Kon lets out an exasperated sigh, "Fine.  Let's go look for more notes and lay the remains to rest.  If someone's not able to help out, maybe we can start disassembling the camp to make use of what bits we can.  I can help look the documents over as we find them."  With another look of concern toward the approaching storm, he ducks and pushes into the trail alongside the others toward the secluded camp.

"Maybe the shovel is in the Archaeology Kit - I'm sure I saw one," Samara says, still digging through the pack, then snaps her gaze over to Saidou, "What sort of 'Occult stuff'?  Mind if I have a look?"

Saidou, picking his way along collecting the pieces and scraps that Spirit passes to him, is stacking them with care to attempt to not tear or rip them further.

To Samara, he calls out quietly- "As you wish. When we settle in later, you can help me sort them into some semblance of reason."

You make your way along the trail, devoid of any papers, and into the small clearing, no more than a dozen feet in diameter. The small one-man tent takes up fully half of this space though it is badly damaged and beyond repair, it still stands. Camping gear is scattered about and the surrounding brush is decorated by parchment and paper that has been left to wind and rain.

At the center of it all is a human mans head resting in the center of the cold firepit. The corners of his mouth have been sliced to widen into a grotesque mockery of a grin. Sharpened stones have replaced his teeth and his eyelids have been removed causing what remains of his eyes to bulge unnaturally.

Vostiun touches his forehead and pulls his hand downward as if he were smearing something along the bridge of his nose.

"May you rest in Pharasma's grace, stranger."

Vostiun takes the shovel and starts to dig a hole large enough for the head.

While the head is being given it's last rights, Haznut bows his head respectfully, before going back to keeping an eye on their surroundings. Chest by his feet, sword and shield in hands, he mutters something under his breath, something about "damned wretched creatures."

To Vostiun, Saidou would shake his head and quietly correct him. "Not a stranger. Professor. I believe to be exact, the remains of Professor Endro Zemecan. His field of research was into the occult traditions of those considered in academia to be "Primitive peoples", and it may have been his traveling companions that drew the wrath of the Water Head. Endro travels with two wolfhounds, you see..." Saidou draws a deep breath to calm himself, shaking his head in frustration. "A troubling find."

He sets his attention to collecting the documents. "Haznut, I'd like to drop off the papers in your chest, for the time being. That way they'll have some place to start drying, and not deteriorate further."

The remains of Endro Zemecan are buried with as much ceremony as could be expected given the circumstances and oncoming weather. What little remained of his camp and his gear that even appears to be usable is gathered up quickly with little ceremony and deposited into Haznut's chest, along with dozens of documents that have seen better days. What any of these items are or wisdom they may contain will have to be discerned at a later time.

The storm announces its arrival with a flash and the following crack of thunder shakes the very hearts of the adventurers. Haste is made to continue on, but the clouds open up before they get much further, finishing off any dry spots the clinging mists may have left undiscovered. The last hour or so of the journey proves to be the most miserable and if not for a fortuitous flash of lightning, they may have missed the ruins they might have been seeking.

As unimpressive as the collection of rubble was, there was a ramshackle shelter of a sort that looked like it hadn't been used since the Worldwound was still open. Branches laid across walls that were no more than stacked rubble would keep most of the rain off of the party, though a stay of any length would need to include some home repair to make the roof more serviceable. The rubble walls stood on three sides, none straight or even of equal height, but it looks to have built solely to keep the wind off of weary travelers and that job is still being performed well.

If you are Trained in Society, please make a Sciety skill check. If there are any skill checks you wish to make in regards to the ruins, please include those rolls in your post and include why you're making them.

Taking shelter at last under the ramshackle ruined structure, Saidou calls out with a cheerful tone; "Ah yes, delightful. Plenty of openings for natural light when available. Open floor plan, quite desirable. I think this still rates higher on the hospitality chart than the Inn back in town." With snark deployed, Saidou would remove his cloak, shake it hard to shed excess water, and put it back on to start examining their new surroundings.

08:56, Today: Saidou rolled 26 using 1d20+7 ((19)) for Society
This message was last edited by the player at 18:36, Mon 30 Jan 2023.

Elde Kon rolled 26 using 1d20+7 ((19)) for Society.

Kon, long since transformed back to human to avoid a clinging soaking deep in his fur, wipes the rain from his eyes and shields his face, "I think we should try to set up some cover from the rain.  While it needs patching to be serviceable, the remains of that tent could help cover more of this space."

