After seeing his trusted steed slashed and rend, Frodrick had a ping of fear sweep through his heart. They had shared many battles together, most against measly goblinoids. He had figured that the two of them would do fine a fight against an unthinking animal, but such was not the case. It was not the first time she had taken a serious wound, but it was the first that she had almost passed on.

A new form of humility swept over Frodrick. He would have to be more considerate of the enemy threat before rushing in – an obvious lesson that should have been learned long ago. The dwarf also wondered where that battle lust came from. He had not felt such a surge of violence since he was a foot soldier. That would also have to be addressed in the near future.

As for the bear – it all happened so fast, and Frodrick did not really know how to react to it. So he simply muttered “Damn magic users.”

When Jargon Hooves weakly drank from the gleaming pool, a burden was lifted from the old dwarf’s shoulders. Her wounds were miraculously healed and the danger to her life was gone. Looking at the pool, Frodrick turned to his companions. “Does anyone understand what in the nine hells happened here? What happened to the bear skin? Why did it turn into a man? Who was he? And is this pool one big healing potion?”

After a time, Frodrick pointed to the cave. “Do ye think there might be anything of value in there? I know this be a temple and it wouldn’t be too good to go looting from Ol’ One Eye, but it be abandoned. We also might be needin’ anything of use in these parts. Anyone against searchin’ the innards of this place?”

---

That night…
Frodrick sat next to Miguel as the camp fire blazed. Taking his pipe out and his tobacco, he started to smoke as he spoke to the human.

“I had heard your words in regards to the bear… but did not recognize them in the heat of the moment. Sorry that your words were not reflected upon before I acted. Some desire to fight blew out’o me and I ignored everything else. Can you forgive an ol’ fool’s error?”

“Does anyone understand what in the nine hells happened here? What happened to the bear skin? Why did it turn into a man? Who was he? And is this pool one big healing potion?”

After a time, Frodrick pointed to the cave. “Do ye think there might be anything of value in there? I know this be a temple and it wouldn’t be too good to go looting from Ol’ One Eye, but it be abandoned. We also might be needin’ anything of use in these parts. Anyone against searchin’ the innards of this place?”
------------------------------------------------------------

Giles rose from his seat on the step with a small sigh walking down to stand a few feet from the dwarf to address him and pointing his still glowing sword back at the cave.

"Erastil's followers are a simple bunch I doubt even in its glory that this temple held much, but after being inside it I can assure you its nothing more then the dwelling of a bear with the words "they have won" etched into the wall by human hand, I couldn't tell you what it means, in terms of what has happened here, we have laid a long possibly cursed soul to rest and the body was returned to ash as it once came who he was we never know but from what I glanced and could guess of his age, he's been here a lifetime or more. As for the pool and its healing properties"

Giles moved from the dwarf to the water and knelt down near it and after speaking a few words and waving a faintly glowing hand over it (cast detect magic) he stood once more.

"The pools enchanted more then likely given the effect we've seen to be one of a curative nature, though that's hard to see I suppose, theoretically I suppose it would have something to do with the temple and god of worship but without a more solid knowledge of the area its a mere shot in the dark so to speak, the water is essentially a healing elixir though I have to wonder"

Taking his sword Giles makes a slit in his hand (-1 slash dmg )enough to draw blood then cupping some water and waiting a moment he drinks, to no effect on the wound, then crouching down lowly and sipping directly from the pond the wound heals over ( +1 heal)

" As I expected the spells effects are localized at the source, take it away and it useless all be it refreshing water"

Zeran watched as the bear turned human then poofed and was blown away scattered to the four winds for his final resting place. He took a moment, simply watching his companions as they continued their business about the area. "Huh, that honestly has to be the strangest thing I've seen so far." The Pirate Mused scratching his chin a bit in thought. He listened to Gile's report on both the cave and the water nodding. "Sounds handy, I'll make a note of it on the map, when we get thing settled we can try and convert this into a friendlier temple, perhaps one people will visit. The water will be a tremendous boon provided we don't drink it dry."

Holstering his weapon for now he sat himself on the edge and watched the horse then the dwarf, hoping both were alright. "Don't either of you go dying on us yet, we still need you and to be honest? I've grown to like you a fair bit Froderick, you and Jargon make an excellent team, saved my ass once already." He cracked a small smile, sincere in his words.

Either it was the place, or the tranquility that had settled over but Zeran felt at ease, at peace not tempted to wise crack or joke for once.

