"Gimme a few moments to collect my stuff", said Logresia and she went up to her room, dressed in her leather armour with her travelling coat over that and her knee-high boots on her feet.  She packed her purse and mace on her belt, her oudh in a special compartment in her backpack for ease of access and her hand crossbow also in a place of easy access, as were her fireworks.

Within three hundred heartbeats, she was back and ready to go.

Doherti was still ready. While waiting for the others he tried to get some other particulars about the child, Aissac: his size, what he had been wearing, any woodcraft he might know, or hiding places outside his home that he might try to reach if he got free.

---

I don't need actual answers to those questions. I'm just trying to establish that we are going into this with some pertinent information.

Morland makes a quick run to their home and shortly returns. "This is Aisaac's. Nobody else has used it, he's used it every day." He hands you a cleaned, worn wooden spoon.

+++

Morland answer's Doherti's questions the best he can. It's obvious the man is still in state of shock and struggles slightly to tell even mundane things coherently. In the end Doherti has a pretty clear image about a typical farm boy who's had to learn to help their family from early age; skinny, age 8, brown skin, short curly black hair.

In reply to Game Master (msg # 27):

Vander thanks the man for the spoon, wishing it had been a toy. Children invest much emotion into such things, but he himself had been too poor to get one. No doubt the same was true for the farmer.

"I shall endeavour to remedy that..." he muttered to himself without need. However, the spoon would suffice to affix the ritual version of the Arcane Mark. As soon as they got to the boy's last know location he could start the process.

ooc-10:28, Today: Vander Hickenlooper rolled 22 using 1d20+5. Int+level. Total of a 27 if natural genius in the mystic arts (+5) applies to my ritual roll. Given my high arcana class feature I can do the ritual in rounds rather than minutes.

Logresia sniffs back a tear and says, "He could be my brother.  I'm ready to move out as soon as we can."

Lady Magister still remained quiet as she stood up and looked over to Jobol for a brief moment before she walked upstairs to do whatever it is she was going to do.  These short lived races are always in such a hurry and never appreciate the beauty of time.

There was no rush from her gathering her belongs and it almost seemed that she was up there for over 15-20 minutes before even making another appearance at the top of the stairs.

"Jobol shall we see what we can do the help these ....the rest of her words were silent.  But she knew that Jobol got the end of her sentence.

This time something small was sitting upon her shoulder, it was of a strange metallic coloration and one could swear it was some sort of Dragon.

Jobol snorted derisively at Logresia calling him "young man". He was neither young, nor anything resembling common perceptions of what constitutes a "man". He was a monster and he felt no shame knowing it.

While the others gushed over the plight of the victims, Jobol merely drank his ale, somehow managing to achieve the feat of doing so in a cynical manner. As Vander performed his ritual, marking the child's spoon with his magic, Jobol squinted and kissed his teeth. "Ooooh. Might want to watch that kind of hoodoo, little mage. Might give someone the wrong impression. Might look like witchcraft to some. Seen folk burned for less." he said ominously, his expression dark, before bursting into cackling laughter at his own grim sense of humour.

He followed his mistress up the stairs, hobbling behind her whilst in plain view. Branching off to his own room briefly to collect his meagre belongings, he waited outside her door, quietly scrutinising his pig-skulled staff to idle the time, lost in his own thoughts of this situation.

At the top of the stairs, lurking behind her subserviently with his hood once again raised and concealing his face in comforting darkness, he nodded confirmation to Lady Magisters question, smirking at that which was left unspoken. He squinted up at her draconic passenger "G'morning Wyrm" he growled quietly for close ears only, his tone curiously deferential. He tapped his staff rhythmically on the stairs as they descended, punctuating the arrival of the graceful Lady Magister with the sinister rattling of the fetishes and tokens that adorned it.

In reply to Jobol Harguld (msg # 31):

Vander smirked at the gnome. "Please...they dont burn actual wizards. They excute harmless people who the community has a grudge against.

That's when a group of the so-called 'witch hunters' bravely set fire to someone without a way to burn them right back."

This message was last edited by the player at 19:25, Mon 06 Dec 2021.

Logresia sighs.  "Please!  It all depends on who you mean by 'they'.  Some 'they' burn true wizards just as soon as the helpless.  Some even feed on them or so I heard."

In reply to Logresia Skrieven (msg # 33):

Vander shrugs. "Any wizard who goes so insane as to get an entire community after them does not get excuted by angry farmers. Literal champions have to rise up and bring down a person who can command the power of the overworld. Or other wizards do it because some idiot necromancer is making the entire group of them look bad." He shrugs.

"That sort of thing is why Wizards live in those tall towers." He pauses. "Not just the Male wizards either. Although to be fair, there is a lot of tower measuring and staff waving between male wizards." He sighs at that.

