Age of Ice and Blood: A Pathfinder System Heroic Fantasy Quest

Thirty Seventh Day of Elnu-Hamba (Elnu Descendent), 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)

You had ridden scarce six leagues beyond the walls of the city only a narrow line of wooded hills between you and yet a hush had fallen under the branches of the laurel trees, not s sound of wind or wave, not the cry of a single seagull to mark the nearness. The air is thick and still, watchful, as it was not so long ago... and you remember well the watchers. "Watch out," you call in a half-whisper, not needing to say for what. Inge's eyes already gleam faintly with the power of sight beyond sight and Swift Pebble is still as a stone on your shoulder, only the twitching of her whiskers giving away how sharply she is bent on the task.

For his part Zaia is looking at the branches of a waist high shrub small golden flowers, all you can hear out of his muttering is 'beans' which you can only suppose is of some hidden meaning, though Wanderer does not know as much of the doctor and his ways. "Not good to eat yet," he dismisses them.

"Well then it's good we aren't here of a meal," you say, to which Silver answers in jest: "Easy for you to say you aren't walking though a feast, nothing like fresh spring grass sweetened with flowers to start the day."

Though he doesn't quite manage to get a laugh out of the rest of you the air does clear a little... just as you walk out from the shadow of the trees onto a wide dry stretch filled with knee high crimson flowers growing from spiny roots. As you get closer you realize the red is not one flower but many, each like the leaf on a tree or the scale of some uncanny beast.

"Blood Flutes," Zaia says. "Some hunters swear they are bad luck, but certain herbalists who claim they have power to cure ailments that afflict the eye and the mouth... though it is said the red is the blood of the earth and will not abide those who spill the blood of man or beast."


"Signs and markings..." Esha murmurs. "There is an air of sorcery about this place, but of what kind I cannot say for it is a faint as dew in the morning."

"At least we know we are on the right track," you say hopefully. "If a man should seek out fish for dinner than it is well that he has managed to find a stream amid the parched rocks."

"So what now? I start shouting for the Good Neighbors to give back my spear least I come back with iron and salt?" Tom asks no one in particular.

"I doubt a thief could be so accommodating," you reply darkly. Instead you turn in askance to those who would know more of the arcane, but they all hesitate as an unbidden guest upon the threshold.

"It depends on how you want to do this," Esha says at last. "A greeting would be done with honey and with candles, to summon forth the Lonely Ones to parlay, but if it is war you mean o make, than the spilling of blood is sure to call them forth as sure as bees at the sight of a bear."

"Well that don't sound so bad," Inge says. "Bees are a lot smaller than a bear." A daughter of the shore she had clearly never seen a bear take to his heels at the buzzing of a swarm of bees.

You open your mouth to call for the vow of blood, to open the way and put right the thieves as they deserve, but then you recall the bargain you had made with the fey of shadow and flame, that they should live in peace with the men of Lirman. Those spirits are not the ones you hunt here... at least you do not think so.

What do you do?

[] Try to parley with the fey for the spear

[] You will not make bargains with thieves

OOC: Well this should be a straightforward enough vote.