The night passes uneasily, but the night watch offers no alerts, and while the sky is still bluing from gray to periwinkle in the east, Marcus’ scouts are up, exploring the battlefield.
They return at sunup, as the company starts to break camp, report in brief whispered statements to Marcus. The River Master calls Harold, Shay, and Rastrin to revisit the site with him.
After traversing the same path the four had taken the night before, they come around the last hillock and immediately, more clues become evident. Looking southwest, one sees that the little glen where the delegation was attacked is within view of the Larch Road, which lay a half mile directly down a little valley, the battle site at the little valley’s terminus.
The four walk the little valley’s length, to the visible arm of the Larch Road, and from this new vantage point, discover that one can see the Dessarin River down a slope on its far side. Turning here to peer north, it is evident that the road turns slightly right, while the little valley continues flat in the road’s original direction, bearing slightly left.
“Coming from the south, in heavy rain, poor visibility, the delegation could have thought they were continuing on the Larch Road when instead they were heading into a cul de sac,” Marcos theorizes.
After the conversation the night before, Rastrin does his best to fall asleep in his bedroll back in camp. Surprisingly, he passes out rather quickly into a dreamless sleep. Morning seems to come much more quickly than he would have liked, but he eventually escapes the cozy confines of his sleeping roll after only a few minutes of yawning and rubbing his eyes. Standing up and stifling yet another yawn, he sees he’s not alone in being awake. It was a habit of his to alway be out and about when the sun started to rise, and it seemed that it was a habit shared by those of the camp. He goes around and helps break down the camp.
Eventually, Marcus calls him, Shay, and Harold to go follow him. As they head along the trail leading to the skirmish, he keeps to himself for the most part. While he did like being out and about in the mornings, it was too early to be in a social mood.
At Marcus’s theory, Rastrin shrugs. That sounded plausible, though they’re were about a thousand different things that could have taken the delegation the the little clearing.
Speaking up, he says, “I’ve heard stories about priests being able to ask the dead questions. I don't know if it’s an option, but what are the odds we can find a priest in a nearby town that could ask the delegation what happened to them?” It was a bit of a stretch, but it seemed like a good idea to Rastrin.
The merchant rises early, and after gathering his equipment, he begins cooking himself some breakfast over the coals remaining from the night before. The smell and sound of cackling bacon urges those nearby to wake from their slumber. In addition to the bacon, he also prepares a few fluffy biscuits that he carefully wraps up before placing in a small pouch on his hip.
After finishing his meal he accompanies Marcus and listens to his theory about the caravan. "So the question is... do we believe the caravan was targeted on purpose? Or do we think that they took a wrong turn and accidentally stumbled into a gathering of Ankhegs and stone armored riders?" Harold asks as he strokes his beard. His eyes then narrow and he he glances towards Rastin and Shay before returning to marcus. "Do any of you have additional information on soldiers wearing stone armor?"
Rastrin shakes his head at Harold’s question. “I’ve never heard of anything like them.” In fact, he hadn’t even seen the stone-armored figure yesterday that everyone kept talking about. At the time, he had been a bit… distracted.
The morning blurs by rather quickly after everyone arises, and soon Shay finds herself alongside Marcos and the others once again on route to the dell. At the River Master’s questioning, Shay remains silent, unsure of what to add with so little general information to go off of.
Though it helps some when Harold and Rastrin speak their minds, it gives her something to mentally turn over despite her dead silence. “The caravan must’ve been attacked with intent if the missing supplies meant anything, yes?”
At the mention of stone armored riders, Shay perks up. “We’re in the same boat, I didn’t catch sight of any soldiers either.” She addresses his earlier point. “Do you think contacting a priest could work? Dealing with the dead doesn’t always pan out the way people plan.”
Marcos shakes his head no in answer to Harold’s question. “Never.”
The River Master frowns deeply at Rastrin and Shay’s words.