Miguel jumped away when Jargon came to. He didn’t want to get too close to an angry horse just waking up. After Frodrick calmed her down, he went in to cast another healing spell on her only to see her already healing up at the pool.

The bard poked the water with a finger. “Well, that’s interesting.” He looked around the freshly dusted shrine grounds. “Phew, what a wind.”

He watched as Giles ran his experiments with the magic water. “We should ask Jhod what he thinks about all this. I bet he’d know a thing or two about what’s going on here. It’s his god, after all.”

It looked like everyone was doing alright now, despite the panic of a moment ago. “Y’know, that wasn’t so bad after all. And look, saved a dude! Probably. We’re helping!” He put on a bright enthusiastic smile.

(That Night)
Miguel smiled warmly to Frodrick’s apology. “Between you and me, one old fool to another, we gotta stick together. Don’t worry about it. Besides, it all turned out in the end. Just now we’re a little wiser and we know a little better.” Miguel winked at Frodrick. “Just a little, though, or else there’d be no adventure left. “

“I just wonder what that old man’s story was. There’s so many unsolved mysteries out here, it’d be nice if we could actually figure one or two of them out.”

Exploration & Mapping
29-30 Desnus
Hexes: C4 +25XP Each
The party carefully marked the location of the hidden temple on their map and continued their travels. They were already beginning to make their return route, with just one more stop along the south bank of the Thorn to map the entire northern reaches of the Narlmarches.

(30 Desnus)
Around midday the party recognised that the area of the forest they were in was roughly the same area that they had first been plagued by the laughing spirits' mischief, only on the opposite side of the river. With any luck, the natural barrier of the river would provide them with enough physical distance to avoid attracting their notice once more.

They had not begun to fathom the trouble that awaited them.

An hour later the party was alerted by a great bellowing roar—but unlike the depredations of the tricksters, this one sounded from the depths of the forest, in the area of a mile away. The sound returned again almost half an hour after the first, but from a different direction. A third rang out, much closer than the first two, again from another direction.

Despite the likelihood of this being another prank, none of the adventurers had the luxury of assuming these strange, roaring calls were mere figments and not actually the hunting calls of a pack of monstrous creatures on the prowl. This possibility kept the party's nerves on edge for another half hour, coiling the tension tighter.

The fourth event set off the release of energy. Behind the wagon some 60' a shambler similar to the one they encountered over a month ago appeared on the path suddenly, stomping out of the bushes and stopping to unleash another bellowing roar, its mess of vines quivering with the force.

Zeran did not hesitate. This time there was no bear trap in the path to prevent him from setting the horses running at once, and so he did.

With enough of a head start, the party lost sight of the shambler in moments. The riders in the wagon held on as Zeran took them for a wild ride around the twists and bends in the forest.

Just as they began to hope they had lost the monster, though, a sudden flurry of motion from the bushes directly in front of them revealed another shambling vine monster. Zeran deftly guided the horses in a sharp turn, the monster bellowing as they passed.

More concerned with what lay behind him at the moment, Zeran did not see until almost the last possible moment where this new trail they had turned onto led—a watering path down to the river where animals could slake their thirst.

The pirate tugged on the reins, but it was no use at this point. The horses slid along the bank as they veered to the right. The momentum of the wagon itself, combined with a seemingly unnaturally slick riverbank, dragged the whole affair sliding half backwards through the thorn bushes that gave the river its name and into the water itself.

Frodrick, bringing up the rear, managed to avoid a similar fate thanks only to riding his own horse. As he reared back on Jargon's back, he saw the greased sheen across the river bank, broken up by the divots created by the passage of the wagon's wheels.

Through the ordeal the wagon's horses managed to keep their footing, but despite Zeran's urges they could not budge the wagon, now firmly entrenched in the soft riverbed. There was no hope for escape any longer.

The bellowing roar drew rapidly closer, until the shambler burst from the trees, bearing down on them.

The wagon riders braced for impact as they reached for their weapons... only for the massive creature simply to pass through them harmlessly, running across the top of the water as if it was entirely weightless.

Like applause after a stirring performance, laughter rang out from the trees on the bank. One more time the forest creatures had received their jollies at the party's expense.

But there was another member of the audience this time.

“Oi!” A female voice cried out from behind them—their behind of course now being steadfastly pointed into rather than away from the river.

