Blushing madly, Inamar scrambles to her feet and hurls another bolt of iridescent witchfire at the hovering apparition! The spirit dodges to the side, just to be caught by Rooth's flail which flashes through its being. The spirit seems nonplussed and its shadowy eyes blink in what looks like surprise and comprehension as the flail passes through it without resistance. Having felt resistance with the dagger, Syfer swings as hard as he can. As the spirit is caught by Rooth's attack it fails to notice Syfer flanking and his leaping strike on the other side, the small knife is driven hard slashing through the spiritual essence of the creature, tearing it's head in half. The shadow essence of the creature unravels at the split and it starts to dissipate entirely.
Soon there is no visible evidence that it was ever there.
Weylan pulls off the sleeve off the golves and rolls up the sleeve on his studded leather to inspect where the spirit stabbed him. Bringing his glowing mindblade closer he inspects the unbroken skin in the aura of its light. He looks disturbed although the flesh on his arm is as undisturbed as his armor was.
"I ah... I don't feel well. Something seems off." Gravan rubs his hand on his head and sits down heavily. "That was.. ah... some sort of evil spirit. I believe. As for the sigil, I don't know. Perhaps it was summoned or created. Maybe I've seen it before, but my head's a little foggy right now."
'I saw that siggil in my nightmare while that thing had me under its spell...''i dont know if the drfeam has some meaning or it just is a way of pining people down...
__________________ ~With Us Three Under Water You Will See the Beauty of the World~
Inamar peers at Weylan's 'injured' arm and nods, relieved.
"At least it doesn't seem like it can hurt us," she decides. "Do you think the goblins sent it after us? There might be more. What was that magic you used against it?"
"It's blows may not have left any marks, but that doesn't mean they're harmless." Weylan shakes his head, trying to clear away the nagging whispers at the back of his mind by his brief contact with the shadow creature.
It is still among the short hours of darkness before the first rising of a sun upon the new day. The hooting sounds of an owl can be heard in the distance.
Inamar looks up from her frowny inspection of Weylan's apparently unmarked arm and shrugs.
"I wonder where that owl is," she says, appropos of nothing, as she ventures back to where her bedroll lies and sits down.
"That old druid's badger makes me want a pet. What do you think, Weylan? Should I get a pet?"
She regards the warrior with her strange violet eyes. They don't quite glow, but always seem to reflect more light than is actually hitting them, like a cat's.
The party tries to go back to sleep, though thoughts linger on the small spectral assailant, its yellow sigil, and the meaning of its appearance and actions.
In the morning Weylan and Gravan still feel significantly off, but Rooth and NR4ZN seem to have thrown off the effects of whatever happened to them the night before.
Rooth guides the party as she tracks the goblin band's progress. Weylan again ranges ahead and to the sides with his uncanny speed while NR4ZN takes up point for the rest of the party followed by Gravan, Inamar, and then Syfer as rear guard, now sporting the goblin's dagger that Weylan lent him.
The day progresses returning some sense of normalcy as the sound of wind through the familiar types of trees, the scampering of chipmunks and squirrels, and the chirps of various birds are well known and even peaceful. Weylan's scouting even spooks up a family of deer that bound off deeper into the woods.
About mid-day Rooth notes an area where the goblins and worgs seem to have made camp in a small clearing, she even is able to point out where they made a cooking fire.
Inamar drifts into the now-deserted camp and scuffs at the ground. A sudden impulse grips her, and she concentrates for a moment to see if there are any of those strange auras about that tell her magic is in the area.
Rooth studies the ground trying to make out how many hostiles shes looking for. 'Camp obviusly here' she says to no one in particular pointing a finger to the ground in front of her, she starts looking for the tracks leaving the camp, and will follow them as she finds them. 'I think we getting close so stay 60 feet behind me. I want to se them before all our noise reaches them' Rooth will move as silently she can while tracking.
__________________ ~With Us Three Under Water You Will See the Beauty of the World~
Inamar concentrates but finds little that glows to her senses. There is the Gannu goblin's knife that Syfer now bears, the tattered green cloak that Weylan wears, her staff, the moon-marked bottles from the fallen goblins in the druid's home. She sees no new auras here.
Rooth moves carefully as she tracks, noting where a few wandered off into the bushes, and one side track where a number of goblins apparently wandered off as well before returning. She notes a few spatters that might be blood, forming a little trail this way. Investigating she finds a spot among some tall vine choked trees where it looks like a number congregated, the tracks are numerous and overlayered. While observing the ground she spots the ends of some vines that have been cut near a spot where more blood fell. Glancing up a creak in the trees draws her attention and she sees dangling from high above a goblin, its head lolling at an angle hanging from the looped vine that holds it suspended in the air. It looks like one of its arms is bloody.
Rooth snifs the air and waits for the others to catch up with her 'anyone knows what type of vine that is?' 'might bee on of those bad vines...' If the vine is a normal one, Rooth will climb up in the vine and scout in all direcctions and cut the dead goblin down.
__________________ ~With Us Three Under Water You Will See the Beauty of the World~
Insects buzz around the dried blood on the ground.
Rooth inspects the vines and does not believe they are of the rapidly animate variety. She begins to climb the tree and gets closer to the dead goblin. It's cowled clothing is reminiscent of the shapes of the spectral figure that attacked during the night, though made of the hides of various animals and in various shades of brown. The goblin appears thoroughly dead, its orangeish skin beginning to gray, its tongue extended, face mottled, no breathing, and limbs looking stiff. The blood seems to have dripped from its right arm, stains can be seen that soaked through the long sleeve, plastering it to the corpse's arm. It bears a small stone knife at its belt, about as big as the white one Syfer now bears.
The vine around its snapped neck was definitely tied. It looks like the vine was cut off at the bottom and up above where a branch makes a convenient work station. The cut vine portion was then used to fashion a noose of sorts that was knotted back into the hanging vine.
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