposed insides, fighting the urge to vomit while readying another attack.
Harold races towards the fighting with his swords drawn. Upon seeing the large naturally armored creatures, he tosses one of his swords into the dirt and pulls a vial of acid from inside of his shirt. The creatures were unlike anything he had ever seen before, but the Merchant didn't fear death. His boots pounded against the dirt with every step towards the creature. Clutching the vial tightly, he throws the acid towards the leg the closest ankheg.
The swirling liquid catches the light as it tumbles through the air before slamming into its target. Acid and glass spray out and cover the creatures leg as the vial shatters on impact. In an instant, steam and smoke rise up from the creatures leg as the sound of sizzling chitin can be heard by those nearby. "YOU THERE! STRIKE NOW!" Harold shouts while pointing his short sword towards a nearby guard.
The Ankheg stumbles as the acid covered leg shrivels and dissolves, providing an opening for the nearby soldier to strike...
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“Let us first see what there is to see,” Marcus answers Harold. “Night is coming soon,” he continues, then turns to the company. “We must move quickly. Miss Samitha, Björn and Háry, on guard with the wagon and provisions, there,” he points to a brook running down the nearest hillside. “Set up camp. Others, with me.”
Miss Samitha nods curtly, and with her hallmark efficiency, loses. Or a moment giving Björn and Háry, instructions. All three keep crossbows at hand as they lead the wagon toward what will be your camp for the night.
Meanwhile, in twenty minutes, Marcus, Harold, Shay, Rastrin, and the other Yartarin guardsmen arrive at the grisly scene that Harold had scouted earlier, and they descend into the dell to take stock of the situation.
The smell is overwhelming. The desiccated bodies of two dozen dead soldiers and horses in various states of decomposition lie on the ground, vultures and crows picking at the bones of some, but most of the fallen are nothing more than bones swarming with maggots. The fallen fighters are dressed in black surcoats bearing the emblem of a golden sickle moon reflected on a river’s surface. The heraldic arms of Waterdeep. Most of them appear to have died from battle injuries, although some lie half sunk in small craters or crushed under jumbles of broken rock. One dead horse’s hindquarters are perfectly buried, as if it had stood in a hole and allowed dirt to be packed completely around it. But plainly it was not done willingly, and in addition to being entrapped by the earth, its throat bears a long single slash.
The remains of the broken carriage have been looted. Several broken trunks sit on the ground by the wagons, similarly empty.
Vaszil and Wit come down from the nearby hilltop to the west where they’d been scouting with a report for Marcus.
“We found two rock cairns — one large and one small — upon the hill. Covering bodies, we’d say, by the smell. No more than a month old.”
The sun has set, and the first stars appear in the eastern sky. Marcus is ready to return to Miss Samantha and camp.
Both Shay and Rastrin find the place disturbing, and not for the obvious reasons.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
SHAY
Things move rather quickly once Harold returns with word of what lay ahead, and while Shay fills with dread on the walk there, she does what she can to quell it. Too soon for her liking, they come upon the single most gruesome scene she’d ever laid eyes on, with dozens of decomposing bodies strewn about in multiple states of ruin. At the sight of the partially submerged horse bearing a long slash across its throat, Shay clamps a hand over her mouth. As she scans the area further over, she has to force the physical reaction threatening to come from taking hold and further fouling the air.
Among the many corpses, she sees multiple emptied trunks that appear to have been looted, forcibly opened if she had to guess. She hurriedly uses the opportunity to switch her focus in order to keep her bearings. Vaszil and Wit give a report to Marcos that Shay can only partially pay attention to as an unnerving feeling begins creeping along her skin, making her shiver and glance around in concern. Shay tries to pinpoint the source of this sudden sensation, but is unable to properly do so.
RASTRIN
Rastrin gags as a waft of decaying flesh assaults his nose while approaching the clearing. He’s never really had to deal with death and carnage before, so the scent of dead bodies is particularly nauseating to him. His nausea becomes even worst when he sees the clearing with the moldering bodies. He gags again as he takes in the corpses writhing with maggots, and he his previous meal almost escapes from him.
He only half-hears the scouts’ report, still horrified at the grisly scene before them. Who on earth would take the time to slaughter all of these people and then bury them under stone? Wouldn’t it make more sense to just leave after killing everyone in the caravan? Something was off here.
He shivers at the thought, but then he pauses and considers it more. Something was off about this whole situation, but it was more than just the massacre of the caravan. Something about this didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t quite place it. Still grimacing, he begins looking around the clearing in an attempt to spot whatever was the source of his uneasiness.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
With the light quickly failing, Marcus calls everyone together to leave the battlefield and to rejoin Miss Samitha and finish setting up camp.