“Just what do you think yer doin' coming in here and making a ruckus in my river?!” Floating a short ways upstream was a small creature, humanoid in form, but with green skin and dark green hair. She couldn't have been more than four foot tall, even with most of her body distorted under the water, and she did not look pleased with what she saw.

Miguel's eyes widened. “Hey, d'you know what that is? She's a nixie—a type of fey that live in the water. They usually prefer to live far away from humanoid settlements”

The nixie was not impressed. “Well isn't that just great? Do you think it's any wonder why, ya big mud monkeys!” She flapped a webbed hand at the wagon in a gesture of contempt.

Frodrick 22/22 –
Jargon 19/19 –
Giles 19/19 – 20 bolts
Kyrie 21/21 –
Miguel 17/17 – 20 arrows
Zeran 19/19 – () 21 bullets

(The nixie is angry, but seems non-hostile and is apparently unarmed. Since the attacks of the shamblers were apparently all illusions, there is no initiative order for any battle at this moment. Other than proximity there does not seem to be any relation to the laughing pranksters.)

[Backpost]

When Kyrie had knelt beside the fallen Jargon, she thought she was prepared to help stop the bleeding. Yet, as she had worked hastily, when she pressed the wounds to try to subdue the flow, the blood just kept leaking from the bandages. Something had been done wrong. What was it?

Before she had the opportunity to rectify her mistake, Miguel's energy poured into the fallen horse, and she quickly regained both breath and life. That was good, yet Kyrie couldn't help but feel that she should've been able to stabilize Jargon's wounds. The farmer didn't have too many marketable skills, yet her ability at farming and first aid were things she did feel proud of. If anything, it was just proof that she was still learning. Maybe only an apprentice nurse.

Afterwards, she didn't feel that she had too much to offer the older warrior in terms of encouragement or advice. Frodrick had shown before that he was more than capable of making decisions and stuck with them, and it felt weird trying to find something of that sort of nature to give to someone who had seen more years than her, when she was nearly the youngest in the group.

Kyrie did, however, doubly check on Jargon's health later on, to make sure there didn't appear to be any malign side effects of the water.


* * *

"Blasted weeds." Kyrie's eyes narrowed as she looked back at the shambler chasing the wagon, even as Zeran steered them away. A curious reaction for Kyrie, given her nature, but in her mind, this was round two, and this time, she was (at least a bit) stronger. She drew her shield at the ready, trying to keep herself steady with the wagon's movement. Yet, there was something a bit off about the whole thing. In the first encounter, the shambler had grabbed the wagon. This one made no move to do so. It was just pursuing.

So preoccupied facing the back, trying to keep an eye out for the shamblers or where they might strike from, Kyrie was nearly thrown out when the wagon suddenly turned and they crashed into the riverbank.

If that wasn't enough, the shambler had caught up to them. Heart pounding in her ears, Kyrie raised her shield defiantly, only for the shambler to pass through the entire group. The ringing laughter afterwards brought her hand to meet her forehead.

Yet, it turned out, the situation was different, being as it wasn't just them and their mischievous pursuers.

“Oi!” A female voice cried out from behind them—their behind of course now being steadfastly pointed into rather than away from the river.

“Just what do you think yer doin' coming in here and making a ruckus in my river?!” Floating a short ways upstream was a small creature, humanoid in form, but with green skin and dark green hair. She couldn't have been more than four foot tall, even with most of her body distorted under the water, and she did not look pleased with what she saw.

Miguel's eyes widened. “Hey, d'you know what that is? She's a nixie—a type of fey that live in the water. They usually prefer to live far away from humanoid settlements”

The nixie was not impressed. “Well isn't that just great? Do you think it's any wonder why, ya big mud monkeys!” She flapped a webbed hand at the wagon in a gesture of contempt.
Kyrie rubbed her forehead. On the one hand, it was nice to meet a different kind of these 'fey' that seemed to be mentioned now and then. On the other, this was definitely not the ideal sort of meeting.

Recognizing the fact that they effectively intruded on her home, Kyrie gave a bow towards the Nixie, "Please forgive us. We honestly didn't mean to intrude. We thought we were being chased, but it seems it was just another joke on us, played by some other residents in the forest that seem to have taken an interest in us. You could probably hear their laughing."

30 Desnus
Hex C4; Thorn River
Narlmarches
The nixie crosses her arms with one eyebrow raised in an almost comically skeptical expression.
“Well if those jokers are giving you sods so much trouble, why don't you just make them cut it out?”