“It is not a task I prefer to undertake. But neither is it a bad idea. I will… put it to Tempus. If the God of War answers my call, then shall the dead speak. There is no need to look beyond the war priest you see before you to accomplish the task. Tempus willing.”
Wit – moving without his usual ease, but moving, thanks to Shay’s ministrations the prior night – and Vaszil, return from having made a circle of the area.
“Tracks,” Vaszil says, “ and drag marks. Leading from the battlefield to this stretch of the road. Then across and down to the river. Old. Three tendays.” He looks to Wit for confirmation, who nods in agreement. “And by the water,” he points down the slope to the bank of the Dessarin, “grooves where keelboats came aground. Picked up passengers, maybe, then pushed off again.”
At mention of the keelboats, Rastrin asks, "Could the marauders have taken prisoners then? Is there a way we can go through the bodies and see who's missing?" He probably wouldn't be very helpful if they were to go and check the bodies as he had no idea about the specific people in the delegation, but it sounded like at least a somewhat decent suggestion in his opinion.
Vaszil and Marcos exchange a whispered dialogue before Marcos turns to Rastrin. "Only the escort was killed. The bodies of the delegates were not found among the dead."
Harold looks to Shay and Rastrin before looking back to Marcus. "Well... if they have prisoners, then we must track them down. I have my own reasons for wanting to find those stone clad murderers dead... but if they have hostages then we have no choice." The merchant replies with a nod.
Shay nods vigorously, “The sooner we locate them the better then, hostages are only useful for a short period of time.” She casts a quick glance in Harold’s direction, curious about his reason for wanting the stone armored group dead, but knowing the time wasn’t appropriate. If he was as adamant about going through with his plan as he seemed, she supposed there had to be a valid reason behind it.
The sun creeps upward, but the temperature seems to drop as Marcos’ lips silently move in prayer to the God of War. A staccato pelting of tiny hailstones quickly crescendos to a roar as a heavy hail clatters off the rocky ground. Then as fast as it swelled it diminishes again to nothing. The sun peeks out behind dramatic clouds as Marcos inhales deeply and rises to his feet.
“Come,” he says, a dark weight groaning around him as he moves and speaks. He heads back to the battlefield. There, he combs the area before finding a decomposing body with slashes on arms, legs, and chest.
“This woman lasted until the end of the battle,” he says, his voice echoing with the same sickening undercurrent that makes Vaszil and Wit squirm. Extending his arm, Marcos beckons the corpse to rise. And rise it does, though held up by what power it is impossible to discern. Not its own animus, for its muscles are rotting flesh.
Maggots swarm and fester through her face, then pull away from her mouth and eyes, where a distant light seems to shine as her voice hisses out, releasing deathly vapors.
“Who calls me back from the halls of Tempus?”
“By Tempus’ name, I am Marcos Varixx, Priest and Soldier. I am loathe to pull you from your glorious rest. I require the five questions promised in ancient pacts.”
“I will answer. Five questions. Then let me be.”
Marcos turns to look at the others. “Now is the time.”
Rastrin fights down a wave of revulsion as the decomposing woman rises. He had heard stories about necromantic warlords using undead in their armies and such, and even though this was an act of divinity, it was still grotesque.
Looking to the others, he starts speaking slowly as if not quite sure if he should be the one asking questions. "What can you tell us about those that attacked you?" It seemed like a decent question to start off with, or at least he hoped it was.
Harold watches in a mixture of shock and disgust as the corpse rises and begins to speak. He takes a step backwards and inspects his shoes to ensure none of the corpse maggots had managed to fall onto his clothing. He listens to the response of the corpse after Rastrin asks the first question. The merchant considers what question he would ask next before speaking.
"Do you know where the attackers were planning to go after they were finished with your caravan?" He asks carefully.
Unable to look at the risen corpse of the woman head on for more than a few seconds, Shay forces the disgust from her tone and expression to the best of her ability. Following the leads of Rastrin and Harold, she readies her own question.
