Investigation (with Advantage): 11 to search the heap the creature collapsed into
Alas, even with several helping hands, any trace of evidence or clues eludes the party. Adults playing in mud; were the situation not so grim, 'twould be a humorous sight.
Quartz takes rhe small piece of vine he cut from the creature and sees it down. Using his druidcraft, he sets it alight. If it doesn't exude great plumes of toxic smoke or explode violently, he'll use his stock to chip it into the heap of vines that was the rm8ssary in an effort to set the pile ablaze, before the weed takes root once more.
(If it burns off, a search of anything left in the ashes should be easier, if whatever might have been found wasn't taken by the flames)
The vines wither and sizzle as the flames touch them. Juices within bubble and foam. But the vine does not explode. It does not eexude poison. It does not react to the flames at all. As a point of fact, it doesn't seem to burn either. Come to think of it, says a voice at the back of the Firbolg's head, was fire ever actually used against the creature when it was 'alive?' Did Faerie Fire count? Certainly something to contend.
Nevertheless, it certainly seems this mass of vegetation and muck is done doing anything, save rotting.
"Oh well, might make decent fertilizer,'" the firbolg shrugs, as a heap kf vegetarian that was once a shoulder sloughs to tbe ground with a splat. "Or not."
"Perhaps we'd best be on our way." Quartz suggests, awkwardly.
Kreas waits at the edge of the clearing. He gives an annoyed look to each of the party, softening slightly at the sight of the tiefling and the halfling. He nods further in, and proceeds ahead. Korbiña knows this path -- it heads back to the shrine Sceilie led her to.
Several moments pass in relative silence. There are no crickets, no sounds of loons in some unfathomable distance. This is a deadly silence, an ill omen to be sure.Then, trees make way for a new clearing. Korbiña has seen it before. Strange stone markers, physical offerings of food, gold and wine, and a large stone tablet, a fresco of a large golden Dragonborn on its surface. Kreas crosses the strange site and stops at the other end, almost as if to predict that the party would want to explore the foreboding shrine. He seems further annoyed, though not without understanding. Sceilie even stops to speak a quick prayer before the fresco, possibly to the others' chagrin.
Korbiña held Sceilie's hand during their walk and continues to do so... then asks Kreas "Where do you believe would be a good spot to rest?" holding her hurting ribs, slightly out of breath already...
Kreas looks at Korbiña, noting her involuntary wince. She notices his features are a bit colder than before. He strides up to her and lifts her shirt slightly.
His voice uncharacteristically blunt, he says, "Show me where."
"Tch."He gives a dismissive click of his teeth as he grabs her bruised flesh. The pain is immediate, blinding even. But he rearranges her ribs enough that they line up as they did. He then mutters a few words under his breath, hands still curled around the side of her stomach. She notices he's blushing slightly. If it weren't for the hot pain in her side, this would be very... awkward. [Casts Lesser Restoration]
Moments later, Korbiña feels a ravenous itch under the ranger's hands as the bones beneath her skin knead back together. The pain fades, but doesn't subside completely. As he pulls his hands away, she sees in him an expression of pained regret. Perhaps his wasn't just simple infatuation. By the time he stands back up, his face is gone cold again. No. Determined, maybe? It's certainly different from how he seemed at the village, before all this.
"Any others?"He checks on Thaux, but determines the man is just very tired, maybe slightly battered. He examines Lelantus for a brief time, the same look on him as when helped Korbiña. Nothing. Same for Quartz.
Asher, however, seems to have cracked something himself. With the Dragonborn, Kreas is much less accommodating. He undoes a button on Asher's shirt, and sticks both hands in against his skin, feeling around. The poor sorcerer is fit to protest this invasion of space, only for the ranger to give him a look reminiscent of "grow up." After a few seconds of medical fondling, he finds two points on Asher's skin. One is a swollen bruise on his inner thigh -- negligible, from the feel of it. The other is a dark spot on his chest -- a cracked sternum, likely from getting knocked about. One more [Lesser Restoration] spell, uncomfortable grope and awkward stare later, and he feels significant relief in his chest, though the same itch permeates him that Korbiña is dealing with herself, likely a side-effect of bones mending.
"If nothing else, might we proceed...?"He seems both coarse and anxious.