Kyrie shook her head, “They don't show themselves. More to the point, they know the forest very well - if we tried to look for them, they'd probably be a step ahead the whole time... however...”

Kyrie smacked her hand to her face. “... None of us have tried actually asking them to stop. I mean, it might not work, and they're always hiding so you can't be sure you're talking to them... Heck we can't even be sure if that laughter shows where they are, or if they're just making the sound come from there.”

“Jeez, you guys are thick. That's not going to work at all if you can't even find them. Don't you know anything?” The nixie dove under the water's surface and came back up a couple yards closer.

“If you want to make 'em stop pranking you, you gotta give them a token to show your appreciation of their skills. Any ol' thing will do, really, but especially a bit o' something shiny, or something sweet to eat. Fermented or magical drinks work too.”

The green-skinned fey dove under again before any comment could be made, disappearing seemingly for the last time—until she appeared much further down stream. “Now git your fat behinds outta my river before I have to get my cousins. All forty-seven of them!”

The fey disappeared for the last time, going on her way. Despite all her protests and insults, the Greenbelt got the strange sense that the nixie had grown somewhat fond of them. At least, in the way one grows fond of a pathetic, so-ugly-its-cute creature inspires a certain level of sympathetic pity.

With a bit of effort the party was able to drag the wagon out of the river mud without further incident. The river bank was no longer greased with fairy magic, so getting traction under the horses' hooves was not a problem.

Travelling
31 Desnus-2 Sarenith
Hexes: C4 – B5
(30 Desnus)
The party finished their mapping in the area and settled down for the night to camp. Miguel found an open spot a little ways from the camp and set his potion down. After a moment's thought he decided the whole thing needed sprucing up a bit. Make it presentable.

Kyrie saw him laying small stones in a circle around the potion vial and realized that he had the answer to the question that had been buzzing in her mind. The hedge paladin offered her help and between the two of them they created an excellent spread.

Set on a bed of green leaves Kyrie left a small pile of blackberries that she had picked from the brambles on the river bank earlier, with Miguel's potion set in the centre. Their task done they returned to the campfire and settled in to await the results of their efforts.
Diplomacy Check 12 + 7 + 5-(circumstance) + 2 = 26
(31 Desnus)
At some point in the night, though none could say when, the fairies must have descended upon the bribe offered and devoured the whole thing, or else carted the leftovers off to some nest somewhere. At any rate, the bribe must have at least worked for the night, since their waking was undisturbed by missing clothing or poison ivy in the bedrolls.

The rest of the day, too, passed as if either the fairies had been pacified by the tribute. Or at least, it was that or they were preparing something even bigger to one-up their latest prank. This was not a comforting thought, but the party tried not to dwell on it.

They crossed the Thorn ford where near the site of the old bandit camp again, and continued northeast to home. They made camp again for the evening without being disturbed, but the fairies had one last encounter planned for the party.

Shortly after supper, the forest suddenly burst with the sound of two high-pitched cheering voices. Handfuls of acorns rained down like confetti around the camp, but not quite aimed at the party. Almost at once the campfire flashed a brilliant explosion of colourful lights, blinding everyone in the area.

“Hooray!” “Hooray!”

The cheers continued the whole while the party blinked away the shapes imprinted on their retinas, circling above the camp. When the company regained their vision, the campfire was gone, extinguished in the magical crafting that had caused it to flare up. Instead the area was lit with soft glowing spell lights similar to the ones Miguel could call forth.

“Allow us to introduce ourselves,” a disembodied female voice announced from the spot where the fire used to be. “I am the magnificent Tyg-Titter-Tut, and this is my lovely assistant and companion, Perlivash the Cunning.”

A second voice, centred in the same area, male, spoke up, “We wanted to thank you biggenses for being such fine sports and for your thoughtful gifts.”

“As a reward for putting up with us, we'd thought we'd help you with your game, with the map you're making. We know aaallll about the area around here and maybe we could tell you about something you didn't see,” said Tyg.

“Were you the ones who kicked out the mean biggenses that used to live around here?” Perlivash's voice eagerly cut in, “Are you going to throw the lot of them out?”

At last the constant chatter quelled to an expectant silence. While none in the party could see the two, it was no stretch of the imagination to guess that they were eagerly waiting to see how they would be welcomed.