“Is there anything you recall from before the attack started and how you wound up in this area to begin with?”
The dead woman’s frame shudders slightly almost as if in anger. A dark ooze appears at the corners of her mouth as the maggots continue to swarm around the perimeter of her face and she answers in her raspy, heaving, terrible whisper.
“Those that attacked: humans in armor of stone riding giant ants— or beetles — that burrowed under the earth. A giant figure made of rock and sand and earth. Bugbears. Hobgoblins.”
She pauses, completely inert, until Harold’s question is asked.
“ They did not speak of their plans. But… as I lay dying on the field, bleeding out, I saw they had taken captive the members of the delegation while driving blades – killing blows – through the hearts of my fallen cohort. One was coming for me as I saw them lead away the captives back to the road, the way we had come. Then, this.” One jerking hand grabs the spot on her chest showing where a blade had pierced armor and heart. She seems to stare into nothingness until Shay’s question.
“Before the attack… the rain was heavy,” comes the raking whisper, the noxious foulness of her breath tying your stomachs in knots. “Through magic we learned we were being pursued. We could not see them. We rushed away through the rain, hoping to make it to the Stone Bridge and defend ourselves there. But a mist came up from the river, just at the moment that the road turned. We found ourselves here in this dell, hemmed in, mired in mud and quickly surrounded.
“I have answered three questions. Let me be.”
"Soon," says Marcos. His eyes slip over Shay, Harold, and Rastrin. The River Master is plainly disgusted, and not only at the corpse. He snarls, as if the divine intervention, its effects, the entirety of this moment and his complicity in it goes against his beliefs despite his god's willingness to allow it. Reining in his rage, he says flatly, "Two more. And be quick."
Having asked the most vital question, Shay shakes her head to decline saying anything more, grateful for a useful task to keep her from taking in any more of Marcos’ heated stare. She moves back a few steps and writes down what she was told in order to keep Anya and Norrin informed. While waiting for a response, Shay makes herself properly look at the corpse of the fallen woman and then again at Marcos.
She didn’t fully understand the man’s anger as he volunteered to reanimate the woman, before long she’d be at rest once more, the way it was intended. More than anything she was incredibly unsettled by the whole exchange and hoped for all of their sakes the questioning wasn’t drawn out in any way.
Harold listens to the corpse and tries to picture what she was saying in his mind. he closes his eyes and after playing through the story opens his eyes once more. "Did they seem particularly interested in anything in particular? any items or people?" He asks with a frown.
“They fell on us without warning and without mercy,” the gruesome corpse answers. “At first they seemed bent on nothing more than destruction. Taking captives was an afterthought if you ask me.” She is silenced for a time, dry heaving for a few moments before a foot-long, many-legged insect crawls out of her mouth then drops to the earth and wriggles away. “I have never seen a band of brigands harry their prey with more force, nor any company of mercenaries attack with less cause. As for people… they swore oaths in the name of someone called Ogrémoch.”
Ogrémoch, he mouths, silently trying out the unfamiliar word. That was definitely an interesting name. Maybe it was a god he hadn't heard about? There were certainly lots of them running around out there, and the odds of not knowing about one of them was definitely possible. Ogrémoch... He'd have to remember that name, and he racks his memory to see if he had ever heard of that name before.
With only one question left and not knowing quite what to say, he asks the woman, "Is there anything else important that you think we should know about what happened?" He thinks they already had most of the relevant information, so a general question wouldn't hurt, right? He'd probably think of a better question a few hours later that he should have asked, but oh well. This one would have to do for now.
"Or a message you want us to pass on to a loved one?" Harold quickly asks after Rastrin asks the last question, hoping to slip it in as a way of thanking the dead for their time.
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The night passes uneasily, but the night watch offers no alerts, and while the sky is still bluing from gray to periwinkle in the east, Marcus’ scouts are up, exploring the battlefield.