“Tomorrow, in broad daylight, there may be more to see here, and our trackers will have an easier time searching out whatever caused this. They tell me the weather will hold, if anyone can make a good guess about the weather in these strange times, although after so much time... we’ll see. But,” he lowers his voice, speaking only to Harold, Shay and Rastrin, “What I want to know is, why, by Tempus’ blade did they leave the road? A damned fool move, to hit this dell. A dead end, no humor intended. They were surrounded and slain.”
The company falls in behind Marcus and begin the trek back to camp.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
SHAY
It occurs to Shay after they leave the sickening scene of death behind and Marcos finishes speaking, particularly about his confusion about the group leaving the main road, that she realizes the things she witnessed didn’t add up properly. She thinks this over in a few quiet moments of contemplation before clearing her throat to get the attention of her nearby companions. “I’m not sure if any of you noticed as well, but something was very off about that area as a whole. The vultures should’ve moved on quite some time ago as they tend to go after more recently dead creatures to scavenge off of. For them to be so active at that spot was very abnormal.”
No sooner did the thought complete fully than another emerged right on its heels, causing Shay to continue before it had a chance to slip away. “Come to think of it, the bodies themselves should’ve been much more decomposed than what we saw. After three tendays of being there the people ought to have been picked much cleaner, terrible as it is for me to say. I’m thinking the soil itself houses some type of unnatural magic creating a space of unbalance, maybe people are drawn to it and can’t help but go in the direction it originates from? It’s a guess, but it’s what I have to go off of for now.”
RASTRIN
As Rastrin looks around, he finally realizes what's wrong. There wasn't anything he was seeing or hearing that was putting him off; rather, it was what he was feeling that put him on edge. He didn't recognized it at first, but the harmonics and tones of fire had been stoking his soul for the past several minutes. To anyone that may have been looking at Rastrin, they might have noticed several wisps of smoke rising from his clothes as they began to char.
As soon as he notices the building rhythms, he clamps down on it with his iron will in an attempt to smother the tones before it led to a disaster. His body tenses as he inwardly battles against the urge to light up the clearing in an incendiary maelstrom. All it would take is a single moment of lapse in his concentration, and the world around him would burn. The grass and shrubs would become wisps of smoke. The dead bodies, smoldering piles of embers. His companions, ash and cinders as they experienced the glorious moment of being transformed by the majesty of flame. For a moment, his resolve waivers as the tones of fire tempt him.
With horror at the thought, he pushes the Song out of his mind, expelling any inclination to set his surroundings on fire. His clothing stops charring, though several rather obvious patches are black and crisp. He hangs his head shamedly as he turns to follow everyone else back towards the trail. He was ashamed that he even considered relinquishing control, no matter how tantalizing it was to watch everything around him burn and become something new. He remains silent and sullen on the way back to the trail, though he does take a few moments to repair the scorch marks on his clothing with a few cantrips.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
harold
"So do you believe the soil is magical... or that a spell was recently cast upon the soil?" The merchant offered as contemplated the carnage. "Maybe they thought they were following the road but it was actually some kind of magical trick? Perhaps the bodies had not been ravaged by scavengers because they could not see the bodies until recently.. perhaps hidden by an illusion or alteration?" Harold was grasping at straws as to how the group could have ended up here.
As the group spoke, he glanced towards Rastin and eyed him up and down. "are you alright friend? First time seeing a corpse?" he asked, seeing the large dragonborn appear uneasy.
Harold would investigate the area, looking for any clues or anything left behind of value...
investigation roll 10
RASTRIN
At Harold’s question, Rastrin nods, but he doesn’t say anything. Yes, this was his first time seeing dead bodies like the ones in the clearing, but he decides to leave it at that. Probably wasn’t a good idea to let everyone know he almost incinerated all of them just a few moments ago. He hastens his step to follow Marcus and the rest of the group, shame following him every step of the way.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
Detect magic - rolled a 4
SHAY
Harold’s question is a good one and unfortunately one she has no answer to at present. “I think it could be either really. If the spell is recent it could be useful for us to know.” She notices Rastrin’s silence, unsure what his thoughts are on the matter, but figures he’ll say something if and when appropriate.
She takes a short while to prepare her spell, acutely aware that her actions are delaying their walk to camp, but sure it’ll be worth it once they learn more of what’s going on.