Frodrick 22/22 –
Jargon 19/19 –
Giles 19/19 – 20 bolts
Kyrie 21/21 –
Miguel 17/17 – 20 arrows
Zeran 19/19 – () 21 bullets

2 Sarenith
Oleg's Trading Post
South Brevic Borderlands
As the Greenbelt party exited the forest, the full swing of early summer was already in effect. Without the benefit of the shade of the trees, the sun beat down. The solstice was less than a month away and the weather was definitely on an upward turn.

As per usual, the party arrived at Oleg's late in the afternoon. Oleg seemed in good spirits as he greeted them, inquiring if they'd found and done battle with that great beastie, Tuskgutter.

When Jhod received the news that the temple he sought had been discovered, the balding middle-aged man was almost overwhelmed. “This is it,” he murmered to himself, “This is the task set before me.”

When he recovered, he addressed Frodrick. “Please, I must go to this temple. The next time you set out will you take me to the site of the shrine? I can only offer my spellcasting services as a priest of Erastil, which I do, though I will need time to work on temple, until which time I will need remain on its grounds.”

(Later)
Later, Giles almost earned himself a punch in the face as he prepared to inquire about the dead trapper, caught under his own deadfall.

“Breeg, you filthy lying cur, you still owe me, and don't you think I've forgotten just because you've been hidin' your slimy craven arse away fer two month! I oughta take my payment outta yer hide!”

All the way back to Olegs Giles had remained silent in contemplations, he had a plan in his head aside from conversing more with Jhod about the temple at some point but to discover more about the dead man. Back at Olegs Giles hung back outside only to enter a few moments later having used his magic's to alter his form to that of the fallen trapper taking some liberties to make him look less dead, he walked slowly to the tables trying to keep a somewhat low profile before being abruptly grabbed on the shoulder and spun around to be face to face with one of the trappers whom had been sitting to the side.

“Breeg, you filthy lying cur, you still owe me, and don't you think I've forgotten just because you've been hidin' your slimy craven arse away fer two month! I oughta take my payment outta yer hide!”
Giles hesitated for a moment not knowing how "Breeg" sounded or indeed what money was owed before speaking in a rough and horse voice

"An wut is it I owe ya money for!?"

He snapped pushing the man away slightly and staring him down definatly

“Please, I must go to this temple. The next time you set out will you take me to the site of the shrine? I can only offer my spellcasting services as a priest of Erastil, which I do, though I will need time to work on temple, until which time I will need remain on its grounds.”
Frodrick puffed up his chest and crossed his arms sternly as he looked up at the slender priest. "Tell me what it is ya intend to do there, and what yer calling be. If it can wait then all the better for us - we gots a bunch o' bandits out there along with some other mighty and ferocious beasts to slay n' flay."

At this point the dwarf coughed a bit. "But of course if it be a pressing matter on yer concious mayhaps we can arange to get your skrawny hide up to that set o' stones that be covered in moss and man-bear feces. There still be grounds in that area that need a good thorough look about to the south anyways."

(Jhod)
The priest rubbed his amulet, a small pair of stag horns in the shape of a knocked bow, pointed down, absentmindedly.

“When I came to this land I heard rumour of a lost temple dedicated to my god, Erastil, left behind when the Taldan colonists were driven from the Stolen Lands long ago. It is my personal mission to recover this lost outpost of civilization and restore it to functionality. This is the task that has been set before me. Just as you seek to drive the monsters from this land, I seek to push back the encroachment of the savage and monstrous in my own way.”

Jhod took up his bow while he talked, testing the strength of its curve and inspecting the string for damage. “I do not wish to make demands, but I must insist on going as soon as I can. If it is for my safety you fear, I am flattered, but do not worry about me. I am no adventurer, but I am capable of taking care of myself in the wilds if need-be, and I will have Old Deadeye's guidance to aid me.”

Frodrick nodded with a solomn expression. "I see. I ain't one for religion or magic, but I can respect a noble goal. If gettin' you to this temple will help out the people, then I be damnd if I sit on the side with my thumb up my arse. Consider me and Jargon your escort. I am sure the rest of the young pups will have a bit o' piss n' viniger in them to help ye out too."

31 Desnus
Thorn Ford; D4
Narlmarches
(Fey Encounter)
The two invisible voices all but disappeared in the following silence. There was a couple hanging moments where for all intents and purposes it could have been the party's own imagination that had been talking to them all.

Finally, the voices started up again, no less excited for the blank welcome they received. “Oh, we almost forgot!”