After a few more moments of awkward silence and a blushing bundle of bronze scales with social insecurity, Kreas nods to the other end of the clearing."Come. Thou needst be away before the others arrive. Thou doest not need be here when our punishment is begun."
With that, he turns and begins leading once more, graven of face and apparently with good reason.
Korbiña nods to Asher "Very much so, but let's follow Kreas. He's an expert of the local area and will certainly find us a good spot away from..." she gnashes her teeth a bit "the punishment..." she grumbles and sighs at the same time, or so ut seems, holding Sceilie's hand and often casting her eyes to meet those of the pink scaled wonderful being that deserves to be saved from any punishment. As they walk Korbiña feels visions of a small workshop rise up in her mind, Sceilie smithing away while Korbiña studies and works on solving Artificer secrets...
It doesn't take long for the party to reach their destination: a simple stone pedestal, one not unlike that which they'd used to arrive here. The wood beyond it is dark, almost black as the most abyssal hole. Nothing can be seen beyond, and no sound seems to emanate from its depths. The area around the pedestal is uncharacteristically warm. There is a scent of something earthy about.
Kreas turns to Quartz."Thine hands. Doth they bear our Elder's codex? If so, please seeketh Winter's Wort amongst its pages."He seems to be asking about a plant. A soft rumble of thunder is heard in the distance. Uneasy, Kreas adds,"please be with haste."
Korbiña watches... holds Sceilie's hand and remains silent as she has some kind of revelation...
... then fishes out one of the vials with the black powder from her pouch showing it to Kreas "I believe this is somehow related to this Winter Wart... can you tell me what if is exactly though, and how it can be used?"
"Winter's wort." notes the firbolg, "surely." Quartz finds the book the elder gave him and sits in the ground, legs crossed, and begins to search the pages. "Hmmm" he thinks as he perishes the contents of the tome. "Yes, I think I have it. 'Winters Wort....'," he announces, upon finding the sought passage.
(Should I roll for something. This isn't CoC: there's so no 'library use' stat, but let me know)
[Anytime you use the book, you roll for the needed subject. You're never going to not find it, but nailing the roll means you find it immediately. Failing it means essentially leafing through every page, trying to find the right one -- as slow as possible. For all entries, the DC is Nature 10. For this one, you get a freebie]
Korbiña's assumptions are admirable, but still just assumptions, quickly proving false. The section Quartz finds on Winter's Wort is... extensive. Diagrams, growth and gestation periods, Alchemical properties, even lists of natural and propagated variants. They're all cataloged in various hands, decades, possibly centuries of separate elders, leaving research notes and botanical experience. The section Quartz needs is but a brief caption in the far corner: it's a picture of a small rust-colored plant, shaped curiously like a toadstool. The caption reads as follows: 'Winter's Wort, also called Warm Cress; The leaves and stalk produceth a strong heat, reminiscent of being held in a warm embrace, whenst in proximity...' the caption goes on to list various soups and medical broths that use it to stay heated. A caveat near the bottom, however, catches his eye: ' The roots, though cool to the touch, produceth a strong discharge if chance impels it burned. Curiously, an established grove outside our hamlet denotes ritual purpose in this property. Curious, would thoust not say, my large friend?' Ah, tis Serescal's words. A final message, perhaps?
Peeking from the book, it appears the party is standing in the aforementioned Grove. What was previously assumed by the Firbolg to be several plump fungi now ring clear to be the necessary ingredient; but to what, exactly? Another long rumble echoes in the distance, this time accompanied by a very distant cackle.
Korbiña nods and helps with the gathering. "As wrong as my former assumption was, here a pedestal too and maybe we need a heat source to pass out of this place like we needed to get in?"
Kreas nods, seemingly a tad more relieved. "He said thou wouldst know what to do, the old Scale. I find myself relieved at that." He smiles, the first in a while. He flashes Korbiña and Lelantus his typical yearning eye, then surprisingly Asher as well. He opens his mouth once more to speak: "Mayhaps, might I be permitted... permitted to joi--" his voice cuts out as this short-lived relief of his ends with more cackling in the distance. Closer this time, echoing in the thicket like some malevolent spirit drifting through the night. Another rumble, too. That's not thunder.
The village hunter's smile vanishes. He draws his bow. He speaks lamentedly, a somber whisper from his usual candor: "Thou shouldst be away. Return from whence thou camest."
"Leave."