SHAY
Shay has cast the spell many times before, and she is no stranger to the resulting heightening of her senses which allow her to look through the veil between the Lands and Seas and the Sea of Stars, from which all magical power originates, allowing her to perceive enchantments. Objects imbued with magical power, the aura of certain creatures. Yet, while her reality becomes permeable and she notes that various persons around her carry or hold enchanted items – Marcus’ weapon, for example – the druid does not sense magic, per se, in the jumbled earth of the dell, or in the air around it. No, there is no illusion at play here, no siren call to the unwary. And yet… there is something here. Not a beast, or a fey creature, or a thinking person. It is something else entirely, something the elf has never sensed before, but her connection to the natural world tells her is there. And it is not good.
The decomposition of bodies, looked at from one perspective, is a horror. Devastating. A confrontation with mortality, hard to countenance even for an immortal elf. Yet from another perspective, decomposition is, in fact, life, smaller life – all those parasites of the body that the body needs in life, feasting, breaking down their host. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…
That is how it is supposed to be. And yet here, something kept them away. Some force, some aura here – it is weaker now, and losing strength by the hour… but it kept the vultures away, kept the maggots away, kept everything natural from transpiring as it has since the laws of life and death were laid down by the elder gods.
Yet to put this into words… would not be easy, for Shay has no words for this, no name for this aura. This… weakening of nature’s path.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
Harold
After finishing his search of the ambush site, Harold moves to head back to camp with his companions. The Merchant didn't know much about magic or spells, and was at a loss as to what had happened leading up to the caravans slaughter. Most of his knowledge of the arcane came from buying and selling the occasional magical item that passed through his shop.
"So... Anyone have a request for dinner?" Harold asks, trying to lighten the mood. "I was thinking of making a vegetable stew... perhaps with some seared meat on the side for those that want it." He says with a smile glancing towards Shay and then Rastrin.
SHAY
Shay perks up at Harold’s dinner related question, discovering that she was in fact hungry now that the topic had been brought up. She makes some attempt at explaining to the others what she experienced while attempting to detect any sinister magic in the dell. “Nothing of note stood out other than the understanding that something kept the corpses from decomposing sooner than they naturally should’ve. It also kept the animals away, though the source didn’t originate from any one spell. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be good. It’s all very confusing to me. I might have to sleep on this for the night.”
She looks to Harold properly, setting her concerns to the side if only for the moment. “I’d really like to try that vegetable stew of yours. Maybe we’ll even see if it holds a candle to my own.” A quick glance is cast to Rastrin as his silence continues and Shay thinks he must be deep in thought about something or another.
The company from Yartar is more than half-way back to the Larch Road, where Miss Samitha, Vaszil and Wit were left behind to make camp, when suddenly, the hairs on your arms stand on end and a tremor shakes the ground beneath you. Everyone stops in place, noticing trees swaying due to the quaking earth. Rocks on the hillside over the curved path you are on – mostly gravel but some stones large enough to break bones – skitter down and rebound off the hard earth in front of you.
But the rumbling only lasts a few breaths, maybe half a minute, and then recedes to silence. Dust poofs up in the darkness, making your eyes water, but nothing further happens, and some of the men chuckle. “Why,” one says, “that almost had me wetting my britches,” and the others laugh.
The company is just about to continue. And then, all stop suddenly in place, with expressions of even greater dismay than before. For the clear sound of a horn trumpets a single long note in the distance ahead of you.
The Yartarin instantly draw their blades. Marcus turns to Harold, Shay and Rastrin and shouts. “Miss Samitha! They are in danger! Run!” And he leads the Yartarin Guards like lightning down the path, toward the wagon, toward Miss Samitha and the scouts.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
RASTRIN
The dragonborn tenses as the earth begins to tremble and undulate. The tremors snapped him out of his pensive mood, rousing him to alertness as he looks around at the shaking earth. He had heard of earthquakes, but he had never experienced one before. It was strange to see the earth itself shivering, but Rastrin found it mildly interesting. He heard they could get a lot more destructive than this, but a mild one like this was interesting to observe.
Rastrin chuckles at the sarcastic remark, but the sound of a horn in the distance quickly kills any mirth he may have felt. What was that? He looks confusedly at the others, noticing the dismayed and grim expressions. Uh oh, he thinks. With a sinking feeling of dread, it dawns on him that something must be happening back at camp. He begins charging along the path with the others at Marcos's command, trying to ignore the pit of dread and twisting worry he felt. If something was attacking the camp, he realizes with dread that he would be expected to use his magic to help defend the others. Could he really do that? Was letting go of his control for a few moments worth the risk? He felt the distant stirrings of the Song begin to stoke the embers of magic within him at the thought.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
Harold
"We need to move!" Harold shouts as the dust clears before racing towards the wagon. As he runs, he quickly draws his shortswords from his belt and readies his weapons. His fine coat flipping in the wind behind him as he rushes towards danger.