Elde Kon rolled 13 using 1d20+7 ((6)) for Crafting to try weaving the tent between the branched roofing to help reduce the rain further.

"I'm up for any other ideas to make this place marginally less damp and to dry us off.  Anyone have the means to start a fire?"

Samara finds a place to put down her pack, finds a spot in the rain but out of the mud, and washes her feet and footgear in the rain, then comes 'inside', asking Kon, "How can I help?", and follows his instructions to improve the shelter.
"I've got nothing but my tinderbox, that won't help much."
She holds her socks 'outside' to wring them out, "Be nice to be able to summon a salamander or fire spirit or something"
"Of course," she says, moving back to her corner, "If we put together all our tinder, we might be able to make a flame big enough to make a fire out of some of this wet wood"

Kon ponders, "I think we could get away with making a small pile of thinner logs and branches, kind of like a tent with the branches on the inside, and then using a torch to get it going from in the middle.  The torch will burn at least, and that fire should eventually light the branches and then the logs.  It'll make a lot of smoke though.  Great for dispersing bees or choking out angry peasants and making them withdraw, not so much for camping.  But, sitting in the cold dressed in wet clothing is even less good.  I may not know a lot about camping out, but 'wet clothes bad' is something my parents made sure we knew."  He continues to fumble with the "roof" to try to expand the "not wet" part of the ramshackle shelter.

Vostiun shivers as he stands in the ruins. He puts down his backpack and Sargon darts out to find a dry place to bathe himself.

After wiping the water out of his eyes Vostiun mutters and gestures with his hands. Sharp crimson runes appear as Vostiun looks around the new campsite.

Vostiun casts detect magic.

Crafting roll to help patch the roof in Foundry : 13+5=18

Saidou, seeing the others busy in making the camp more livable for the storm, decides to stay out of their way and starts to claim an area near the chest. Parts of his mess kit that hold water- a collapsible cup, his pot- he would endeavor to get set on top of some of the stone wall remnants to reserve a bit of rainwater to drink or cook.

[Language unknown: "Icno ichencint a ven, Saomre! T areyinlin fi oer wheovehou inut ivear onsin for i ineainnte ndteioespe. Thoch u wit atenotter n eshiat o as pasa te der lohe stiate'iouwhe not ect at, pofo p witto ti popeol eaulesent evicil, st ateounter Of and ll thtra ic es onart menantand?"] Saidou's voice as he would address the companion riding his shoulder, with a cheerful rolling tone trying to play the gravelly Dwarven tongue, continues to just sound wrong.

Haznut sets about trying to help turn the rubble ramshackle of a shelter into something more livable. Rolled Survival in Foundry.

The party sets in straight away to the tasks of getting a better camp in place. Samara and Kon work together stringing the remains of the former professors tent through the ancient branches, greatly improving the protection the ramshackle roof provides. Haznut moves from wall to wall, scratching his beard and mumbling to himself for a bit before he settles down, realizing there really isn't much else that can be done to improve their new "home".

Flipping his travel cloak off and out toward the storm, Kon deigns to relax, body visibly slumping in time with the cloak flopping lifelessly down again.  "I hate being soaked.  Anyone tried that fire idea yet?"  He rests against the inside wall out of the rain and slumps down to the ground with his cloak beneath him.  Mumbling to himself, "I wonder if shifting back and forth will make me dryer..."

Vostiun pauses for a moment and tilts his head. "One of the things we took from the campsite is magic, Haznut. May I open your chest?"

Vostiun waits for permission before rifling through Haznut's belongings.

"Aye, by all means. Mostly stores party goods anyways." Haznut brings the chest over too Vostiun.

Vostiun opens the chest and repeats his cantrip while looking over the contents.

Vostiun starts pulling out the items collected from the professors camp; a halter for a pony or donkey, a well worn, though serviceable, satchel , a torch that has been carefully wrapped , a roll of rope, and a pile of papers and parchments that have been thoroughly soaked and many have been torn .

Vostiun puts the torch and satchel to one side. "Both of those are magic," he says as he starts to carefully sort through the papers.

"Saidou, you said one of these might be a ritual?"

Vostiun tries to spread the pages out enough that he can get a better view before checking for a magical aura again.

Playing solitaire.

"The whole thing then," Vostiun mutters to himself as he recollects the pages and places them back in the chest for safekeeping.

"Does anyone want to try and figure out what the torch and satchel do?"