Out by the Water
18th of Abadius 4708 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)
On the next day as, Mina, Sirim, and Anippe stay in the city, attempting to learn as much as they can about the Archmage Nex, his land and his Refuge, you, Cob, and Gorok set out once more on the road with Warty, this time accompanied by a dozen iruxi pushed hand-carts, since the Blackscales have little trust in horses given whose company the beasts had usually been found in. Late morning light reveals a vista of sluggish green over a sheen of water than might at any point be shallow enough to barely splash the knee, or so deep as to lose hunter and cart together. Still, it's not as though you are without map or direction. Here and there sharp hedges grow along a path only
mostly fallen into disrepair, the haunt of trappers and fowlers, or so at least you've been told.
The grizzled old watchman keeping the narrow Fisher's Gate in order had warmed you that outlaws and brigands are often said to hide from the Emperor's justice in these half-tame fen-lands. He'd gotten as far as 'gob' before gobbling the word, to hear Cob laugh at the tale, though from his
hearing of rumors on the wind there's little talk of
who might live in the swamp and more of
what. Travelers had reported the foundations of old houses and temples, some said the stones of their graveyards showing through the water, which in turn had drawn many a treasure hunter and even the eye of the Pathfinder Society. After all, Star Bay had been a good place for ships to weigh anchor since the Earthfall carved the Inner Sea while the Sellen River provided a path into the interior of Avistan. But over the years the surveying parties had returned empty-handed except for those few that didn't return at all.
About once every half century some would-be prophet or smooth talking conman with a plan to get rich leads whole villages of people into the swamp, though
their fates are usually a lot easier to ascertain. The ferns grow long and lush over the bones, and marigolds pop golden from the nameless skulls.
Gather Information [Base DC 30/35; +23 Modifier -> Roll Targets 7 and 13]: Rolls (Full Success)
"People ahead," Cob calls out long before you can hear the creak of wagon wheels.
One wagon to be precise, though lead by mule not horse and wholly unconcerned at the sight of dozens of iruxi making their way up the path. If it weren't for the straw hatted man at the reigns you could well believe the beast would have tried to just plow right through the company. Still, stop it does with a resentful toss of its head. The driver, a lanky fellow who looks like he'd been dried in the sun like jerky and twice as tough by the name of Berg, seems quite happy to share news, most likely because he had worried these strange folk might ask of something more substantial of him.
"There's no one at the Auld Keep, don't worry your scaled head over that, hasn't been in a carp's age. Though if you ask me that place is better left a fishing hole than dwelling place for man or beast. Still, you folk look like you can handle yourselves..."
"Pa!" a young voice rises in outrage from the back of the cart, a boy maybe of an age with Anippe, his hair black as soot, though his eyes are a brown so light as to look almost gold in the sunlight. "Didn't you say it was mad to linger 'round those part or I'd get snatched? They've got littles with them, little... er, lizards."
"Don't you be bothering the fine folk with old rhymes, Sil," Berg says to what you guess to be his son, the man's good graces obviously don't extend as far as a more thorough introduction.
"D'you wanna hear the song? I bet you wanna hear the song!" The boy insists, getting a clap from Cob that sends him falling backwards into the cart with a quick yelp.
"Ye're a
goblin!"
"And you're a longshanks, just not very long of shank yet," Cob counters. "Ye gonna sing or not?"
So he does, though you might yet regret it, a slow and meandering melody made of a piece with rustling marsh grass and ferns whispering in the wind:
"In Blackswamp where shadows seep,
Where the trees bleed red and the waters sleep,
There's a rustling sound, a small croon low,
Ware, dear child, where the black winds blow."
The frogs don't sing, the owls don't call,
Something's waiting beneath the pall.
A hand that's pale, a face that's gray,
It reaches out and drags you away.
Mud and mist, they hide the eyes,
Glowing bright 'neath starless skies.
So don't wander, don't stay long
Iffen you hear this song."
With that last syllable the boy kicks his feet along the side of the cart, looking expectantly at Cob, which changes to disappointment at the lack of fear and then a kind of fascination when your friend draws a silver dagger for the sharpening. Looks like there's more than foundations to build.
What questions do you ask of the pair?
[] How did the 'Auld Keep' come to be abandoned?
[] What are they doing down this road?
[] Where did Sil hear that song?
[] Write in
OOC: Enjoy.