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Alas, even with several helping hands, any trace of evidence or clues eludes the party. Adults playing in mud; were the situation not so grim, 'twould be a humorous sight.
The vines wither and sizzle as the flames touch them. Juices within bubble and foam. But the vine does not explode. It does not eexude poison. It does not react to the flames at all. As a point of fact, it doesn't seem to burn either. Come to think of it, says a voice at the back of the Firbolg's head, was fire ever actually used against the creature when it was 'alive?' Did Faerie Fire count? Certainly something to contend.
Nevertheless, it certainly seems this mass of vegetation and muck is done doing anything, save rotting.
"Oh well, might make decent fertilizer,'" the firbolg shrugs, as a heap kf vegetarian that was once a shoulder sloughs to tbe ground with a splat. "Or not."
"Perhaps we'd best be on our way." Quartz suggests, awkwardly.
Kreas waits at the edge of the clearing. He gives an annoyed look to each of the party, softening slightly at the sight of the tiefling and the halfling. He nods further in, and proceeds ahead. Korbiña knows this path -- it heads back to the shrine Sceilie led her to.
Several moments pass in relative silence. There are no crickets, no sounds of loons in some unfathomable distance. This is a deadly silence, an ill omen to be sure.Then, trees make way for a new clearing. Korbiña has seen it before. Strange stone markers, physical offerings of food, gold and wine, and a large stone tablet, a fresco of a large golden Dragonborn on its surface. Kreas crosses the strange site and stops at the other end, almost as if to predict that the party would want to explore the foreboding shrine. He seems further annoyed, though not without understanding. Sceilie even stops to speak a quick prayer before the fresco, possibly to the others' chagrin.
Korbiña held Sceilie's hand during their walk and continues to do so... then asks Kreas "Where do you believe would be a good spot to rest?" holding her hurting ribs, slightly out of breath already...
Kreas looks at Korbiña, noting her involuntary wince. She notices his features are a bit colder than before. He strides up to her and lifts her shirt slightly.
His voice uncharacteristically blunt, he says, "Show me where."
Korbiña smiles at him and shows her blue and green ribcage of busted ribs. "Can you help with this? If not, I just need some goid rest to recover."
"Tch." He gives a dismissive click of his teeth as he grabs her bruised flesh. The pain is immediate, blinding even. But he rearranges her ribs enough that they line up as they did. He then mutters a few words under his breath, hands still curled around the side of her stomach. She notices he's blushing slightly. If it weren't for the hot pain in her side, this would be very... awkward. [Casts Lesser Restoration]
Moments later, Korbiña feels a ravenous itch under the ranger's hands as the bones beneath her skin knead back together. The pain fades, but doesn't subside completely. As he pulls his hands away, she sees in him an expression of pained regret. Perhaps his wasn't just simple infatuation. By the time he stands back up, his face is gone cold again. No. Determined, maybe? It's certainly different from how he seemed at the village, before all this.
"Any others?" He checks on Thaux, but determines the man is just very tired, maybe slightly battered. He examines Lelantus for a brief time, the same look on him as when helped Korbiña. Nothing. Same for Quartz.
Asher, however, seems to have cracked something himself. With the Dragonborn, Kreas is much less accommodating. He undoes a button on Asher's shirt, and sticks both hands in against his skin, feeling around. The poor sorcerer is fit to protest this invasion of space, only for the ranger to give him a look reminiscent of "grow up." After a few seconds of medical fondling, he finds two points on Asher's skin. One is a swollen bruise on his inner thigh -- negligible, from the feel of it. The other is a dark spot on his chest -- a cracked sternum, likely from getting knocked about. One more [Lesser Restoration] spell, uncomfortable grope and awkward stare later, and he feels significant relief in his chest, though the same itch permeates him that Korbiña is dealing with herself, likely a side-effect of bones mending.
"If nothing else, might we proceed...?" He seems both coarse and anxious.
asher rebuttons his shirt shakily " thank you verrry muuuch " he stammers out feeling uncomfortable with the sudden physical contact
After a few more moments of awkward silence and a blushing bundle of bronze scales with social insecurity, Kreas nods to the other end of the clearing. "Come. Thou needst be away before the others arrive. Thou doest not need be here when our punishment is begun."
With that, he turns and begins leading once more, graven of face and apparently with good reason.
