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Message: <blockquote data-quote="YeOldeAlbatross" data-source="post: 3753945" data-attributes="member: 52884">OOC: Let's go ahead and move on...Hakkara, impatient to get the group moving again, begins scaling the low boughs of the giant darkwood, so that she can use her strength in helping Loricallior to retrieve the bodies from the trees. It is unpleasant work, given the partially eaten state of the poor souls, but the pair manage to lay all three corpses on the soft green grass of the clearing.As they labor, Jared borrows a dagger from Cyryn and scrapes a generous amount of the distinctive Elderwood Moss from the nearly black bark of the tree. He places the moss in his spell component pouch for safekeeping. Jebbo flashes the priest a wide grin, pleased that the first stage of their mission has been a success.Jared then turns to the dead, lying in their repose where Loricallior and Hakkara arranged them. The priest intones a prayer to Sarenrae that the souls of these dead men will be welcomed into the afterlife, and that they would not be found wanting as they face the cleansing flame of Sarenrae's fiery judgment. With no easy way to bury or entomb the bodies, the group can see little recourse but to leave them in a state of gentle repose beneath the sentinel of the vale. To those of the party with a more natuaralistic view on things, it seems quite fitting.Once the skittish pony has been rounded up again, and the newest loot strapped to the sturdy beast's back, the party is ready to make way again. Setting off into the forest, each one cannot help but marvel at the great elder tree, and wonder what other incredible sights await them on their quest.The site of the witch's hut, as identified by Milon Rhodam, is too far away to reach before nightfall, so the party makes camp once more as the sun sets. As before, the forest comes alive with the night, and the party keeps a burning fire and a careful watch to ensure the safety of the group. For the third consecutive night, the watches pass without incident, and the adventurers cannot help but consider themselves fortunate that, for the vale's dangerous reputation, they have been unmolested in their slumber thus far.So it is that in the late morning of the fourth day from Falcon's Hollow, the sounds of the forest become suddenly distant as the familiar trees part, opening into a small, almost perfectly circular glade. The nearest stands of pine, eyln, and darkwood—all typically sturdy woods—twist away from the clearing, as if bent by some impossibly strong wind or seemingly in an attempt to flee despite their paralyzed roots. At the glade’s center squats an ugly cottage, little more than a pile of twigs, shoots, and ivy stacked upon mud walls. From the thatched roof dangle bundles of gnarled roots, old dried beast carcasses, and knucklebone bangles, all clattering together like gruesome wind chimes. A dozen small thatched fetishes—each shaped like a tiny man, imp, or rearing serpent—stand propped in the yard, keeping guard before a rickety plank door.Your actions?</blockquote>

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