Lady Magister's eyebrow arched at hearing Vander's comments and now she understands and is thankful that her Powers comes from within herself not from ready book or old smelly tomes.  They take forever to reach the levels of what a Sorceress can and one don't need to worry about towers or staffs.

She gracefully descends down the stairs and into the lobby area where the others were waiting.

"It seems that the morning is already starting out with such joyful discussions.

Logresia grins at Lady Magister and says.  "Well I'd sing a joyful song instead but Jobol's not a fan of caterwauling.  Besides, I'm not feeling very joyful at the moment and even I can't stand the sound of dirges."

Jobol chuckled perversely at the mention of towers and staves, but refrained from commenting. He doggedly followed his mistress, leaning on his staff to support his twisted posture. He glared at all the others and made mental note of the equipment they now bore. "Well. Are we going or what?" He snipped impatiently.

It's a sunny day with slight breeze and mild temperatures. Clouds roll fast over the sky, no rain in sight.

Morland leads you out from the village through the gate on the palisade wall. Two guards wearing the Emperors emblems - local thinly manned militia - stand in watch at the gate as you pass. They nod in greeting to Tristan and casually eye the rest of you. One of them calls out to Doherti:

"Good to see you again, guidesman! When you're ready, I'd like to have a second chance in that game of dice!"

The farmer heads east along barely visible representation of a wagon trail. The scenery is wavy grassland with many low hills on the horizon, many of them having remnants of ancient structures. Occasional patches of bush with few trees here and there break the open landscape.

Tristan walks alongside Morland and doesn't speak much. About an half an hour later the farmer turns to the north from the road. You soon arrive to a spot where there are two sacks of turnip roots, one empty, one nearly full, two hoes and a simple wooden rake haphazardly lying on the ground. The ground has been worked on - early summer planting work-in-progress.

Vanderperforms his ritual which takes few minutes. [OOC: Your roll was a success but would you paint us a picture how you perform the actual ritual and what you try to accomplish with this, please?]

The place looks somewhat trampled but Doherti has no issues picking up something that doesn't belong.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:35, Mon 06 Dec 2021.

In reply to Game Master (msg # 38):

Once at the last spot the boy was in, Vander took out the spoon. He began reciting strange words, and moving the spoon around like he was conducting a band with it. Then he released the item, which floated off by itself. Sigils of light formed around the flying spoon.

Vander spoke the strange words more rapidly.  Soon images of the boy appeared. Like a spectral version of the child, holding the very real spoon. Eating invisible meals with it, using it as a pretend sword, putting it in his pocket. The actions becoming faster and faster.

"By the power of the overworld, you shall bare my Mark!" Vander yelled at the spoon. A mystic symbol of light burned into the item, and then shot away, and then paused, as if waiting to be followed.

"Let's get going!" He said to the others, ready to chase down the flying spoon.

Doherti stiffens for a moment when he hears this, but then ducks his head slightly and keeps moving.


Doherti joins the chase after the floating spoon, and explains his findings as the group moves along.

"I discerned three sets of tracks. One was like a goat's hoof, another like a large paw. The owners were two-legged, and each of the prints is a foot across." He considers what he's just said, and amends: "One of my feet across. The third set appears to belong to the boy, but this indicates that he was not picked up or dragged, and I see no signs of a struggle. Still, I see no reason not to proceed with haste." He continues doing so.

Once there's any sign that the group is close to the boy, Doherti will begin calling his name.

---

That's everything Doherti knows. I'm going to include the GM's exact words in the spoiler block below. Anyway who asks Doherti for more details is welcome to consult that. Apparently, Doherti doesn't know kind of creatures created the tracks.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
In addition to human footprints that might be Morland's and Aisaac's there are two sets of unique footprints; one set of a some bipedal creature with goat's hooves and the second, also bipedal, of large paws. Both footprint types are a good 1 feet in diameter. As you start following them they leave towards east and with them a child's footprints, those of Aisaacs. Shouldn't be hard to trace. What ever happened, it looks like the boy walked away with the two other creatures side by side on his own feet. At least there isn't any signs of struggle.

---

[OOC: Let's move on.]

The tracks Doherti found twist and turn, following lower points of the land and through many bushes and tall grass, as well as through large boulders where there's cover from prying eyes. In general the tracks lead towards east. After a while you all see the footprints on a spot with softer, muddy ground; those of massive hoofs, size of a dinner plate, and only slightly smaller paw-prints with long nails. Between them are much shorter steps, footprints of a small humanoid. In most places only Doherti is able to see where the tracks go and follows them without problems.

At one time your party is startled by a large swarm of Zylash, small predatory bipedal dinosaur-analogues only 2-3 feet tall each, running literally through your party when they get startled by you in a ravine.

