Audgrim gets a coil of rope from dark brown leather backpack.

Audgrim puts a coil of rope in dark brown leather backpack.


Several days have passed since a group explorers left Pieros to update, correct and create maps of the deepest jungle areas upon the Saffron Chain. However, with no sign of return, are rumours starting to form that they were captured or worse by a party of Skal'dajans. Collected together a new party has been formed to try and locate them, an older patron of the explorers leading the group out from the city of Pieros towards the edge of the jungle, sharing with him these words:

"The jungles are not always kind to us. You will need to watch out for the five dangers of error, plants, the creatures, getting lost and water. Keep your eyes about, your wits sharp. Those that I may have lost to the Skal'dajans were not rookies at this game."

Pointing his finger through part of a clearing within the jungle, he is nodding to the group.

"Be safe. I hear they were making their way up a mountain. So follow their tracks. You'll do alright."

Audgrim gets a woodland green cloak from dark brown leather backpack.

Orland cannot help but ask, "That's four errors... what's the fifth?" The young Amadeo lordling had intended to go on this nature walk with Adrienne, but was pulled into this gig instead. Helping was helping and it was a change of pace from organizing messengers in the correspondence tent. Then when the older patron of the explorers stops at the clearing within the jungle, Orland asks, "Is the fifth leaving you behind? I feel like that'd be a bad idea. Are you coming?"

"Unless you mean error as one of the five, but that's pretty vague..." Orland adds.

Harlex had spent a delightful few days tracking down some honeymooners along the coast from Pieros and decided to drink himself into missing his boat back to Lenosia. When he awoke, sobered up, and wasn't quite sure what to do with himself he got wise to these missing explorers and volunteered to tag along. He's as good a tracker as he is a fighter, which is saying something. The Sword of Lenosia, however, is not wildly sociable and lingers to the side as the instruction is given. He looks out ahead toward the jungle beyond the edge of the city. "Talking too much," he comments aside to Orland. "That's the fifth error."

An old hand at the kind of forest scouting that nevertheless comes with very different forest, Tikva seems a little hypervigilant as she glances around the thick greener. Her bow strapped to her back, coil of rope hanging from her hip, her mouth kicks up at one corner at the reference to rookies. "Anybody can get their ass handed to them, old or young," she mutters. Her bright gaze flickers across the others. She's disinclined to spend a lot of time on words, wired taut with repressed energy and tension as she begins to prowl forward.

Nodding slowly to the guide, Yrsa glances to Orland. "Error, error is a danger," she murmurs, her Northlands accent particularly out of place in this tropical environment. She looks in the direction he pointed to, heading slowly across the clearing to the route indicated. She has her axe out, gripped comfortably in one hand, crouching to investigate the signs of people passing.

Audgrim stuffs away a cloak that really won't fit that well in these environments, favoring a greenish one instead that will make him blend in much better. He slings the backpack onto his back again and adjusts the quiver and bow, nodding at the veteran that led them to the first leg of the trip. "So, don't eat anything we don't know what it is, don't trust any creatures, don't get lost, drink water and... " He snorts at Harlex's suggestion. "Being noisy," he tacks on, but he gives Orland a little grin. He sticks close to Yrsa - both of them are hired on as mercenary scouts from the Crimson Blades. One glance at his compatriots, and a nod, and then he starts up the path - already scanning for tracks.

Orland side glances at Harlex, "Talking too much... Not talking enough either. Do you know how many plans go awry by not settling up front who is the combatants, who are the sneakers, who are the... diplomats, who are that or this. I mean this is a walk through the jungle sure..." His eyes flicker to Audgrim then, "I'm only noisy when I mean to be, sir." He expands his hands outward, "So you're all just going to march into an unknown jungle without asking this guy--" he points at their tour guide, "What sort of plants, creatures, .. we should look out for?" He turns to the Tour Guide who is the Older Patron of the Explorers, "Any advice? What creatures? What plants? Got a book for that?"

"The fifth is errors," Thalamina murmurs. "Like talking too loud." The young redhead has attached herself to Tikva, drifting nearby the older redhead. Her hair is in tight braids, held back from her face, and her bow and quiver on her back. She flashes a smile of amusement at Harlex, but otherwise silently follows her own advice.