They return at sunup, as the company starts to break camp, report in brief whispered statements to Marcus. The River Master calls Harold, Shay, and Rastrin to revisit the site with him.
After traversing the same path the four had taken the night before, they come around the last hillock and immediately, more clues become evident. Looking southwest, one sees that the little glen where the delegation was attacked is within view of the Larch Road, which lay a half mile directly down a little valley, the battle site at the little valley’s terminus.
The four walk the little valley’s length, to the visible arm of the Larch Road, and from this new vantage point, discover that one can see the Dessarin River down a slope on its far side. Turning here to peer north, it is evident that the road turns slightly right, while the little valley continues flat in the road’s original direction, bearing slightly left.
“Coming from the south, in heavy rain, poor visibility, the delegation could have thought they were continuing on the Larch Road when instead they were heading into a cul de sac,” Marcos theorizes.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
RASTRIN
After the conversation the night before, Rastrin does his best to fall asleep in his bedroll back in camp. Surprisingly, he passes out rather quickly into a dreamless sleep. Morning seems to come much more quickly than he would have liked, but he eventually escapes the cozy confines of his sleeping roll after only a few minutes of yawning and rubbing his eyes. Standing up and stifling yet another yawn, he sees he’s not alone in being awake. It was a habit of his to alway be out and about when the sun started to rise, and it seemed that it was a habit shared by those of the camp. He goes around and helps break down the camp.
Eventually, Marcus calls him, Shay, and Harold to go follow him. As they head along the trail leading to the skirmish, he keeps to himself for the most part. While he did like being out and about in the mornings, it was too early to be in a social mood.
At Marcus’s theory, Rastrin shrugs. That sounded plausible, though they’re were about a thousand different things that could have taken the delegation the the little clearing.
Speaking up, he says, “I’ve heard stories about priests being able to ask the dead questions. I don't know if it’s an option, but what are the odds we can find a priest in a nearby town that could ask the delegation what happened to them?” It was a bit of a stretch, but it seemed like a good idea to Rastrin.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
Harold
The merchant rises early, and after gathering his equipment, he begins cooking himself some breakfast over the coals remaining from the night before. The smell and sound of cackling bacon urges those nearby to wake from their slumber. In addition to the bacon, he also prepares a few fluffy biscuits that he carefully wraps up before placing in a small pouch on his hip.
After finishing his meal he accompanies Marcus and listens to his theory about the caravan. "So the question is... do we believe the caravan was targeted on purpose? Or do we think that they took a wrong turn and accidentally stumbled into a gathering of Ankhegs and stone armored riders?" Harold asks as he strokes his beard. His eyes then narrow and he he glances towards Rastin and Shay before returning to marcus. "Do any of you have additional information on soldiers wearing stone armor?"
RASTRIN
Rastrin shakes his head at Harold’s question. “I’ve never heard of anything like them.” In fact, he hadn’t even seen the stone-armored figure yesterday that everyone kept talking about. At the time, he had been a bit… distracted.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
SHAY
The morning blurs by rather quickly after everyone arises, and soon Shay finds herself alongside Marcos and the others once again on route to the dell. At the River Master’s questioning, Shay remains silent, unsure of what to add with so little general information to go off of.
Though it helps some when Harold and Rastrin speak their minds, it gives her something to mentally turn over despite her dead silence. “The caravan must’ve been attacked with intent if the missing supplies meant anything, yes?”
At the mention of stone armored riders, Shay perks up. “We’re in the same boat, I didn’t catch sight of any soldiers either.” She addresses his earlier point. “Do you think contacting a priest could work? Dealing with the dead doesn’t always pan out the way people plan.”
Marcos shakes his head no in answer to Harold’s question. “Never.”
The River Master frowns deeply at Rastrin and Shay’s words.
