The group retreats from the bandit camp and heads Northeast, skirting around the edge of the mystical fog. They eventually find an old lightning-struck oak tree standing atop a low hill. It is the only tree in a 2-mile radius, a lone landmark in otherwise rolling rocky terrain.

Approached from the north, the tree looks eerily like a claw reaching for the clouds. The party decides to make camp there and while stopped Tosk notices a hollow among the roots. Digging around in it he discovers a sack, probably deposited months or even years ago hidden in the cavity.

Inside the sack is a heavy leather cloak, a superbly crafted dagger, a slim pinewood wand, a silver ring, and what looks to be a wizard's spellbook.

Time and moisture has severely damaged the grimoire but five spell pages are still readable (Identify, Mage Armor, Reduce Person, Silent Image, Unseen Servant).

The pages can be used to either attempt to copy over a spell or prepare it to a spell slot.

Tosk was pretty excited when he found the sack.  When he opened it Tosk cast a quick detect magic so he could see which of the items were magical and which weren't.

When he looked at the grimoire he knew it wasn't for him and asked Renee if she could take a look at it.  "I think this will be a fine place to rest for the night.  Plenty of visibility and a good defensive high ground.  What do you think Ursion?"

Ursion crested the hill and stood there for a moment as he took in the view.

For a brief moment, as he stood there beneath the cool, overcast sky he seemed younger, not that he was terribly old to begin with. It was the look of a young man who was enjoying the sensation of travel, of seeing what was over the next rise, of doing something meaningful with his life. It could be said that he basked for a moment in the knowledge that while others toiled in obscurity, he was living a life of remarkable opportunity, and one which might be ended on any given day.

He heaved a deep breath and relaxed for the moment. he set his shield against the tree and he rocked back and forth to stretch his back. While he stopped short of actually smiling, he looked human, almost normal, and less like a grim and implacable instrument of some far away organization.

When they found the hidden items, he looked on as the others looked them over, and nodded in agreement with Tosks idea. "I think you're right. Unless we get any more lighting, it should suit just fine." he crossed his arms. "We might even have time for a story or two before we bed down.". He glanced to Erlin "If you're so inclined..."

To Erlin, the new day exploring was certainly safer than trying to raid a bandit camp at night, in the dark and outnumbered; but it also lacked adventure.  Still, when Tosk found the hidden parcel in the trunk of the old, gnarled, lightning-scarred tree, it certainly raised spirits - who knows what kind of treasure were to be had around here, just by looking?  It seemed likely that Renee would benefit mostly from what was discovered, but if that made them a stronger, more effective group then so much the better.

Erlin thought the tree had a dark, unwholesome look to it, but she shook it off: there were certainly worse places they could camp.  And she was always ready to tell a story or recite poetry.

"After we get the fire going, and food in our bellies, I will happily tell you all a proper tale.  But for now, as we get the camp situated, here is a short poem I learned from a bard I met from Ustalev, while traveling in Mendev.  He, ummmm....he wore a lot of black..."

She wasn't certain they got what she was hinting at, but decided it didn't matter.

"What shall I sing to my lord from my window?
What shall I sing for my lord will not stay?
What shall I sing for my lord will not listen?
Where shall I go when my lord is away?

Whom shall I love when the moon is arisen?
Gone is my lord and the grave is his prison.

What shall I say when my lord comes a calling?
What shall I say when he knocks on my door?
What shall I say when his feet enter softly?
Leaving the marks of his grave on my floor.

Enter my lord.
Come from your prison.
Come from your grave,
for the moon is arisen.
Welcome, my lord."

She stifled a sudden chill that ran up her spine; Ustlav sounded to her like it had some serious issues.

Ursion shrugged off his pack and set it near the tree when it was clear that they were staying, and he listened to the melancholy song as he stated off across the rolling hillside.

When it was over, and she had explained where it had come from, Ursion nodded.

"Ustalav..." he began with an air of recognition. "Even in Cheliax it seems to come up often in conversation. As an example of just how backward a civilized nation can be, usually." he shook his head. "Somebody tried to explain their succession crisis to me once. It sounded...ugly"

He looked to Renee. "I imagine you have heard some of the same stories? with Numeria sharing a border."

He meandered over and took a closer look at the things they had found.

While Falco enjoyed the poem and was greedily eyeing the cloak and ring from the found items, he spoke up saying, “Are we sure camping right next to a tree where we found a bag of potentially valuable items is a good idea? What if the owners come back tonight? And by owners, I definitely mean the bandits who gathered and hid all of these items.”