Grinning slightly, the older patron of the explorers draws his lips up to Orland in reply, "Error. Human error." There is a certain stress on the second word of his before turning away from the group.

Walking away, he's calling back to them and answering Orland once more. "You six will be fine. There are more of you than things that can go wrong. Worst case the sixth one learns from the five others and comes back."

Now before the group, the jungle itself presents itself as an open doorway. The thickness, the smells. All in front with a faint path to lead the way.

Harlex tips his head to the older patron and somewhere in the middle of Orland going on he's walked ahead a bit toward this path they're intended to follow. But not too far, that would be one of those /human errors/. Safety in numbers and all that, even a wolf like him knows the strength of a pack. "Let's move then," he comments back to the others, "Wasting daylight."

Tikva cants a look over her shoulder, winks at Thalamina with the sliced edge of a dexter smile for Harlex for that shared note of humor, and advances - wordless - into the jungle. The humid air is overwarm in her nose, making each breath one to focus on as she moves. She hugs the edges of the path, keeping an eye out for any unusual movements amongst the liana vines and spongey fungus, except that she's unaccustomed to the jungle, and any motion, any sound could be unusual. Shit, was that a frog?

"I want your name!" In a 'I'm going to report you for not being thorough enough with me to the Explorer society' and with a finger point at the guy walking away, grinning at them. Him. "I wish Adrienne was here," Orland mutters to himself, eyeing the jungle with a brooding sort of scowl. With their potential resource of information walking away, he watches the group ahead of him, "Let it be heard, I'll be the sixth." He checks his gear, but he's already picked out someone he's going to walk beside or with. HARLEX. That's right Harlex. Orland jogs ahead to catch up, "I'm Orland." He offers.

It seems that Yrsa is content to let Harlex lead. She knows him at least peripherally through the Blades, and trusts to a degree that he knows what he's doing. She walks behind him, keeping an eye on the left side of the trail, keeping alert for any sign of others passing through, or the group they're trying to find splitting off in an unexpected direction.

Audgrim isn't saying anything - he gives Orland a light touch to the shoulder to nudge him encouragingly along before he walks past him, keeping a steady pace. But he's scanning the surrounding jungle and the path they walk on, looking for anything strange or suspicious. He stays in the rear, but ahead of Orland there.

Thalamina is, likewise, content to follow Harlex. She slides a narrowed glance to Orland, her lips pressed into a flat line, which fades into a muted smile as she catches Tikva's wink. With careful feet she picks up her pace enough to keep time with the Grayson Princess.


Within the jungle itself, the lush vegetation beneath feet softly cushions each footstep. The vines rolling thick down wide trees, the clearing marks from the explorers there before the group entering in.

The sounds, though, bouncing around the heavy canopy up high. View of green plant life spreading almost from corner-to-corner of the eyes as each footstep along the lost explorers' trail sends them in deeper.

As they reach the clearing and the trail funnels them deeper into the wild, Tikva crouches briefly to study the more obvious signs of prints, and then checks around the immediate area for signs of broken vegetation or any more subtle clues to direction, or to the amount of time that has passed leaving tears in the vegetation untouched. She chews thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek, looking up and ensuring that her study doesn't separate her from the others.

Harlex is in the midst of regretting his aesthetic when Orland jogs up to him. The black is menacing alright and the armor is protective but damned if he isn't hotting the southern life. He moves very quietly along the ground, mindful of his steps. He looks aside to the man and then continues walking. He takes a brief head count. Yrsa, Audgrim, Thalamina, Tikva. "Harlex. We get far enough ahead, we're likely to find where they first camped. Go sniff around for scat or smothered campfires," he suggests to Orland in a low, rough tone.

Orland eyes Thalamina right back, with a smile. Though as they start through the forest in earnest, he doesn't speak. It seems that is the choice plan for the group. When he's told to go sniff around for shit, he backs off from the man, in a casual slowing his walking pace as he diverts to looking for signs of life out here. Plenty signs of life. He looks upward, "Ooooh look at that. Looks like someone cut down those vines." At this point he ends up near Audgrim again, "I'm Orland." He offers quickly, in a low voice, "Shouldn't we at least establish some sort of signal to alert eachother with if we spot something that we don't want to have spot us?"

