Lira gives a long sigh of appreciation as she leans back, enjoying the heat and serenity of the Sweat Lodge. She focuses on using this time to let go of all the tension that has built up in her mind and body the past few days, preparing herself to go into cache 3 fresh.

OOC POST:

1) OK each pc has a Tattoo that lasts 1 day. It is active now, and ends at sunset.

2) Each PC that participated in the feast has +10 temporary hit points for the day

3) Each PC that participated in the sweat lodge has +1 con saves (including things such as poison, spells, concentration, etc.) for the day.

4) You have acquired 1 speak with dead scroll.

5) You possess one artifact (ebony statue of Myurr). You believe the cult of the dragon king has the first artifact.

So far, there is no sign of the cultists, but your guess is they are 1/2 day behind. You are uncertain of the status of the Coven of Eternal Winter. Many of them died at the pyramid, but a group of them captured Paevira, some riding on giant weasels.

(Did I miss anything?)

As the festivities of the night wind up, and you see the first traces of light on the horizon, you realize it is time to prepare. Tseren, the lean scout stands at the doorway, ready to take you to the cache. (OOC: You may bring Charlie and the wagon, but he will be left unattended outside, or you can leave him here (1 hours travel).

As you step out of the yurt, you are surprised to see the entire village standing in a line on both sides of a dirt path leading north. As you leave, they wish you well. You see new friends made, Nimka, Baatar, and those you have individually befriended in your time here. Even the elders Temujin, Sukhbaatar, Atticus, and Inauniq are there as you head out of the area with the quiet scout. In the distance, you see what must be Stormy Peak (cache 5) towering over the other mountains. It is covered in snow, although those lower only have a touch of snow.

After an hour's travel, you see what you are looking for. Various structures have been carved out of the mountain face, or built out with stone. Even though it appears to be ancient, it is quite impressive. Tseren stops. "This is where we part, warriors. I will go no further." He points to two square indentations. "The waterfall is just left of these two inset squares and behind the large rectangular temple you see on that second hill. Go up the middle there and then left at the two square structures. May the gods protect you."

Iólinder briefly admired the tattoo after Atticus was finished inking it onto his skin. The image drawn was a bat though not entirely lifelike: the ears and eyes were a bit exaggerated and Iólinder was relatively certain bats did not smile like that. He rubbed the head and felt a little spark of magic flow from his fingertips onto the tattoo. His eyes grew wide with bewilderment and excitement when the flat image slowly but surely began to ripple and fill up until it, quite literally, peeled itself off his skin. Seconds later a chittering, squeaking, fuzzy, furry bat fluttered around his head. To Iólinder it felt like he was eight again and had just opened up his birthday present. He held out his arm. The bat latched onto and tried to wrap its wings around it, almost making it look like an emblem on the armour. Iólinder carefully reached for some of the rations in his backpack and retrieved some of the dried fruit from it.

'I'm going to name you Zazi.' He said and offered some fruit to the bat. 'Welcome to the team, Zazi.' Zazi merely squeaked in between nibbling on the fruit.

----------

The group pooled their knowledge together with what Aisulu told them. Iólinder had a sneaking feeling in the back of his mind that they were missing something, some tiny oversight. It was only when Vydar said:

Quote from Rynn_Elocin >>

"I have a theory... and If I'm correct this cache could very well be the place where Shareella died and resurrected." He seems to stare at nothing as he thinks aloud. "Akharis, the one who supposedly killed Shareella, was  the Sultan of Djarat. Djarat, is the capitol of Kharéan, which is located in a harsh desert. The Sultan wanted to live in a cooler place. So, he made his palace on a mountain. If I'm right, this cache could be that palace."

that some gears began turning in Iólinder's head.

'Building on that, assuming you are correct.' He said. 'Remember that tale from the metal box.' He nodded at Zarbyn. 'The one you brought? Where is it...' Iólinder dug around in his backpack, which by now was the unofficial repository for all of Professor Storm's notes. He pulled out a slightly frumpled piece of paper and smoothed it out. It said "River of Blood" in ominous writing on top.

'If the cache is the palace where Shareella lived, died and resurrected, and we cross-reference this "River of Blood" story with the one Aisulu told, there are some similarities. A cruel man. Beheadings. A dead mother.' He looked up from the paper. 'And a dead child.' His eyes equally lit up with academic exitement and dread. 'Maybe, and that is a tentative maybe because correlation does not imply causation, this child spirit is Shareella's dead child.' He glanced at the paper again and shrugged. 'Assuming this translation is accurate. I do not know much about Djaratian hieroglyphs, I am an Ancient Allansian fellow, but translation is a tricky business. Nuances, idioms, semantics, all that stuff. And the older the language, the more one is prone to guesswork.' He looked at the dark haired human, 'Zarbyn, can you vouch for this Riddel Reaves' linguistic skills?'

