Completed [Play-by-Post] Magic World/BRP: "In Search of the Sorcerer"

[nikolokolus]

(Unless anybody else has anything else they wish to investigate, I'll assume Rhenmyr is taking point and moving into the woods along the path. Just hit 'agree' if that's what you want to do).

 

[nikolokolus]

Grimgravy Make a Nature roll, if you fail it, make a d100 roll.

 

[Grimgravy]

Nature(62+7+5=74): [1d100] = 69

 

[nikolokolus]

With Rhemyr in the lead and doing his best to stay within sight of his companions, the way forward is slow going as he creeps along the forest path into the gloom. Where it was dead silent at first, there are now occasional hoots and screeches that resound and echo through the dense, dismal wood. A tendril of thick, fibrous ivy wraps itself around Rhenmyr's feet and almost trips him, but nothing else of note happens. After what feels like it must be at least 2 or 3 hours of walking (though it's impossible to tell for sure; the light hasn't changed, and your limbs don't feel any fatigue) you emerge from the dense woods and find yourselves looking across a strange landscape. Rolling hills stretch in front of you for what must be at least a dozen miles, under a sky of constantly shifting purples and greens of coruscating color. To the left, the edge of the forest appears to run to the horizon. To the right, the track you've been following splits off and flanks the edge of the woods for some distance, where it stretches for several miles in a crescent arc. Above the woods there is an unsettling mass of black and purple clouds hanging in the sky. Occasional flashes of lightning criss-cross the sky and low, peals of thunder roll over the barren moors.

Ahead, the path continues into the barrens, rounding several low heath-covered fells. Beyond the fells, you notice a thin plume of white smoke rising from behind the line of a hill. It takes a couple of minutes to summit and survey your surroundings, but from the crest, you see a narrow, shallow valley below you, bisected by a small brook. Down at the bottom of the valley the source of the plume of smoke is a small stone cottage with an earthen roof. From here it's difficult to make out the details, but you do see a low stone wall attached to the back of the cottage and small dark shapes milling about on all fours; apparently livestock of some sort. There doesn't appear to be any other signs of habitation.

 

[L'ennui]

Urash points his staff at the smoking hut.

"Seems like as good a starting point as any, what say you all?"

Looking at Solon, he thinks a moment and adds:

"And does any of this seem familiar, dear colleague? Do spare us the witticisms, this time."

 

[nikolokolus]

Solon furrows his brows and chews at the corner of his lower lip. Much of the indignation and obstinacy he displayed earlier has dissipated, replaced with a look of worry and dread. "N-no. Not what expected to find at all. Prosaic hovels in an Otherworld? Hardly the stuff of legends and tales. P-perhaps we should steer clear of it?" He says with a whinging, pleading tone.

 

[Wayward Son]

"Hah! Afear'd are we Solon? '''Tis but a hovel! Surely, we could handle what is inside."

 

[nikolokolus]

Solon merely shrugs and glances over his shoulder in the direction of the flashing lightning.

 

[Grimgravy]

"Where would we go besides the hut? Brave the stormy woods for some reason I cannot fathom?"

 

[ERYFKRAD]

"Where would we go besides the hut? Brave the stormy woods for some reason I cannot fathom?"

"Could be the hut is a greater danger than yonder stormy woods. I like not having to tarry in this fey land longer than we must."

 

[Grimgravy]

"I'll check the edge for game trails or the like, then."

 

[nikolokolus]

Tracks

Grimgravy make a tracking roll.

 

[Grimgravy]

Track (63+6+5=74): [1d100] = 97

 

[Wayward Son]

"Mayhaps I should help you survey the woods?"

Spoiler

Idk if I can make a Nature check so I'll make both:
Nature = 60 vs 71
Track = 49 vs 50

 

[L'ennui]

"Indeed, time is of the essence. We should get moving, and if you all want to head into the woods, I surely shall follow. However, it seems like a daunting prospect with little assurance that we will find anything. Of course the hut can present just as much danger, but at least it should give us some hint as to where we are and where we should be going."

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

"I agree with Urash. The hut may provide clues in where we need to go. Otherwise we are walking completely blind through this unfamiliar land."

 

[Siveon]

"For the sake of getting this over with, I too am for the hut."

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr scans the stormy woods and the hut with his mirror before proceeding.

 

[nikolokolus]

"Mayhaps I should help you survey the woods?"

Spoiler

Idk if I can make a Nature check so I'll make both:
Nature = 60 vs 71
Track = 49 vs 50

Rhenmyr spends about ten minutes carefully inspecting the trails for signs of passage and doesn't spot any tracks. Mab wanders a bit further however finds a massive pile of dung in the low grasses, at the bottom of a shallow depression about ten feet long, that you swear looks like a footprint, but it's huge! Almost two feet deep and twice as wide. It smells something like death mixed with the most rotten filth you've ever smelled. There are bits of bone and a human jaw bone mingled in it. When you step out of the depression and look around you see another depression of similar size about thirty feet away, and then another thirty more feet away in a rough line. You peer into the distance ahead and behind and see that they emerge from the woods behind you and continue on toward the part of the forest with the looming black clouds and lightning. It seems impossible, but they almost remind you of footprints.

 

[nikolokolus]

Rhenmyr holds up the mirror and to his great consternation, it has turned a lusterless black color, that reflects nothing.

 

[Wayward Son]

"Friend Rhenmyr! I think I've found some tracks of some massive creature! Bigger than my village the beast must be! Come friends, but be careful not to bring alarum to any such creature that mayhaps be wandering the wood..." He pauses for a moment and actually stops to think for once, "Actually, this may be more proof that the hut be a good place to go for shelter. I need not meet something so large and fearsome as that..."

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr checks out Mab's find. "Yes. I think it best we avoid whatever made these prints. To the hut?"

 

[nikolokolus]

To the hut?

Didn't see any objections . . .

The troupe descends from the fells and keeps to the narrow, rocky track, that braces the small brook that springs unbidden from the the rocks a couple of hundred yards away. As you get closer to the hut the dark shapes on the other side of the rocky wall begin to resolve themselves more clearly; a dozen or so hunched, simian forms with coarse dark hair covering their torsos, long spindly arms and short squat legs. However, there's something about them that seems remarkably man-like. A couple of them seem to catch wind of you and begin hooting and gibbering, and soon thereafter the entire pack of hunched creatures are shouting and raising an unholy din that echoes across the moors. (You are probably a good fifty to seventy yards from the stone hovel at this point). Even from here the stench of stale sweat, excrement and other cloying, hideous things assaults your nostrils.

The incessant braying, honking, bleating and incomprehensible gibberish continues for at least another full minute before the door to the hut opens and a large man steps out. He's attired in a pair of strange fur pants, seems to be wearing a breastplate and is adorned with a strange ram's-head helmet. He cracks a whip in the air over the hunched, blathering creatures in the pen a couple of times and after a couple of plaintive whimpers they quiet themselves and huddle in a corner. The man pivots on his foot and drops the whip casually to his side as he cocks his head to the side looking at you. There's something odd about this fellow's posture.

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

"That is a bit disturbing."

 

[Siveon]

"...Greetings?" Marcán waves to the man.