"Audgrim Veilandir," Audgrim introduces himself along the way, in a quiet murmur - no point being loud, after all. He seems content to stay in the back of the group, guarding their rear. "Waving and pointing or saying 'look there', is the usual way," he replies wryly.

Yrsa simply keeps on walking. Not talking, bantering or explaining, just keeping her eyes open and her mouth shut. She's all focus, watching both sides of the trail now for signs of splitting. After all, others are covering the front and rear, it seems like a good thing to do.


Leading in deeper, the hooting and howling that started to build slowly rises. Buzzing of flies, of bigger beasts likely up in the canopies, the clearing made by the explorers is starting to narrow. What was before a wider cut through the vines, a safe clearing to allow their eyes to see, begins to narrow.

Coming soon to a point where the cutting stops. The dirt and vegetation upon the floor marked heavier, disturbed and dragged as if feet were moving through it fast.

Tikva checks perception and survival at normal. Tikva is successful.

Harlex checks wits and survival at normal. Harlex is marginally successful.

Thalamina checks perception and survival at normal. Thalamina marginally fails.

Audgrim checks perception and survival at normal. Audgrim is marginally successful.

Yrsa checks perception and survival at normal. Yrsa is successful.

Orland checks perception and survival at normal. Orland marginally fails.

Tikva tugs gently at Thalamina's elbow, beside her, and points at the end point of the slashed vines. "Machetes stop there, look," she says, her voice a hush. Then she picks up the pace, following along the marks of feet, fingertips touching lightly at the bole of a tree as she scours close to the earth. "Pursuing or pursued?" she wonders.

Orland ahhs quietly to Audgrim's answer, "How very useful that'll be. I'll make sure to wave my arms big and furiously.. to call attention to myself and the things that we may not want to see us. Effective." Dripping sarcasm. "Here I thought I was the greenhorn." He grows quiet at all the hooting and howling going on up in the canopies. He sticks close to Audgrim then.

Deeper now in the thick of things, Harlex draws up his hood to evade the dull hum of insects near his ears. They come to that wall of vegetation and he stops, squats, runs the claw-tip of his black gauntlet in the dirt where its disturbed. Judging its size and width then looking ahead. He glances back toward Tikva and nods in agreement. "Can't see anything ahead, likely they were running from something behind them."

Audgrim halts immediately upon realising there's tracks here that need examining more thoroughly than just following. He crouches down to study it in that angle, then carefully shifts around the edge of what seems to have been something troublesome happening. "Careful, don't walk there," he tells Orland distractedly as he tries to make a mental picture of what might have happened, and look for other tracks than the ones made by the explorers.

Even a young, baby scout can see that the path has come to an end-ish here. Thalamina doesn't try to push her way to the front, but squints into the dense vegetation, seeking the path. Maybe they went back the way they came! Probably not. She thus doesn't provide any insight into their quarry's direction, but does direct a low whisper toward Orland: "You're literally already speaking. I don't think 'look there' is going to be any more disruptive than your constant stream of chatter."

While others check the path and the vines, Yrsa straightens and looks around. She's letting them sort out the 'where did the others go', and opts to keep an eye and ear on the surrounding jungle instead. It'd be kinda embarrassing to die so close to the start, after all.

Orland glances at Thalamina for the low whisper, replying with a soft, "You need not worry, we'll never be friends, so you'll not have to hear my voice after this day." His smile is cutting, whispering on still, "Now go on ahead, Audgrim has got these tracks covered." Which he does keep from bumbling over at the last second for Audgrim's warming. He eventually has nothing further to add, looking more serious as he looks to Audgrim, then hears Harlex confirm something of the last batch of explorers running from something. Orland's eyes turn the way they came, searching the jungle for signs of anything that could be a threat.


With Tikva and Harlex's assessment and Audgrim crouching down by the tracks themselves, the sign of them being pursued is confirmed with the heavier boot prints. Clearly stopping, dragging their feet. But no blood and no signs of wounds.