" lets go we need to find some where to set up camp , we need to rest and decide what to do next "
Korbiña nods to Asher "Very much so, but let's follow Kreas. He's an expert of the local area and will certainly find us a good spot away from..." she gnashes her teeth a bit "the punishment..." she grumbles and sighs at the same time, or so ut seems, holding Sceilie's hand and often casting her eyes to meet those of the pink scaled wonderful being that deserves to be saved from any punishment. As they walk Korbiña feels visions of a small workshop rise up in her mind, Sceilie smithing away while Korbiña studies and works on solving Artificer secrets...
It doesn't take long for the party to reach their destination: a simple stone pedestal, one not unlike that which they'd used to arrive here. The wood beyond it is dark, almost black as the most abyssal hole. Nothing can be seen beyond, and no sound seems to emanate from its depths. The area around the pedestal is uncharacteristically warm. There is a scent of something earthy about.
Kreas turns to Quartz. "Thine hands. Doth they bear our Elder's codex? If so, please seeketh Winter's Wort amongst its pages." He seems to be asking about a plant. A soft rumble of thunder is heard in the distance. Uneasy, Kreas adds, "please be with haste."
[If we don't hear from him by tonight, I'll kick things along]
Korbiña watches... holds Sceilie's hand and remains silent as she has some kind of revelation...
... then fishes out one of the vials with the black powder from her pouch showing it to Kreas "I believe this is somehow related to this Winter Wart... can you tell me what if is exactly though, and how it can be used?"
"Winter's wort." notes the firbolg, "surely." Quartz finds the book the elder gave him and sits in the ground, legs crossed, and begins to search the pages. "Hmmm" he thinks as he perishes the contents of the tome. "Yes, I think I have it. 'Winters Wort....'," he announces, upon finding the sought passage.
(Should I roll for something. This isn't CoC: there's so no 'library use' stat, but let me know)
[Anytime you use the book, you roll for the needed subject. You're never going to not find it, but nailing the roll means you find it immediately. Failing it means essentially leafing through every page, trying to find the right one -- as slow as possible. For all entries, the DC is Nature 10. For this one, you get a freebie]
Korbiña's assumptions are admirable, but still just assumptions, quickly proving false. The section Quartz finds on Winter's Wort is... extensive. Diagrams, growth and gestation periods, Alchemical properties, even lists of natural and propagated variants. They're all cataloged in various hands, decades, possibly centuries of separate elders, leaving research notes and botanical experience. The section Quartz needs is but a brief caption in the far corner: it's a picture of a small rust-colored plant, shaped curiously like a toadstool. The caption reads as follows: 'Winter's Wort, also called Warm Cress; The leaves and stalk produceth a strong heat, reminiscent of being held in a warm embrace, whenst in proximity...' the caption goes on to list various soups and medical broths that use it to stay heated. A caveat near the bottom, however, catches his eye: ' The roots, though cool to the touch, produceth a strong discharge if chance impels it burned. Curiously, an established grove outside our hamlet denotes ritual purpose in this property. Curious, would thoust not say, my large friend?' Ah, tis Serescal's words. A final message, perhaps?
Peeking from the book, it appears the party is standing in the aforementioned Grove. What was previously assumed by the Firbolg to be several plump fungi now ring clear to be the necessary ingredient; but to what, exactly? Another long rumble echoes in the distance, this time accompanied by a very distant cackle.
"Well, I suppose we should gather some kf these, given the advice in the text. They could prove useful" Quartz notes
(Skill check to gather these? Guessing survival, adjust as needed.) 15
Korbiña nods and helps with the gathering. "As wrong as my former assumption was, here a pedestal too and maybe we need a heat source to pass out of this place like we needed to get in?"
Kreas nods, seemingly a tad more relieved. "He said thou wouldst know what to do, the old Scale. I find myself relieved at that." He smiles, the first in a while. He flashes Korbiña and Lelantus his typical yearning eye, then surprisingly Asher as well. He opens his mouth once more to speak: "Mayhaps, might I be permitted... permitted to joi--" his voice cuts out as this short-lived relief of his ends with more cackling in the distance. Closer this time, echoing in the thicket like some malevolent spirit drifting through the night. Another rumble, too. That's not thunder.
The village hunter's smile vanishes. He draws his bow. He speaks lamentedly, a somber whisper from his usual candor: "Thou shouldst be away. Return from whence thou camest."
"Leave."