Yet Iólinder's mind reeled at the possibility. At the very least he now knew a prime candidate to use the scroll for.

----------

The smell and sight of food hit Iólinder like a punch to the gut. With everything going on in the past hours and day, he had nearly forgotten he had not eaten much during the entire day. When he finally sat down at a table, propped up like a child but he had long since ceased to care, he dropped most decorum a man of his standing would have and eagerly dug in. First he ate to satisfy his need. Afterwards he indulged his wants. He especially took a swing at the sweet stuff and the wine, almost forgetting that, unlike back during he clergical studies, there were no older students that could use divine magic to "heal" a stomach ache and hangover. He was down to his third wedge of cheese topped with berry compote, honey and nuts when Iólinder finally threw in the towel and tagged Zazi in who went to town on the fruitstuff. 

Maybe the mead had gone a bit to his head but a "purification" ritual at a "sweat" lodge sounded just about right to Iólinder after his fifth mug. Or was it his sixth? He definitely was a little bit to the wind because he already halfway down to his skivvies before the notion of towels reached his brain. His sluggish thought process struggled to make the decision for towel or no towel, some good arguments were made for either side, until Lira strolling past naked made the choice for him. 'Well, when in... here.' Iólinder muttered, furiously hoping that he could blame his red cheeks on alcohol and heat.

'Now you be a good girl and guard my clothes okay, Zazi?' He said to the bat already rolled up in what he recognised as his gravy stained shirt and on the verge of falling asleep. 'I'll be back later.' Zazi lazily raised one wing as if in a thumbs-up gesture before burying herself deeper in the food scented clothing.
'You coming, Lev?' Iólinder asked as he finally threw aside the last bit of clothing. He did eventually decide on taking a towel along, just in case.

The heat and moment of respite, while not as effective as divine hair of the dog, did do wonders to combat the onsetting drowsiness of the mead. If he ever found his way back to the clerical academy, Iólinder would seriously try to pitch the idea of a sweat lodge on the holy grounds.

'So, Lira.' He said and tried his best not to look in the half-elf woman's direction. 'You said you met and talked with Shareella, right? What's she like? You know, as a person?'
Normally he would have phrased it quite differently but the mead and sweat were hanging heavy on his mind and body and Iólinder's usual eloquence was out on a temporary holiday.

Hearing Iolinder say his name as he asks a question of him Zarbyn snaps out of whatever daydream he was having and looks at Iolinder.

"What? Oh, Riddel Reaves, yeah he as trustworthy as I am." After a pause, "I don't think he would ever lie but... he can be cryptic or enigmatic at times." After another brief pause, "Can I see that missive I was to deliver to Professor Storm for a minute. There may be some clue hidden in it."

The letter for Storm

Iólinder handed over the piece of paper. 'You were not aware what the missive entailed to?'

"Shareella..." Lira began, her voice thoughtful as she stared at the swirling steam. "When I first met her, she seemed so kind, so...nurturing. She gave me some great stew." Lira tilted her head as she recalled the encounter. "She spoke about family, about belonging. It was exactly what I wanted to hear. She made me feel like I mattered, like I had a purpose..." A look of realization crosses her face.

"Oh, I was going to say before, but we got distracted! Shareella talked about her past a little, but it matched up to Nemset's instead of the Shareella's from the River of Blood story. 'A sultan who loved me gave me this amulet.' I wonder if even her name is a lie."

Amdaeng pets Ning who keeps eyeing the bat with interest, " Wanna go see the waterfall, Ning?"

" You lot ready?"

Responding to Iolinder's question, "No. I was charged with delivering the contents of the small box to Professor Storm and only became aware of it contents when we used the items from her hat to unlock it."

After reading over the letter again, "The stories differ, at least in perspective. One is more an account of Shareella's experience and the Toa-Suo's version seems to be from the daughter's. Despite their differences they both contain beheadings and occurred long ago. Being a vampire of some kind would explain how Shareella survived this long."

"More answers could lie within cache 3." nodding to Amdaeng and the others, "Yes, I am ready."

“Uh…no,” Lev says in response to Iolinder’s inquiry. He sounds partially distracted and perhaps slightly disappointed. However this is quickly covered up as he turns away from the others and follows after Vydar. 

The next day Lev seems somewhat back to his usual self… though he did always seem a little withdrawn, he is clearly trying to refocus himself on the task at hand. When they reach their destination he nods to their guide, “Thank you.” 

