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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 3531860" data-attributes="member: 1210">Kyle creeps forward, towards the still village. Closer... closer... closer still. He gulps nervously. He nears the cattle pen. None of the cows move. His eyes flick towards the rest of the village.Kyle halts. His eyes bulge. “Crikey,” he whispers to himself.Now that he is a hundred feet closer to the village than he was- than the rest of the party is- Kyle has gone up a subtle rise, and from his new elevation, he can see the bodies. The village is littered with the corpses of (presumably) its previous inhabitants. They lie scattered here and there, with no order, rhyme or reason. Kyle gulps again. He has always had a hard time refusing dares, but walking into this area just might be suicide.Meanwhile, back at the party, Sir Fwaigo “Goer” Smith frowns. “What’s he waiting for?” he wonders. Scowling, he pulls out his shortbow and nocks an arrow. “Let’s see what happens if I shoot one of the cows!” he suggests cheefully.Dahlia would normally object to the idea of shooting a cow; however, under the circumstances, she holds her tongue. I doubt very much that these are normal cows, she thinks grimly. She watches as Goer lets fly. The shaft shoots away, arcing up into the sky and then falling to earth, sinking fletching-deep into one of the cows.“Did you see that? That was perfect!” Sir Fwaigo crows.“I think Kyle is heading back towards us,” Sheriff Jorgen states, pointing.“Hey, you didn’t finish the dare!” shouts Goer.Kyle is hurrying back. “Screw that!” he exclaims. “That cow didn’t even move when you shot it, and there are bodies everywhere in that village! I’m not going any closer to that place- I think we should just avoid it entirely.”Another short debate breaks out, but Otis points out, “We have no time to waste; we must pursue Harth.” This causes the party to agree that there is no time to waste, and they travel onward, turning back to the northwest. (Our heroes are only sure of which direction is which because of the gnomish map that they found, and because Otis can read the strange, bubble-filled script of the gnomes.)Soon they find the ground beneath them starting to soften. They leave footprints behind them, obvious ones; but there are no obvious tracks other than theirs that they can see. As they move along, the ground becomes softer and starts to become sticky, almost like mud. Kyle starts to have trouble lifting his feet free of the clinging ground.* In the distance, to the northeast, our heroes can see the strange, red-tinted forest that they spotted earlier. “No thank you,” mutters Sir Colder wryly. “This is getting ridiculous,” Kyle pants. “I need to rest.” Otis grumbles. “Unless someone wants to carry me?” the apprentice asks hopefully.“ME!” roars Sir Percival. He lifts Kyle onto his shoulders, and the party moves on. The hours pass. At one point, Me has to put Kyle down in order to try to free one of his boots that the muck is reluctant to release. He cannot manage it, and moves on barefoot. The party members that are mounted find it somewhat difficult going, for their horses’ hooves tend to sink several inches deep into the ground, and any lengthy delay causes them to sink deeper still. It is as if the environment itself conspires against them. As our heroes proceed across the boggy area, they come to a small marsh about 60’ across.  In the center of it is small strange-looking hut raised about 5’ above the water on stilts.  The hut appears to be mostly wooden, but has what the party first takes for a stone roof. A rotting mound of vegetation hauls itself up from the marsh to oppose them, but they destroy it quickly and easily, and then they turn their attention to the hut. It looks to have been the scene of violence.  The body of an elf lies within it, savagely decapitated. “She was probably killed about two weeks ago,” Dahlia tells the others after briefly examining it. The interior of the hut is about 10’ in diameter and is strewn with broken effects. It contains a slashed sleeping cot, an overturned and partially burnt bookshelf, a small shelf holding a cup, bowl, knife and spoon and a small dresser that looks ransacked (articles of clothing are strewn about the hut’s interior). Searching it, our heroes find a bottle of fine elven wine that is in the corner on the floor. Otis is ecstatic to discover a partially-burnt spellbook that still has a few usable spells in it. (Later examination shows that it contains three usable spells- Otiluke’s resilient sphere, lead shield and whelming blast, none of which Otis has ever heard of before.) “Hmm,” he muses. “I am surprised that this spellbook maintained its potency, even inside this hut.”“Hey, look at this,” Goer calls. “The roof isn’t actually stone- it’s lead.”“Ahh,” Otis breathes. “Lead shield. I see.” Slowly, he smiles. I must learn this spell!Meanwhile, Me takes the elf’s boots. Grinning, he comments, “Me has boots.” He begins brushing the mud off of his feet and, after a few moments, he pulls the new boots on. They fit well enough, and Dahlia notes that they appear to be coated in duck oil.“That’ll keep your feet dry,” she remarks. “I suspect that we can rest safely here,” Otis announces. “I believe that the lead roof will protect us, and one of the spells that is in this book is called lead shield. Given some time, I may be able to protect some of us from the environment.”“Thertainly, that would be a worthy uthe of our time,” Sir Cedric lisps.And so our heroes spend a few days resting, recovering their health, healing and- as best they can in this age of madness- relaxing. They try to stay within the confines of the little hut, making for a very crowded few days, but it is probably better than exposing themselves to the life- and magic-draining environment. Outside, the maroon sky looms overhead, ominous and omnipresent. Dahlia does spend some time scouting, wild shaping into a bird and circling alone in the sky. Nothing else flies nearby. She beats her wings until she gains enough altitude to see miles ahead.A chasm, she realizes.Indeed; there is a great gorge that cuts across the party’s path. Fortunately, a bridge appears to cross it. Unfortunately, at the bottom, Dahlia can see movement. Swooping closer, she is horrified.The chasm is some 80’ across and easily 200’ deep.  The walls are sheer and acrid fumes rise up from below.  At the bottom, a field of hundreds of impaled bodies is plainly visible even from her vantage point high above, and large, demonic forms tending them are visible by the dozens.They’re mostly off to the side of the bridge, on both sides. I wonder... She calls lightning, and a moment later a bolt of electricity shoots down from the sky at one of the great frog-like creatures. To her shock, there is no effect. The demon vanishes. A few moments later, it reappears- and about a dozen more appear with it.Uh-oh, she thinks. Dahlia swiftly flies away, taking a very circuitous route back to the hut in the small swamp. Her mind spins. How are we going to get across that? she wonders.Next Time: How will our heroes cross the bridge- or will they fail?? Find out next update!*Kyle is the low-strength character in the party.</blockquote>

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