Darkwood--Darkness Rising

[Led Pighp]

"Hah. Thousands of years later, and your kind are still as arrogent as ever. Any mingling of your precious elf blood MUST be the result of the evils of humankind, and not evidence of the ancient evils inherent in your own race."

[Seven Words]

Skyseeker comes to a dumbfounded halt. "You are absolutely right, Led" she says in tones of shocked realization. "Even as I decry the arrogance of my people, I utter such smugly self-righteous pronouncements." She shakes her head ruefully, "Perhaps my people deserve to be wiped out by the Fallen Ones, after all. But then again, perhaps we could hire your services, Led. Teach us humility, one acerbic accurate observation at a time." She suggests with a wry grin.

[Led Pighp]

"Oh, your people deserve much worse than simply being wiped out by the Fallen Ones. But none of us gets what we deserve."

"Anyway, the Fallen Ones wouldn't stop with wiping you out as punishment. They'd then continue on to wiping out the rest of us who do NOT deserve it. Which is why penance is usually to FIX the problem, not simply to suffer equally to the person you've wronged. Adding extra suffering to the world doesn't help anyone. That's vengeance, not justice."

[Barak Windblown]

Looking ahead, the party can see that Barak has all but lost total control of his horse.

Unwilling to ride into the uncertain scents and sounds ahead, the mare had clamped hard upon her bit and wheeled round, nearly unhorsing the old Heshic. Cursing fluently, Barak struggled to regain his seat as the mare bolted back along the trail.

[Led Pighp]

Led spots Barak falling from the mare, and moves over to corral the beast before it can run off into the forest.

[Barak Windblown]

Barak accepts Led's help gratefully, even if his face is flushed with embarrassment. "My thanks," he grunts, re-seating himself while Led control's the mare. "Lead on and we'll follow. Right, Horse?"

The mare snickers non-committedly.

[Seven Words]

After somewhat less than an hour, a battle scene becomes evident .....Frusvolk corpses on both sides it seems....but there is a Fallen one among the corpses, its body bearing only odd circular burned and blasted areas, three of them.

---everyone made Spot checks---

there are marks upon the clothes and gear of each side....one is a white square, missing a wedge
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the other a white spiral between two gray circles

each mark is perhaps an inch in size.

Marrik says,"Those are clan-marks, these " gesturing to the spiral-between-circles "indicate the Breathing Rocks Clan. I cannot place this other one."

[Led Pighp]

Pacing through the field of corpses, Led keeps an eye out for signs of survivors. Either injured combattants mixed in with the corpses, or tracks of people having left the scene, injured or otherwise.

He moves towards a place where a few bodies are piled atop each other... what seems to be a more recent kill falling upon an earlier corpse. He rolls the upper corpse to the side, and then stops very still.

"Your Majesty? This lowly one requests the favor of your assistance for a moment."

After a moment with no response, he sighs. "Skyseeker? What do you make of this creature. Another one of your people's creations?"

[Laurel]

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Laurel makes her way over to look at the corpse, then quickly draws in her breath only to expel it slowly with a soft whistle. "First we are intercepted by a movanic deva, and now this," she quietly mutters to herself.

[Barak Windblown]

"I know this demon." Barak says. He speaks loudly, standing more than twenty feet from the corpse, his face a carefully controlled mask.

"It is a jovoc. It cannot be killed safely, except from a distance. Stand too close to it, and the wounds inflicted upon it become your own." he says.

"By the Goddess, what have we stumbled into here?"

[Led Pighp]

Led very gently puts the creatures hand back onto the ground and quickly backs away from the corpse.

Looking around further, he spots something lying next clutched in the hand of one of the combatants. He searches the area for any more jovoc, then lifts the object for a closer look.

It's a copper medallion, very similar to a Veracinian coin, but it's much larger and not any recognizable denomination of that empire. Since it's made of copper, it is unlikely to be actual money; no people would make a copper coin so large, given that copper is for the smaller value pieces. For something this large, people would rather carry a small silver piece.

He carries it over to Marrik to get his opinion, waving Barak over as he does. "Have either of you seen something like this in your travels?"

[Seven Words]

Marrik looks at it. "The amulet the man on the coin is wearing is the insignia of the Magus Tyran Maximae, the chief wizard of the Imperium. Such tokens were used as keys to storage places of magic items. Which makes me think these folk were on their way to the Waystation."

[Laurel]

The bard's eyes widened as an explanation of what Led is holding is given. "There is an old story of a group of caravan raiders who once found a map to a Waystation in the mountains. They didn't have a key, but figured their thief skills were good enough to break in...

"In the end, there was one survivor left of the raiders who lived to tell the tale. It is said he joined a monastery of Valkhan after being scared straight.

"My understanding is that lacking such a key trying to get into such a storage place tended to cause severe problems for any interlopers."

Laurel pauses and looks at the others. "So...

"Shall we follow their trail of blood westward in to the mountains? Or let them bring their own doom on to themselves for attempting to open the Waystation without the key?"

[Barak Windblown]

Barak runs his hand across the copper surface of the disc. "As the Goddess wills it.." he says softly, reverentially. Then he straightens his furs, adjusts his belt for travel.

"Clearly, we will follow. Though some thought must be given to our prisoner. If the trail leads on much further, at some point we must make camp and seek to learn what he knows."

[Seven Words]

From his position atop the pony, the necromancer in question glares balefully at all and sundry.

A second jovoc corpse has also been found. Skyseeker examines the tracks and wounds, and states. "Infernally clever, pun intended. These demons got just close enough for their aura to affect their foes, and clawed at each other....look at these half-healed wounds...clearly they regenerate at a considerable rate. They wound each other mildly enough that a few seconds will heal them..but those under their effect don't recover near as swiftly. Vynarkus, Barak, if we see another of these, it must be slain as quickly as possible."

[Led Pighp]

Led makes a final pass around the battlefield, looking for signs of survivors.

"So far, I haven't seen anything to tell me that people left this battle. It's late enough now, if there's nobody around for us to help or interrogate, I say we just make camp for the night."

"Of course... the Frusvolk also made camp here, and they were ambushed at night by these... jovoc. So let's make our way away from here a bit before we settle down." He stares at the necromancer. "Then we can deal with this one at our leisure."

"Know this, abomination. If they choose to try that trick on us, of attacking themselves from hiding, you'll receive the same fate. So it's in your best interest to give warning if you suspect they'll be back for us."

The necromancer stares defiantly.

"Ah, I know what you're thinking." says Led. "But there's a paladin among us, which means that as much as you deserve it, you won't simply be slain out of hand here. Consider this: you can survive by cooperating with us. Unlike with those of your own bent, you're not better of by trying to trick us into slaying you in anger."

[Vynarkus]

Vynarkus looks around, using Detect Magic even though he does not expect to find anything.

[Vynarkus]

About a minute after scanning the area and nodding, Vynarkus glances at the Necromancer, then does a double take. His mouth drops open.

"...Holy...

...This is bad!!!"

[Laurel]

The bard rests her palm upon the small pommel of her dagger. "What's bad, Vynarkus?"

[Seven Words]

Marrik whips his head around, scanning for the threat, axe at ready....Skyseeker hefts a javelin, and bounces on the balls of her feet, ready to move at the first sign of a foe.