Ready, Fire, Aim!

A somber Hadrioul and not so sober Eiric found their way back to the others, successful in their quest for knowledge…and apparently, wine as the half-elf was jollier than usual. The knowledgeable clerics poured over the map with Krill, determining their best course to Vallaki while avoiding the newly found danger of the Grindhouse and Vistani encampment. Ireena appeared through the doorway of the mansion, jaws dropping at the sight of the ironed maiden; with a rapier at her hip and pack slung low, the party had a new respect for the woman.

The road called to all, but for Seisha the hymn was faint, muted by an unexpected thump in her chest at the sight of the young burgomaster. A moment passed between her and Ismark. Two. The warlock would nod allow herself a third. With a determined twirl, she made her way quickly to the others, her hair a softly waving pennant of what could have been.

On the road Honu daydreamed of cool blue waters, perhaps a bit too loudly for the unwelcome attention of dire wolves crawled out of the woods. Instinctively the heroes banded together, creating a wall to protect Ireena; the foul beasts proved to be no match for them. As the ranger surveyed the land, the tortle did his own research and found one of the true treasures of the cursed land. Honu stood on the rocky shoreline marveling at the glorious, pure, blue waters of the river. Without hesitation he jumped in; his lifted spirits infected the group and for a time their troubles were washed away. Even Seisha fell victim to Honu’s teasing and her laughter, rarely heard, echoed across the winding waters.

The foggy horizon served as their timepiece. Krill called for order once more and off they went, determined to reach the town before nightfall. Not a mile past the river vengeance came calling. The dire wolves kin set upon them and again they rose to the occasion. And fell. And rose again. These wolves heartier than the last put almost all on their back; only the sturdy shell of Honu kept the cleric from falling. The ranger accused his trusty weapon Shatterspike of being cursed and brought forth his bow, his aim true with arrows; his bad luck left an orphan was quickly adopted by the tinkerer whose terrible aim blasted friend and not foe. Joined by the sharp rapier in Ireena’s hands, the warriors rallied and soon the second pack was no more.

With gracious healing from the Cleric of Knowledge the adventurers continued on; at the fork in the road, ominous and mystical warnings hung from the gallows, underlined by unmarked graves. Taking the lead of the forester once more, they skirted danger and made way to Vallaki.