Tyg's voice jumped between the extinguished campfire and Zeran's seat on a log. “Getyourmap getyourmap!” There was a slight blur of motion, and when she landed, perched next to Zeran, she was fully visible.

From the waist up, she looked like a tiny elven woman with silver hair with copper stripes, no taller than a cat. Below, like a centaur, her body was that of a giant, bright green cricket with copper coloured legs.

Tyg-Titter-Tut was a grig. Miguel recognised the fey that stood before them, but deigned not to interrupt. Grigs were usually good-spirited, and Rill was already cranky from her home invasion, but he knew enough about manners not to be caught off guard this time.

Zeran's map seemed to will itself out of his pack before he could think to reach for it, though. It fluttered across the camp in the feylight to him, and stopped, when Perlivash appeared, and held the roll out to him in both claws.

Despite the huge orange butterfly wings, Perlivash was not actually a creature of the fey, like Tyg. He was a small, azure-scaled dragon of nearly the same size as his companion. A fairy dragon, but a dragon no less, Miguel knew.

Tyg-Titter-Tut commanded Zeran's attention as he fished out his writing utensils. “Let's see, what do you have here—oh, you've already found those nasty traps all over here. Well I bet you don't know about the best tasting radishes in the region!”

“Those ones?” Zeran pointed to the moonradish patch.

The grig took another look at the map “Oh, well, there ya go. No matter, we know everything about this area. In that case, have you been to the hot springs all the way at the beginning of the stink river?”

Zeran confirmed. Skunk river headwaters. Formerly inhabited by a pair of giant toads. The pranksters were elated at this news—it seemed they had been mistaken by the toads on more than one occasion for fat flying insects.

The two skimmed the map, glossing over the area where the trapper lay dead.

“Ah, then I got just the thing for you. Biggun's like you like adventure, right! Exploring lost ruins, uncovering ancient treasures! There's a lost temple left behind when the people who used to live here all got themselves dead and left and—oh, there it is. Hmm.”

The grig set her head on her fist and pondered. Suddenly an idea occured to her, and she chattered quickly to Perlivash in some other unknown language. After a short moment of this exchange, the fairy dragon peered at the map.

“Haha! They don't got it!”

Tyg-Titter-Tut stood back and put on her mystical face. “Then let me tell you the story of a time when the world was young, and the tribe of manlings who lived in the plains to the northwest, back when they commanded a mighty territory three times larger than it is today.

“These barbarians called themselves the Tiger Lords—they were cruel, crude, and rapacious beasts, but among them, there was one noble prince, handsome and mighty. He rejected the savage ways of his people—some say he had taken his fill of bloodshed and grew weary of conquest, some say he possessed a mind ahead of his time, and after a great battle he became horrified at the things he had wrought in his life and sought to bring an end to the cruelty and despair, but some others say his wild heart was tamed by a maiden so fair, a beautiful fey whose ravishing appearance could calm the most savage of beasts, and quell even the mightiest bloodlust—”

“Hold on a minute, I don't remember any of this and I'm older than you!”

Tyg-Titter-Tut grinned, guilty. “I admit there may have been some... creative embellishment.”

Perlivash rolled his eyes. “We don't know anything about who was buried except that it was some kind of important tribal prince. They have stones set up all over the grasslands to the north, marking their dead, but most of them have already been toppled and looted by other bigginses patrols or others. This one, though, is almost completely covered in blackberry brambles and hasn't been touched yet.”

The dragon pointed to the map, area 'B1'. “There is a pile of stones right around here, we spotted it one day when we were out on adventure. The barbarians who made them a long time ago haven't come out to this region in years, longer than we've been here, but I was barely able to detect a little bit of magic under these stones that wasn't blocked out by all the dirt and rocks.”

Tyg spoke up, “The stones are too heavy for us to move, but if you checked it out I betcha there'd be something interesting down there, no matter what it is. I'm sure the tribal biggins won't mind, either, since they've gone away so long ago I bet anyone who would have cared is already dead or gone anyway.”

After giving Zeran specific, occasionally contradictory, but largely intelligible instructions on the exact location to mark the cairn, the two fey flitted off into the trees, vanishing from sight with fey magic even before they left the area of the light—and speaking of the light, the glowing points vanished less than a minute after the fairy's themselves, plunging the camp into darkness once more.