The hush words between Orland and Thalamina almost a struggle over the buzzing and, just caught through, that unmistakable sound of water.

With Yrsa's gaze, the inspecting of the surrounding jungle, just across in a northwest direction there are marks of slashing upon the trees and in the direction of that watery sound.

Tikva studies the ground. She traces the shapes of bootprints, brow furrowed. She stands straight, then, following the path of the dragged feet. It's not usual to her experience. Her lips form words, voice barely expressing: "Something dragging....?"

Thalamina shifts her gaze up to the canopy, eyes tracking any flits of color and movement from the local fauna. Followed by a sweep of her gaze down to Tikva, scanning for the signs the elder redhead is reading.

Audgrim now unhooks the crossbow from its simple holster and puts a bolt in it. It seems like a prudent thing. He nods in the direction of the water, where the tracks now lead, and starts slowly in that direction, now favoring stealth and caution.

Lifting her arm, Yrsa gestures in the direction of the watery sound, and points out the slashing. "Might've tried to cut a way through. Or it's a mark from someone else perhaps." She doesn't speculate further, her attention returning to keeping eyes and ears open for other dangers.

Orland spots Audgrim cranking a bolt into the crossbow and his eyes widen. A knife is in his hand quickly enough. Now it's time to get serious. He follows Audgrim's lead, keeping slow and breaking formation from following directly, but gesturing he's going to work in parallel with Audgrim but a short distance off to the right side.

Orland wields Red Feast, a crescent-shaped rubicund knife.

Audgrim wields darkwood crossbow.

Harlex eases to his full height and rests a hand lazily on the hilt of his sword, though it isn't purposeful. More just a swordsman at rest, thinking about things. He studies the knife and crossbow. "Don't hurt yourselves," he comments aside. He studies the slashes that Yrsa points out. "Good eye. Move in that direction?"


With no danger forming around the group, the sounds of the jungle continue to hang in the air. The buzzing, the smells all remaining like they were before the group came to a stop. The air thickening, though, from the humidity increasing.

As Harlex is pointing in the direction of Yrsa's gesture, one solid vine lands with a sharp thud.

The branches behind disturbed as if more than one ran through.

Tikva's head turns toward the break of sound, not entirely unlike a hound alerting for prey.

Audgrim's sharp amber gaze whips behind from the sound and he's on high alert, but not twitchy enough that bolt goes flying. He grimaces, then crouches down a bit to make himself a smaller target as he continues, scanning the tracks and the surrounding jungle as best as he can.

Orland WAVES his arms in the AIR and willows whips them around, pointing at the direction of the noise!

Yrsa nods slightly to Harlex, even as others move towards the sound of water and crashing of vines. She remains where she is unless the whole group moves, still keeping that eye out for danger so they can focus on studying the marks and tracks. Casually, she stows her axe and unshoulders her bow, taking out an arrow but not nocking it or drawing just yet. Might just be the prickly, sweaty heat, but she's a little on-edge.


With several in the group glancing towards the sound of the breaking vine, some preparing themselves even with that sound and the markings in the floor, they lead themselves on through the jungle in that direction

Eventually, the group is getting through the thickness itself and with the sound of running water starting to be heard in the distance.

Upon the floor itself, the marks from the explorer clearing starting to make themselves more known once more upon the floor. The group finding that the trees are starting to thin out the closer that they get to the sound of the water.

Harlex moves toward the sound of the water and though he doesn't arm himself with any of his myriad pointy-tools, he minds his steps and moves with a measure of stealth as they begin to approach what may well be a river and where there are rivers, usually, there's life. He glances back at the others, just making sure, nods to them and continues forward with careful steps.

Audgrim gives Orland a quick grin - but he stays quiet and just shakes his head in some wry amusement as he moves on, sniffing the air now and then or pausing to just listen. As the forest opens and the tracks are more clear, he is able to scan further - the vegetation makes visibility quite hard, but this might be better for that - and for enemies too, which he realises.

