"But sir, if we don't go, those children who screamed may... damnit Kharov!" Baldorf finished as Kharov went charging off without even a word. People had to learn that foolishly charging in meant death. Or worse. But if they had a plan... Shaking his head, Baldorf returned to talking to Loco.

"Look, sir healer, if we don't go after those children, they may die. Will that relieve the mothers of their pain? I don't think so. Also, chances are, if they're screaming, it's because something's gone wrong - could be that whatever we're in the process of tracking is there. If we follow that idiot who went charging off without a plan, then we might be able to hit two birds with one stone: save the children and find the killer."

Baldorfs posture, attitude and tone have undergone a complete change since he first went into the caves. He seemed more sure of himself, braver, and more strong willed. While he is talking, though he does not seem to notice it, mist slowly starts pouring out of his sleeves, beginning to block the ground. He continues speaking;

"We need to go after those children, and we shall save them. Those tracks are going to still be here after the children are saved. The children might not be there by the time we find the end of these tracks."

The group was left in indecision. The scream had startled them with confusion. Kharov was the only one that took immediate action, drawing his blade and charging into the mushroom patch, following the direction of the abruptly halted cry of fear.

He was the only one.

Loco was unsure of ... well... anything, but at least he knew that he wanted to stay on the path and follow the tracks. Baldorf was a person of words himself, and did not jump into action either. In stead, he was urging the others to follow Kharov. The result was that only one of the party went to investigate while the rest stayed put.

Thagovan and the other Khords that had joined in the search party followed Kharov, but they were extremely hesitant towards entering the mushroom patch. It was said to be dangerous to leave the paths.

(OOC: This is really the only thing I can come up with without giving away too much already. I need reactions and actions before being able to continue.)

"If none of you will follow, then I am going in after Kharov."

The mist spewing from his sleeves had grown in volume now, and was blocking vision somewhat heavily, though Baldorf hadn't even noticed. Out came a dagger from within his sleeves, and out came a few words from his mouth. Suddenly, his appearance changed completely, to that of a Sylvair clad in golden armour brandishing a longsword.

"I am behind you Kharov! We do what we shall!" His voice rang true, as though he had done this numerous times. However, it would seem as though he is acting more as the disguise which he has activated around him rather than what he was acting before. Hacking through the mushrooms in the path which Kharov took, Baldorf follows, with a new personality almost appearing in him.

----------------------------------------------------------

Out of Character: The mist coming from his sleeves is one of his innate spell-like abilities, equivalent to obscuring mist. It was released accidentally during his outburst.

As the search party readied collectively itself, and moved to the point where the injured pebble was found, Groth felt a tap on his shoulder. This was done usually when conversation was meant to be private, between the person tapping and the person tapped. Groth slowly turned his head and looked toward the one he believed to be singling him out for conversation. He was mildly surprised to notice that it was Kharov, captain of the Shard Tunnel Guard.

"After this I mi-might have a po-po-position in the Shard tunnel gua-guar-guard for you. Depending on ho-how well you d-d-d-do here."
Grothtorg knew of the captain, but was not aware that he had a speech impediment. His initial reaction of a chuckle was swiftly changed to a soft cough. One did not show disrespect of laughter to anything said by one of Kharov's obvious accomplishments. He could not have risen to the rank he held within hie profession by being a mere nodding head, a mouthpiece by which others made their wishes known and done. No, this man was one of many in this group who deserved respect, and would get nothing else -- ever again -- from Groth.

"I'm honored by the ivitation and recommendation, good Captain, sudden though it may be. Such an offer isn't to be taken lightly and must be met and tempered with much serious thought. Even though the offer is contingent on my performance in this search, I won't belittle the magnitude of the offer by answering immediately, even after we have finished here, for that is when I will begin to think on it. For now, my focus must be on this task. But you have my thanks and a promise to be worthy of the offer."

---

Groth was about to suggest that Crulgrin, known by Grothtorg to be a caver also, cover the ground ahead and to the sides for signs. Any scrapes, prints, impressions, and disturbances that would indicate passage or physical presence at any point would be more informative if found before they were mangled by other, less knowing, searchers.