“It is not a task I prefer to undertake. But neither is it a bad idea. I will… put it to Tempus. If the God of War answers my call, then shall the dead speak. There is no need to look beyond the war priest you see before you to accomplish the task. Tempus willing.”
Wit – moving without his usual ease, but moving, thanks to Shay’s ministrations the prior night – and Vaszil, return from having made a circle of the area.
“Tracks,” Vaszil says, “ and drag marks. Leading from the battlefield to this stretch of the road. Then across and down to the river. Old. Three tendays.” He looks to Wit for confirmation, who nods in agreement. “And by the water,” he points down the slope to the bank of the Dessarin, “grooves where keelboats came aground. Picked up passengers, maybe, then pushed off again.”
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
RASTRIN
At mention of the keelboats, Rastrin asks, "Could the marauders have taken prisoners then? Is there a way we can go through the bodies and see who's missing?" He probably wouldn't be very helpful if they were to go and check the bodies as he had no idea about the specific people in the delegation, but it sounded like at least a somewhat decent suggestion in his opinion.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
Vaszil and Marcos exchange a whispered dialogue before Marcos turns to Rastrin. "Only the escort was killed. The bodies of the delegates were not found among the dead."
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
Harold
Harold looks to Shay and Rastrin before looking back to Marcus. "Well... if they have prisoners, then we must track them down. I have my own reasons for wanting to find those stone clad murderers dead... but if they have hostages then we have no choice." The merchant replies with a nod.
SHAY
Shay nods vigorously, “The sooner we locate them the better then, hostages are only useful for a short period of time.” She casts a quick glance in Harold’s direction, curious about his reason for wanting the stone armored group dead, but knowing the time wasn’t appropriate. If he was as adamant about going through with his plan as he seemed, she supposed there had to be a valid reason behind it.
The sun creeps upward, but the temperature seems to drop as Marcos’ lips silently move in prayer to the God of War. A staccato pelting of tiny hailstones quickly crescendos to a roar as a heavy hail clatters off the rocky ground. Then as fast as it swelled it diminishes again to nothing. The sun peeks out behind dramatic clouds as Marcos inhales deeply and rises to his feet.
“Come,” he says, a dark weight groaning around him as he moves and speaks. He heads back to the battlefield. There, he combs the area before finding a decomposing body with slashes on arms, legs, and chest.
“This woman lasted until the end of the battle,” he says, his voice echoing with the same sickening undercurrent that makes Vaszil and Wit squirm. Extending his arm, Marcos beckons the corpse to rise. And rise it does, though held up by what power it is impossible to discern. Not its own animus, for its muscles are rotting flesh.
Maggots swarm and fester through her face, then pull away from her mouth and eyes, where a distant light seems to shine as her voice hisses out, releasing deathly vapors.
“Who calls me back from the halls of Tempus?”
“By Tempus’ name, I am Marcos Varixx, Priest and Soldier. I am loathe to pull you from your glorious rest. I require the five questions promised in ancient pacts.”
“I will answer. Five questions. Then let me be.”
Marcos turns to look at the others. “Now is the time.”
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
RASTRIN
Rastrin fights down a wave of revulsion as the decomposing woman rises. He had heard stories about necromantic warlords using undead in their armies and such, and even though this was an act of divinity, it was still grotesque.
Looking to the others, he starts speaking slowly as if not quite sure if he should be the one asking questions. "What can you tell us about those that attacked you?" It seemed like a decent question to start off with, or at least he hoped it was.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
Harold
Harold watches in a mixture of shock and disgust as the corpse rises and begins to speak. He takes a step backwards and inspects his shoes to ensure none of the corpse maggots had managed to fall onto his clothing. He listens to the response of the corpse after Rastrin asks the first question. The merchant considers what question he would ask next before speaking.
"Do you know where the attackers were planning to go after they were finished with your caravan?" He asks carefully.
SHAY
Unable to look at the risen corpse of the woman head on for more than a few seconds, Shay forces the disgust from her tone and expression to the best of her ability. Following the leads of Rastrin and Harold, she readies her own question.