SHAY
Beneath her feet the earth trembles very abruptly, ending in a series of confused looks cast around and a quip on the end of one of the guards whose name Shay couldn’t recall. For a beat some of the tension is gone as everyone seems to exhale and even Rastrin produces a chuckle. Then, the sound of a distant horn reaches their ears and in a snap things are again thrown into motion.
Marcos orders everyone to camp and towards where Miss Samitha and those they left behind called for help. Shay fumbles with her bag and removes her staff in preparation as they all rush forward.
As Marcos, the Yartarin Guards, Harold, Rastrin and Shay rush forward through the darkness, some stumbling on the uneven ground, the sound of battle, fighters grunting as they swing their weapons, shields deflecting blows, other sounds without names grow, as does the sound of horses whinnying in terror.
They race, spurred on by these sounds, around the final hillock, and, now, as a musky vinegar-anise smell makes their lips curl, see the little clearing by a brook, and lit by firelight from a small firepit, the wagon, Miss Samitha, and one of the scouts, whose swords and shields are raised as they dart for cover and exchange blows with their attackers.
They are surrounded by six or seven horse-sized insects — ankhegs, as Shay knows and the others surmise — one of which climbs up over the wagon, knocking barrels of provisions, and looking over the other scout. The creature’s head juts down, its mandibles grabbing, and picks up the man by his waist, shakes him, and throws him across the clearing to land, crumpled, on the ground, yards away.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
RASTRIN
As they clear the last hillock, Rastrin freezes at the sight of the gigantic insects ravaging the camp. Luckily, he was towards the back of the group; otherwise, the other battle-hardened warriors would have plowed him over in their rallying charge at the creatures. He watches in horror as one of the creatures, one of the akhegs that Shay described from earlier, grab a man an casually toss him across the clearing. As he stares at the man crumpled on the ground, for the first time, he seriously considers his decision to join the company. "I- I'm not a fighter,'' he stammers fearfully as he unconsciously takes a small step back. I can't do this, he thinks as the others engage with the beasts. It was a mistake ever coming here in the first place. By the Crusader's zeal, I can't even help if I wanted to. I only know how to light fires.
At the thought, the Song within him raged into swirling maelstrom of tones, rhythm, and heat. BURN THEM, it cried inside him, shaking him at the force of the command. CONSUME THEM. CLEANSE. BURN.
Did he dare risk relinquishing control? The Song pressed against his will like never before, struggling for release. As he struggles to remain in control, he continue to stares numbly at the crumpled man, wisps of smoke beginning to curl from the dragonborn's already singed clothes...
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
SHAY
Seeing so many ankhegs in one place filled Shay with countless doubt about her ability to take even one of them on and despite her understanding that she had to act, she hesitates just long enough to watch as a man is picked up and thrown far off and to the ground as if he weighed no more than a pebble. She takes a short moment to steel herself, eyeing the closest insectoid and gripping her staff tighter in her hands as she prepares to go in and contribute what she can.
With a general plan forming in her head, Shay takes off in the direction of an ankheg that currently had its back to her and casts thorn whip. A long vine covered in thorns bursts from the earth at her feet and in one strong arc, comes down to hit the massive insect with enough force to split much of the exoskeleton on its back wide open.
Shay grimaces at the sight of its exposed insides, fighting the urge to vomit while readying another attack.
Harold
Harold races towards the fighting with his swords drawn. Upon seeing the large naturally armored creatures, he tosses one of his swords into the dirt and pulls a vial of acid from inside of his shirt. The creatures were unlike anything he had ever seen before, but the Merchant didn't fear death. His boots pounded against the dirt with every step towards the creature. Clutching the vial tightly, he throws the acid towards the leg the closest ankheg.
The swirling liquid catches the light as it tumbles through the air before slamming into its target. Acid and glass spray out and cover the creatures leg as the vial shatters on impact. In an instant, steam and smoke rise up from the creatures leg as the sound of sizzling chitin can be heard by those nearby. "YOU THERE! STRIKE NOW!" Harold shouts while pointing his short sword towards a nearby guard.
The Ankheg stumbles as the acid covered leg shrivels and dissolves, providing an opening for the nearby soldier to strike...