But Thagovan beat him to that suggestion. Silently smiling to himself, Groth took his side and within a relatively short time Crulgrin had found signs of small footprints. Tracing these, they came to a small clearing (well, relatively clear of the larger mushrooms, at least) where signs of a struggle were found. Also there were odd impressions in the sand that Groth though he recognized, but wasn't sure. It looked as if someone -- or something -- had walked through the area on widely-spaced stilts. Or maybe a lot of them, all with walking sticks. But the small, sharp impressions were plain and numerous. Groth shook his head, wondering.

If the new tracks meant what he thought they did, time was the essence of salvation for the other children. He would say nothing, except to Crulgrin, until he was certain.

Then came the scream of a female khord, from a distance and filled with dread. A glimpse of a quickly-moving torch that just as quickly disappeared. A time of decision is at hand, for some. But not for Groth.

At the scream, Grothtorg shook his head and sighed as Kharov bolted off in the direction of the scream after drawing his weapon and readying his shield. He speaks, to all and to no one, without stopping what he is doing, "Before anyone asks me, our duty is sworn to the safety of the children, if we can provide it. The childresn are not capable of defending themselves, so we must defend them. We cannot do so if we change course now. The children were here and were moved that direction, I believe." He points in the direction that the new-found 'sharp impressions' lead. "The other parties are adults and can fend for themselves, or not. If not, they have none to blame but themselves."

Groth heard a relatively silent commotion, as if the others were fidgeting about being undecided. When he looks up after a few moments, he sees no one but Loco Fungihammer.

"By the Furrowed Brow of Kharox! Honorable Loco, we cannot continue without the others. We must go with the majority, even though we, at least, agree not to agree with them. Chunks! Chunks and Cracks!" Hefting his bound greatclub, Groth moves quickly to follow the path the others took until he catches up with them.

[[ Hope Loco follows also]]

Once Ole led the others to where he found the injured little one, Thagovan took over and asked one named Grothtorg and another, Crulgrin Shadebeard, to see if they could find any sign of where the children may have gone or what may have taken them.

Ole opened his mouth in a silent "Ah!", and tilted his head back suddenly, causing the bat, Smyert, to squeak and shift his grip on the bound hair at the back of Ole's head.. That was where he remembered Crulgrin's name from. The library archives mention him as a caver for his clan, much as they mention Grothtorg. But where Groth had recent entries in his accomplishments,. Crulgrin's history seemed to "drop dead" a few years back. Well, he's here now, and an opportune and valuable addition to this party, with his skills.

"Does It Eat ... Much ... Mushrooms?" Ole wasn't sure who Loco was speaking to until he turned and looked at the cleric's hand pointing at Smyert. The Khord's face was positively beaming and, although his words were clear, his face had a slightly unfocued look about it.

"Ummm, no, I don't believe he does, vernerable one. I have never seen him eat any mushrooms at all."

He wondered if the cleric was perpetually in his bemused state of mind, and whether or not it was induced or natural. A coiuple of the many things he would like to ask the Khord about, but not here, not now.

The two trackers led the party to an area where there seemed to be signs of a struggle or disturbance. There was also some strange impressions in the sand. According to Crulgrin and Grothtorg, they appeared to be made by something sharp or narrow, and led off into the distance, and off the path.

Then came a scream. A female voice, truncated, cut off. It came from the direction of the searching parents. Then there was a briefly-seen flash of a quickly-moving light. A torch? Possibly. Captain Kharov wasted no time in readying his shield and weapon before he rushed to aid whoever had screamed. He was followed closely by Baldorf, who seemed to have put his shyness aside suddenly, as if the focus was all he needed. Speaking of focus, Ole now had to decide where to direct his focus. That became obvious as more and more of the children's "saviors" went toward the area the scream emanated from. Ole went with the majority leaving the few behind who were still mulling over the new "footprints".

The sudden shift of activity from one area to another so rapidly troubled Olegarn. It smacked of fast travel, and not necessarily by the paths. If that was the case, whoever -- or whatever -- it was either had exceptional eyesight, a different mode of travel, or an uncanny knowledge of the mushroom forest. And when he arrived at the site of the commotion with the others, he noticed the area in question was off the path. Not good..One doesn't stray from the path. Everyone knew this.

But Olegarn's entire life was one that had "strayed from the traditiional path". So why should this be any different? But Ole was not a leader. Nor was he a follower. He was an investigator, a finder. It was up to a "spearhead" to lead into unknown, and for Ole to make the unknown known. Ole delved in his mental archives for a clue that might fit what he had "picked loose" so far, which was not much ...

