The fey clamored aboard the small-ish boat. So did Jim and Bo and Bradrick, making the craft wobble wildly in the water.
Zenythin stayed along the bank, peeking through the burnt woods at the bleachers bearing the drunken one-eyed ogre and naughty word-faced troll. The mezzoloth had gone off into what was left of the forest toward the north. The pair of loud-mouths staggered and stumbled down the benches onto ground level.
"So wait...which way to round two?" The ogre bellowed then belched loudly.
"Should we follow the bug fellow toward the river styx? I seem to remember there being a gateway around HERE somewhere...hic...Can't recollect exactly..." The troll staggered indiscriminately toward the river to the east. He threw the empty barrel toward the water, but failed to meet his mark.
Cousin Zenythin looked at Selythin, attempting to read his thoughts.
* * *
Sirocco, the bariur ranger, continued to wind and hide his way through the trees. He was watching the laughing, robed figure on the battlements. Rocko was getting a serious 'evil wizard' vibe.
He looked around for any other signs of Sylvania or any other part of Arborea for that matter. It seemed he was in the fey-wild or maybe the fey-dark...Things didn't seem right. He kept clip-clopping quietly to see more.
The river ran to either side of the castle ruin. It was rushing along at a quick pace. Rocko doubted he could swim it without being carried far along the river past the keep. His bow could reach, but he wouldn't hit without the help o'the gods.
If only he had a boat. Or, perhaps, he could track back upstream and swim from a better vantage point, landing on the castle's island.
* * *