“Is there anything you recall from before the attack started and how you wound up in this area to begin with?”
The dead woman’s frame shudders slightly almost as if in anger. A dark ooze appears at the corners of her mouth as the maggots continue to swarm around the perimeter of her face and she answers in her raspy, heaving, terrible whisper.
“Those that attacked: humans in armor of stone riding giant ants— or beetles — that burrowed under the earth. A giant figure made of rock and sand and earth. Bugbears. Hobgoblins.”
She pauses, completely inert, until Harold’s question is asked.
“ They did not speak of their plans. But… as I lay dying on the field, bleeding out, I saw they had taken captive the members of the delegation while driving blades – killing blows – through the hearts of my fallen cohort. One was coming for me as I saw them lead away the captives back to the road, the way we had come. Then, this.” One jerking hand grabs the spot on her chest showing where a blade had pierced armor and heart. She seems to stare into nothingness until Shay’s question.
“Before the attack… the rain was heavy,” comes the raking whisper, the noxious foulness of her breath tying your stomachs in knots. “Through magic we learned we were being pursued. We could not see them. We rushed away through the rain, hoping to make it to the Stone Bridge and defend ourselves there. But a mist came up from the river, just at the moment that the road turned. We found ourselves here in this dell, hemmed in, mired in mud and quickly surrounded.
“I have answered three questions. Let me be.”
"Soon," says Marcos. His eyes slip over Shay, Harold, and Rastrin. The River Master is plainly disgusted, and not only at the corpse. He snarls, as if the divine intervention, its effects, the entirety of this moment and his complicity in it goes against his beliefs despite his god's willingness to allow it. Reining in his rage, he says flatly, "Two more. And be quick."
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
SHAY
Having asked the most vital question, Shay shakes her head to decline saying anything more, grateful for a useful task to keep her from taking in any more of Marcos’ heated stare. She moves back a few steps and writes down what she was told in order to keep Anya and Norrin informed. While waiting for a response, Shay makes herself properly look at the corpse of the fallen woman and then again at Marcos.
She didn’t fully understand the man’s anger as he volunteered to reanimate the woman, before long she’d be at rest once more, the way it was intended. More than anything she was incredibly unsettled by the whole exchange and hoped for all of their sakes the questioning wasn’t drawn out in any way.
Harold
Harold listens to the corpse and tries to picture what she was saying in his mind. he closes his eyes and after playing through the story opens his eyes once more. "Did they seem particularly interested in anything in particular? any items or people?" He asks with a frown.
“They fell on us without warning and without mercy,” the gruesome corpse answers. “At first they seemed bent on nothing more than destruction. Taking captives was an afterthought if you ask me.” She is silenced for a time, dry heaving for a few moments before a foot-long, many-legged insect crawls out of her mouth then drops to the earth and wriggles away. “I have never seen a band of brigands harry their prey with more force, nor any company of mercenaries attack with less cause. As for people… they swore oaths in the name of someone called Ogrémoch.”
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
RASTRIN
Ogrémoch, he mouths, silently trying out the unfamiliar word. That was definitely an interesting name. Maybe it was a god he hadn't heard about? There were certainly lots of them running around out there, and the odds of not knowing about one of them was definitely possible. Ogrémoch... He'd have to remember that name, and he racks his memory to see if he had ever heard of that name before.
With only one question left and not knowing quite what to say, he asks the woman, "Is there anything else important that you think we should know about what happened?" He thinks they already had most of the relevant information, so a general question wouldn't hurt, right? He'd probably think of a better question a few hours later that he should have asked, but oh well. This one would have to do for now.
DM- Azalin's Doom
DM- Surviving the Unsurvivable
Harold
"Or a message you want us to pass on to a loved one?" Harold quickly asks after Rastrin asks the last question, hoping to slip it in as a way of thanking the dead for their time.