"I'm honored by the ivitation and recommendation, good Captain, sudden though it may be. Such an offer isn't to be taken lightly and must be met and tempered with much serious thought. Even though the offer is contingent on my performance in this search, I won't belittle the magnitude of the offer by answering immediately, even after we have finished here, for that is when I will begin to think on it. For now, my focus must be on this task. But you have my thanks and a promise to be worthy of the offer."

Kharov nodded in agreement and also gave a smile to the reply he got. He was glad that Grothtarg was keeping such a focused thought on the mission at hand. A great guardsmen he would make....


Now though Kharov was focusing on his mission; getting to the fellow khords who were in apparent trouble. He looked back quickly to check on his party, and they were splitting up their ways, some other following him. No matter, he still pushed on and would hopefully soon get to save his bretheren who were in dire need.

Memories of his friend StinkPod StoneCutter lingered in his mind as Loco FungiHammer watched the last adventurer disappear into the Mushroom Forest long after the scream that drew them away from the trail had faded with the passing shadows.

StinkPod had run into an ambush rushing towards just such a scream, while Loco was freeing a child that had been captured by a slaver.

Loco had to choose between the bound child or following his friend. He chose to free the child and it cost him the future companionship and comraderie of his boyhood friend.

The party that ran towards the distant scream were not boyhood friends, but they were fellow Khords. However, Loco had made a vow to the grieving Khord mother back at the wedding festivities and the Cleric had meant with all his heart that if he were the only one to avenge her stricken child, then it would be so.

The other driving force rarely mentioned, but mostly discussed with StinkPod for so many tortuous years, was the loss of the girl child that was betrothed to Loco from her birth.

Loco's parents and her parents were longtime friends and had promised one another that if each couple were blessed to have a child born of the opposite sex that the children were bound by their parents vows to be married when they came of age.

Loco still had all too fleeting memories of his girl child bride to be, but the constant sorrow of the remembrance of her disappearance was all too fresh even after all these years for the Cleric to ignore the plight of others suffering the same or similar possibilities.

She was never found. She had disappeared without a trace. Both sets of parents exhausted their resources and abilities searching for years, until they too vanished without a trace or just never returned from their quest.

Loco had been shielded from much of this, but as with most other races, youngsters have a way of talking and saying things they overhear that should never be said or repeated.

Over the years Loco held out hope that perhaps somewhere his beloved betrothed was still alive, but over the years others would whisper it was madness to think such things.

So Loco dealt with his inner grief by searching for and rescuing other lost children whenever the situation presented itself.

StinkPod had dedicated himself to help his friend search and rescue the lost, but when StinkPod had run into an ambush following a distant scream, his life ended both slowly and suddenly under the torture of his captors.

Little solace for Loco that he was able to escape with the bound child because of the sacrifice of his boyhood friend, as it was even far more minute solace that no other Khord female would ever find room in his heart that was fully occupied with the memories of his long lost betrothed girl child.

Her distant memory drove him to search and rescue. The death of StinkPod drove him to the Caverns of Madness. Mushrooms drove him to face the realities and the torments of his inner sadness and sorrows.

StinkPod had appeared to Loco in the Caverns of Madness imploring him to resume his destiny of search and rescue.

His betrothed appeared to him there as well begging him to find her for she would always be his.

Mushrooms played their part in these visions and more.

Loco had made his decision and had made his vow. His deity of Nature would help guide him. Mushrooms were the gifts of his deity that enabled him to cope and gain valuable insights into the course of his destiny.

So this day, Loco chose to follow the path set before and track the trail of whoever, or whatever was responsible for the grief inflicted upon the Khords this day.

Besides, a wedding festival had been interrupted, and such an affrontery to the Khord way of life was unforgiveable.

Loco would wreak proper vengeance in behalf of the offended Khords, or he would die trying!

But the Cleric was Not Quite Alone as he followed the trail on the path between the mushrooms.

His Bag of Tricks contained some fuzzy balls that would spring to life to aid him against any danger.

As Loco proceeded further down the path he reached into his bag with his left hand and petted each of the balls while whispering encouragement to each one that they would have their opportunity to assist him or others in danger.

He was ready to pull one forth and fling it towards whatever danger presented itself.

While in his right hand the Cleric clutched a Frost Grenade that would greet any attacker within 10 feet of the Cleric.

