Korchel remained quiet as Cassa wrapped his injuries first; the Dwarf had a lot taken out of him, and was in no mood to interact heavily.
Aredhel walked to Olluc after writing his letter out "There shall come Nalthinisse, with the silver tresses, the one you asked whether the proper address would be 'sir' or 'dame'. Please give my friend my writing, so that I am not missed."
Olluc nodded and grinned, "Aye, I remember the er... individual
yeh speak of! I'll make sure it gets ta Nalthinisse!" The grizzled man took the coin and letter; they both disappeared within the folds of his clothes. "Now, master Milarien; I insist yeh go and catch a sleep!"
The elf agreed with Olluc, nodding to the man and making his way to the stairs - but not before pausing by Atacuso to take a look at the necklace and emblem he held. "Ah yes, that's the sign of Hecuta. I've heard of it before; They are quite common in the southern parts of Decathros, but haven't really caught a foothold up here. They try to spread their cause around as much as they can. Obviously they underestimated Soglash!" Aredhel took a close look at the necklace, "I believe these are given out to their missionary clerics; they use it as proof of membership to other Hecutans."
Aredhel nodded once, then turned to retire upstairs. There was a long journey ahead of them, and they couldn't oversleep or they would lose valuable time!
Helgkhor ran his hand over his new cloak, which had altered to fit his size. "Sorcery!" he whispered harshly, but this time in a somewhat impressed tone. The cloak was warm and sturdy, and felt like it was tough as sturdy leather. The barbarian made his way to Olluc. "Tell me; what is the fastest way down to Vartanadel?"
The tavern owner's eyes widened, "Vartanadel!?
That's quite a distance to travel! Well, there be the main road which is safer; it winds through the hills and mountains towards the south, but it do be taking nearly five full days travel to the border!" Olluc paused and drummed his fingers against his arm in thought, "Well, there do be another way to go. 'ttle take only two, maybe three days to the border. There be a road going along the coast. T'aint used much anymore because there be rumors that it be haunted, y'see. But 'ts def'nitely the fastest!"
"Then that's the way we will go! Time is critical!"
"Alright. Yeh be careful on that road, y'hear! Keep yeh're wits about yeh!"
Cassa had finished patching everyone up and was cleaning the mess made with soapy water in a wooden bucket. Korchel had fallen asleep in front of the fire already, leaning back heavily in the chair he was in. Atacuso had followed Aredhel upstairs to a bed of his own not long after the elf had retired; though he had managed to sell the wine to Olluc for ten gold bits. Even Olluc was settled in back in his own chair in front of the fire, his thoughts his own.
Helgkhor's mind was buzzing; he did not feel tired - only eager to continue the hunt. He sat down on the wooden floor, in front of the fire and got to cleaning his greatsword. But dispite his stubbornness, sleep eventually claimed the warrior.
The group was awake only an hour after dawn. They had breakfasted quickly and left the inn together. Olluc was kind enough to supply them with several days of rations, as well as a small package full of premium dried meats for Carus. On the way out of town, Helgkhor and Aredhel stopped off at a stall on the main pier of Soglash, pawning their unwanted items. Aredhel's smooth words saw him come out with forty pieces of gold for his handaxe and citrine - easily what they were worth. Helgkhor was not so sweet with his sale, but still came out with twenty bits for the dagger, shortsword and dress clothes.
Horses in Soglash were a valuable commodity and were out of the group's price range. As such, they took to the road on foot, gladly leaving the sodden town behind.
The road along the coast lifted the companions' spirits considerably. The mist had disappated for the day, and brilliant sunlight shone colors most spectacular along the writhing waters of the spiked sea. Far away over the sea, a storm roiled, creating dramatic lightning plays and quiet peals of thunder which only just reached them as a bass rumbling. For the entire day the party travelled, Helgkhor moving them at a fast pace. They stopped twice for a rest, once in a small, old campsite where Atacuso cooked a hare which he had slain with an arrow along the road. The second stop was under a shady willow where they engaged in small-talk, wherein Helgkhor regaled stories of hunting along the coasts of Twyrlandir. Atacuso had not yet talked to Aredhel about his elven lineage, and was now unsure as how to approach the subject to the Wizard. As such, the questions went unasked for now.
As they left this willow, Korchel pointed out to the sea once more, "Tha' storm looks like it's changed direction, lads! We may be gettin' wet tonight!"
True enough, within two hours - just as dusk was beginning - the first drops of rain began to fall; the sun was now completely blotted out, and soon the companions moods dampened. Dispite the adverse conditions, none really felt like stopping; they continued on their journey as darkness surrounded. Finally, the four men reached the top of a large rise. They paused at the peak of this rise, looking down at the expanse before them. Olluc had never mentioned THIS!Ship Graveyard
Before them lay a massive expanse of broken ships and rotting wood - it seemed like it went for several miles in the distance, and the road passed straight through it. There was no way around, and backtracking would take far too long. The only way was through this mess. With a worried glance at one another, they trekked forth once more.
Into the graveyard they went. The road was lined with occasional torches at times; although who or what lit these could not be known. There were large expanses of darkness and twisting, confusing dirt paths however. It would be easy for anyone to get lost in here, and in fact, if not for Atacuso's tracking skills, they may have found themselves wandering off the beaten path and becoming lost.
Only an hour had they been within the maze-like walls of the ship graveyard, when abruptly Atacuso let out a little 'yelp!'; up ahead on the path a lone figure moved, shambling forward through the mist towards the party. As the figure approached the mists parted. And there before them stood an eerie sight;
It was tall and thin, and heavily robed. An intricate mask of wood hid any facial features of this person and the hood of the robe was pulled over the head. All that could be seen were beady eyes from behind the mask and thin, ragged bony arms ending in fragile hands. The figure's skin was almost -too- white, and abruptly a ragged, rasping cough exploded out from behind the mask.
Truly a haunting figure stood before them, in the middle of the night in this ship-graveyard where imaginations and fears run unfettered.