(+250 XP each for befriending the fairies)

2 Sarenith
Oleg's Trading Post
South Brevic Borderlands
('Breeg')
The hunter that had confronted Giles looked like he might have a go at strangling the trapper-disguise the caster was wearing. “Breeg Orlivanch, you no-good foul-mouthed pissant, have you gone stupid as well as craven? Or is it you just wait for others to remember your gambling debts for ya?”

(I had originally planned to begin moving on, but then apparently the virtuoso spirit took hold of me and things got out of hand. Also the bit with 'Breeg' is way overdue, but apparently every time I remembered I should make post 4-sentence answer I was not at my computer or else something distracted me XD

(Here's hoping that my panic-season of exams holds off until I can make a full post to move back toward the Temple with Jhod. Decide amongst yourselves what to do about the Barbarian Cairn and when to pay it a visit.)

Travelling
5-7 Sarenith
Hexes: B5 – D3
Jhod was up and prepared to leave before the others had even finished their breakfast. Despite his unfailing patience and politeness, it was obvious that he was eager to get moving. He buzzed about the fort with the energy of a man several years his junior as he made sure the last of his packing details were settled. Soon enough, though, the adventurers were on their way back to the temple.

The party took the route southeast across the ford at the former bandit camp and arrived back at the region around the temple on the third day. There was a brief confusion in finding the exact location of the overgrown temple amidst the hilly forest, but they were on track in very short order, about an hour before the nightfall.

Jhod let out a soft gasp when the massive stone elk came into view. Zeran brought the wagon to a halt just inside the ring of pillars and Jhod dismounted, looking all about in wonder at the ruinous splendour of the temple.

“My god...” Jhod paused at the base of the crumbling stone stairs. He turned to the party, preparing their things to make camp inside the natural cave that formed the shrine's interior. “Thank you all for bringing me here. I am indebted to the Greenbelt Party, though first I will need to satisfy my mission here. Restoring this temple is my first priority, but if you ever need a priest's services, stop by at any time and I will perform to the best I am able.”

7 Sarenith – Night
Temple of the Elk; D3
Narlmarches
With less than a month to the solstice, the nights were getting shorter and warmer. The watch had to fight against the pleasant warmth and the soothing late spring rustling of leaves to keep alert.

Kyrie sat on watch closest to the mouth of the cave, where there was a pleasant breeze caught just by the corner of the entrance. Outside there was a faint stirring in the sound of the leaves. She peered out into the darkness.

It was impossible to see anything past the clearing, which itself was only modestly lit by the gibbous moon. After a few moments Kyrie dismissed it—either it was a passing animal or merely her imagination.

But then she heard it again. Was that a soft sliding noise, or just the sound of a bush in the breeze? The night seemed empty of life, regardless what Kyrie thought she was hearing.

Suddenly a large, dark mass at the very edge of the clearing seemed to collapse into the far end of the pool. The accompanying splash of something large landing in the water, throwing ripples down the length of the pool and spilling water over the sides was unmistakeable.

Kyrie scrambled to her feet as the others stirred from their sleep. The figure at the end of the pool rose slowly—she saw just enough of it to catch a glimpse this time. Her gaze tightened into a glare. It was just another big weed monster.

The shamber stood barely a hundred feet from the mouth of the cave. It was impossible to say, even if she could get a better view, whether it was the same that had attacked them so long ago, but no doubt it was just as deadly.

Frodrick 22/22 –
Jargon 19/19 –
Giles 19/19 – 20 bolts
Kyrie 21/21 –
Miguel 17/17 – 20 arrows
Zeran 19/19 – () 21 bullets

(Now let's see if I can remember how to do this thing again...)

EDIT: Now with new map of Temple grounds ~here~

"Don't panic, but we have a weed out front, and I am pretty sure it's not a fake one this time." Kyrie said to the others as they awoke.

Her hands shook as she switched her shovel for her shield, before clenching her fist tightly around the handle. This time would be different. This time, the weed would not get its way so easily.

Kyrie drew her sickle as she walked to the entrance of the cave, taking a defensive stance, preparing her body and mind against the potential charge of the weed.

"Mother, grant me the strength to stand against this weed." Kyrie prayed.

((Assuming Miguel does use his lights, and we get the weed's attention))

With the weed now aware of the party, there was really only one option left. Take the fight to it before it could bring it to the ones that wouldn't be able to survive its attack. Kyrie knew firsthand how powerful it was. All the more reason not to let anyone else be hit by it. She advanced as fast as she could to engage the weed in battle, while retaining her defensive posture.