Not Quite Alone indeed ...

After a short moment of hesitation, Kharov’s brave example made others follow like sheep in a herd. Into the patch they went, feet stomping between mushrooms, knocking the smaller ones down or trampling them underfoot. They dove under stems as thick as their heads, dodging the caps and veils and leaping over puffballs. A mix of colours and forms flashed by, the majority brown, white and orange. But the adventurer’s focus was on what lay ahead. After a short distance, no more than sixty feet, they arrived on the other side, where another path opened up. It was wider than the one they had been on, and it was not hard to spot the source of the scream.

A few yards away lay the body of a female Khord. Some of them had seen her earlier that evening, carrying tankards of ale which she mostly consumed herself. She’d been a lighthearted woman, joking around and laughing, up to the point of annoyance sometimes. Now she lay on her back, eyes gazing at the far away ceiling of the cave. She might’ve just appeared awestruck by something, had her throat not supported a gaping hole. Flesh had been eaten away by a foul substance, much like in the horror stories young children told each other about the infamous Sour Breath beer. This particular ale was said to be so strong, that it would burn its way out of your throat. Of course, none such thing existed… at least not beer-wise. What this woman had encountered was not the effects of a tasty brew.

Two others of her search party were found a stone throw away. Their torches lay burnt at their sides, surrounded by the same dents in the earth as they had seen earlier. The bodies of these two men were cut up, and they had obviously succumbed to the blood loss and pain. The tracks that dotted the scene like a strewn flower on a baker’s counter went two ways. One set of tracks went south, while another went west.
Thagovan regarded the situation and ordered them all to hear him out.

“I will take a group and follow these tracks over here.” He indicated the trail leading west. “You, you, you and you; go with Grothtorg the tracker and follow the south lead.”
He indicated Olegarn, Baldorf, Kharov and Crulgrin.
“We’re all seasoned warriors, but be careful nonetheless. Give a shout when you find whatever has been murdering these poor people.”

He took his team and left without wasting any more time.

---

In the mean time, Loco had done his best to follow the tracks that lead away from the place where they had first heard the screams. They lead him eastward, into a rather lonely and eerie landscape. Fortunately, the cleric was used to keeping himself company. With his kind of active mind, he didn’t even know the meaning of the word boredom. The slick surfaces and erect forms around him brought him more comfort than disorientation, but this familiarity could also be dangerous.

The tracks followed a curve in the path that took him south and then back westward. He felt like he was going back the same direction. Ready for any kind of attack, the cleric paced forward. After fifteen minutes, the tracks disobeyed the path and went into the thick underbrush of mushrooms. Loco followed (I assume).

---

The other members of his searching party were also following tracks, and they as well had to leave the path after a few minutes and cross into the jungle of funguses. Keeping track of the trail was a lot more difficult now, but they managed, be it with a few misleading or old sideways.
They went deeper into the forest of mushrooms. A damp stench started forming in their noses, clinging to the moisture in the air and the stems and hoods of the shrooms around them. It seemed that the temperature was rising as well, as if the bunched up funguses were sweaty guests at a party themselves.

Then they suddenly halted. After passing a series of giant chanterelles they beheld a spectacular but disturbing sight. The tracks lead into a vast pool of blackish liquid. The pool was almost perfectly round, and bordered by thick patches of white and yellow mushrooms. There was no telling how deep it was.
In the middle of the pool rested a big boulder, and on top of it stood a single mushroom; a white stem as thick and as high as a tree, with a black top that leaked dark drops of sludge that fell into the pool below with thick thuds. The white stem looked shiny and slimy. On its surface hang the bodies of at least five Khords, two of which were children.

Towards the east side of the pool stood a lone figure staring up at the giant Phallus Impudicus. It was Loco FungiHammer.

Baldorf's mood suddenly changed. He looked around a few times, wondering where he was, when he saw the trail which he must have taken. Feeling the pulse of his magical ring around his finger, he willed it to wink out, revealing a slightly confused Baldorf. "Um, what just happened? I mean... actually, I don't know what I mean..." Baldorf looked at the dagger in his hand. Furrowing his brow, he sheaths it, and shakes his head. Seeing the female dwarf, he jumps slightly, and then carefully walks over to the body, taking a closer look, trying to find any other evidence which may be around her. "And I'm still looking for an answer from you guys." He says over his shoulder. "What just happened?"