Then he looks to his companions, “We need a plan.” He waits to see how the others respond before elaborating. Perhaps they spoke in the sweat lodge last night, if so better to let them speak first since he may not be working with all the information. 

As you ponder any strategy you might have going into the cache and consider warnings from Storms notes, you head up the ridge of the ancient palace, passing the temple and the two square inset areas that the scout Tseren had pointed out to you. The Sultan’s palace, high in the mountains, stands as a haunting relic of forgotten grandeur. Jagged cracks mar its surface, some so deep that the stone has split, revealing the raw, frozen rock beneath. Snow and frost cling to the faded carvings, blurring the once-vibrant floral and geometric patterns.

Following a stream that runs between the two hills on which the structure is built, you spot what you are looking for. 

A massive frozen waterfall almost entirely conceals an arched entrance, but you see a way in.

Lira nods her agreement as well as they approach the frozen waterfall. "I can go a little ahead of everyone once we get inside and scout things out. There are sure to be traps, not to mention natural hazards...I hate to admit it, but the cold resistance this amulet gives me will probably come in handy here."

'So all we can be certain about is that Shareella lies.' Iólinder said a bit disappointed. He felt tired. The food heavy in his stomach combined with the heat began to take their toll. He scooped up his towel, said goodnight to the others while making sure not to look directly at any of them, and got out of the sweat lodge. After a quick drying with his towel, he got dressed. Zazi was vast asleep at this point so Iólinder took care not to disturb her as he gently carried her in his arms on his way to the guest yurt.

The next day his hangover was not as bad as he anticipated. The food must have been a good buffer and sweating it out had done his body well. His mind was still a little bit sluggish but the cold mountain air hitting his face in the morning dispelled any lingering fog. Zazi had apparently decided that the top of Iólinder's head would make for a perfect nest to keep warm and happily squeaked whenever Iólinder fed some fruit to his hair.

'Morning everyone.' Iólinder said while trying to suppres a yawn. 'We get in, get the artefact, get ouuuuuuut.' The yawn would not be stifled. 'Sorry, still waking up. You missed out yesterday, Lev.'
Iólinder filled Lev and Vydar in on what he and the others conversed in the sweat lodge.

The journey to the cache, or palace as it might be, was relatively uneventful. The cache itself was old, carved into the bedrock and frozen over where it was exposed to the element. And, as expected, there was a frozen waterfall acting like a curtain covering an entrance into the structure.

Quote from EmileTherese >>

Lira nods her agreement as well as they approach the frozen waterfall. "I can go a little ahead of everyone once we get inside and scout things out. There are sure to be traps, not to mention natural hazards...I hate to admit it, but the cold resistance this amulet gives me will probably come in handy here."

'Take Zazi with you.' Iólinder untangled the bat from his hair and held her out like a kid showing off their teddybear. 'I'm a little bit fuzzy on the mechanics but I think she and I can communicate wordlessly. In fact, I think I could even link up with her.' His eyes glanced from side to side as he searched for the words to explain. 'This morning I found myself spinning around the room. I had a bit to drink, yes but normally it's the room that spins around you instead of the other way around. In any case, I'd wager she can see in the dark better than you so that's handy.'

Zazi was now hanging upside down from Iólinder's left arm. He held his right index finger up to her face in the same manner a parent or teacher would hold a child's attention. 'Okay, Zazi: you're going on a mission.' He pointed at Lira. 'Listen to what the pretty lady says, don't stray away from her and if you spot anything dangerous, you fly right back out. Got that?'

The bat squeaked and nodded before flying off to flutter around Lira's head. Iólinder wasn't sure whether Zazi understood what he said or if Lira's bigger volume of hair promised a warmer spot to sleep.

Amdaeng watched the preparations, eager to try her new eyes in the dark....

(Who wants to go past the waterfall, Lira and Zazi to start?)

((Yeah, that's fine with me))

"Heh, interesting. I'll be glad for her company." Lira carefully tucks Zazi onto her shoulder, where the bat curls up comfortably. She gives Iólinder a small nod before turning and heading toward the frozen opening, her footsteps light and deliberate. 'Pretty', eh? It's a step up from being some thief they picked up.

As she steps into the icy passage she focuses on the task ahead, her sharp eyes scanning for traps or movement. The faint flutter of Zazi’s wings is a small comfort, a reminder that she isn’t entirely alone in the frozen silence.

Perception/Survival to look for traps/hazards: 10/5 -.-;;

Lira/ Zazi (Other Players, No Peaking), Zazi can also roll perception

"I don't like the look of those holes," Lira remarks to Zazi, remembering the poison dart trap from cache 2.