After 3 or so hours a taller hill with ruins made of cream colored stone on the top becomes visible. There appears to be two rings of crumpling walls, one inside of the other towards the top of the hill where there are remains of a some taller building, perhaps a fortification or a tower base that stands towards the sky like a broken tusk. Both walls have toppled over in many places littering the ground with boulders and blocks. In other places the wall stands nearly 20 feet high.

"That's what we call The Broken Tooth. It's an ancient citadel of ages long gone. An abandoned place for what I know. I hope it has remained so." Tristan says under his breath and wipes sweat from his forehead.

After one more hour the tracks lead you uphill to the central ruins, the Broken Tooth itself. Only outer walls of the building remain, a square made of stone some 50 feet across. Still erect walls are tallest here, up to 40 feet. The inside is in shade. Grass grows here as well as bushes up to 3 feet high. There seems to be clear path through the bushes and rocks, a path well and often used. In the center of the square are remains of a larger camp fire. Next to the fire there are 3 carcasses of prairie wolf, all gutted, torn apart and partially grilled and eaten, now a feast to the swarm of black flies. In the middle of the north wall there's a thicker section of yellowish stone pierced by a triangular dark entrance descending to darkness.

Morlay, who's not spoken a word so far, says with hoarse voice: "That's why we don't come here. By Gods, they've brought my Aisaac here?!"

Jobol followed behind the rest of the group, his short legs and crooked back giving him no need to fake his struggle to keep pace, even with the assistance of his staff. He batted off the Zylash grumpily as they jostled him but kept his silence and maintained it throughout their approach through the ruins. By the time they reached the Broken Tooth, he was sweating and finally spoke. "Don't mind me." he spat "I'll keep up just fine." As he grumbled sourly, he rolled his lumpen shoulder and cracked his neck, stretching out the kinks. "Besides, I'm all warmed up now. Hehe heh." His stench was amplified as he fluttered his robe vigorously to get some air. "Oooh, that's better."

All of a sudden, there was a shift in his stance and his attitude, all pretence of the dirty, uncouth hobo disappearing as Jobol scrutinised the approach to the keep with a professional eye. He glanced over at Lady Magister "With your permission Mistress. I reckon me, Wyrm and Dog-boy there" he nodded at Doherti "go ahead to investigate before you follow on. If there's trouble, we'll send Wyrm flittering back to get you and the Mageling...Oh and Screech. No offence, Missy. Forgot about you for a minute there." He finished with a condescending nod to Logresia. His bad humour and filthy habits might have gone but apparently he still wasn't willing to let go of his ill manner.

He turned to Doherti "What do you say Dog-boy? Think you can keep up without giving up the jig?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:31, Tue 07 Dec 2021.

"They might have led him here, but he came under his own power, which usually means willingly. It could mean trickery or coercion."

Doherti takes out his hatchet, and readies a light source in preparation for entering the underground. Before entering, he'll call down the tunnel for the boy. He'll also wait for others to prepare to join him.

Doherti gives no indication that he realizes "Dog-boy" refers to him.

Lady Magister gave Jobol a nod and then looked to the small dragon upon her shoulder as he keeps referring it to Wyrm.
"Do you wish to spy ahead with them or stay here? as she asked her question she smiled to it.

It was safe upon her shoulder and didn't have to do much along the way of getting her so it was good to show some sign of concern.

She wondered what kind of spell was placed upon the child to willingly come this far away from home.

Logresia has a little more than an inkling about who or what might want to attract the child to here.  She shrugged and waited for the scouting to be done although she did say, "I'm sure the key is where you left it Jobol but hopefully your mother has tidied up a bit."

The fey-dragon slithers quickly and smoothly under Lady Magister’s armpit, up over her back to her shoulders again and looks intently at Jobol and Doherti, its reptilian eyes glimmering with intelligence. It makes no effort to move from its comfortable spot.

Doherti, when you go closer to the dungeon entrance and look what’s there, you can see worn stone stairs made of solid blocks leading straight down some 30 feet towards north, where it seems to open to a larger chamber with some rubble and small bouders on the floor. It's pitch black down there.

Doherti raises his torch to pierce the darkness a bit. "Aisaac!" he calls.

When he can he conveys his findings to the others, including the fact that the passage appears to have been traveled recently. Something large, with small gray scales, must have brushed against the walls.

"The boy's trail is obscured, but it also doesn't lead anywhere else." He hefts his hatchet. "Arm or prepare yourselves for close-quarters if you're going in. I'll lead the way."

Only echo replies to your calls. Doesn't seem to stir up anything else either.

"Well", said Logresia, "I suppose they're aware of our presence, if this isn't just a passage to somewhere else.  This might work.  Close your eyes and cover your ears everybody."