On approach towards the river, Tikva tracks the changes in sign, hunting for fresher prints in the wet ground. The scent of fresh water changes the atmosphere slightly in the humid weight of the heavy jungle air. "We'll want to hunt for signs of a ford or a bridge, see if they crossed, or if we'll be following the current," she mutters aside to those nearest her, raking a hand back through her short hair, which sweat and humidity have flattened and made far less fluffy than usual.

Orland grins at Audgrim, appreciating the sense of humor. Though he continues to move when Audgrim does, staying in that formation he decided to flow with, mindful of where he steps in case of plants that could attack him. Or big ants. Or things that bite. He's careful, slowly stepping through. Apparently he's trusting in whatever Audgrim decides to do, mimicking as he pauses, scans, and takes in the sights and the variations in noises. "See any signs they crossed, Audgrim?" asked in a short low whisper to the other man. No arm waves this time.

Yrsa brings up the rear this time, doing a kind of casual sideways walk so she can keep her attention both front and back, whilst also trying not to brush against any of the abundant flora. She pays half an ear to what the others in the group are discussing, but most of her focus remains on the surrounding jungle.


Arriving closer to the water's edge the strong smell of moisture, the air hanging heavy, the group step through the last of the thickness. Bringing themselves out, they see vine-like plant life growing across the edge of the wadable river before them. Stocky looking pigs near the water quickly turning and running into the thinner growth of the jungle.

Across on the other side of the river, a leather backpack is seen against the bottom of a cliff-face that steers up high in the skyline. Rope danging down from the cliff, clearly leaving a sign that someone has certainly been here.

The water itself is strong but not too strong to push through. Coming up likely to mid-chest high in the shortest of the group. Fortunately, slightly further down a tree has been felled and pushed across the water to the other side. These explorers knew more than one way to get over water it seems.

Harlex heads over to the backpack and rifles through it quickly, gauging the supplies present. What they didn't manage to take. "No way they hauled captives up a cliff by rope," he says. "When you got a hostage, you stay on flat earth. Too risky." Probably had a hostage or two in his career, by that sentiment. One doesn't end up looking like him if you've lived a sinless life. He moves on to try and cross the felled tree. Not looking to get wet, if he can help it.

Harlex checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Harlex is marginally successful.

Thalamina checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Thalamina is marginally successful.

Tikva checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Tikva marginally fails.

Orland checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Orland marginally fails.

Yrsa checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Yrsa marginally fails.

Audgrim checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Audgrim is marginally successful.

Tikva checks dexterity and survival at normal. Tikva is marginally successful.

Orland checks luck and survival at normal. Orland is marginally successful.

Yrsa checks dexterity and survival at normal. Yrsa is marginally successful.

"Yes, this makes no sense," Audgrim agrees with Harlex, looking up at the other side, and the rope there. "Maybe they came here earlier, they were attacked when they were moving back?" he says thoughtfully. He moves to follow Harlex, steps careful but also not too slow, balancing out on the log.

Tikva nods acknowledgment to Harlex's point without thinking too hard about hostage takers versus hostage releasers. Heading towards the log, she hops up onto it and throws her arms out for balance. The shift of the log underfoot leads her to make a squeaky nose, pinwheeling her arms as she teeters halfway across the crossing. She drops, straddling the log and gripping it with white knuckles; without dignity, she hauls herself the rest of the way across, scooting in long, hauling scrapes of leather and steel. If not for the shielding of armor, she'd have splinters in her thighs for weeks.

Thalamina uses her hands to scramble up onto the fallen tree, brushing the dust of the bark off on her leather pants as she stands. Arms held out from her body for balance, she makes her way across without incident and jumps off onto the sandy dirt of the opposite shore.

Harlex manages across with apt grace and lands on the other side. The empty backpack is abandoned and he studies the forty foot rope that spirals upward, bobbing against the cliff face from the breeze above. He tugs at it a bit, measuring its strength. "Or they thought they escaped," he says to Audgrim thoughtfully, "Got up here to get away from them that was doing the hunting. Who knows." He spits on the ground. "Guess we're going up."

Orland looks back to Yrsa, nodding to her and her efforts of taking up the rear. He keeps awareness of where she is, before he looks to Audgrim. He'll go the way of the Audgrim, which is apparently the log... The log is slippery, and busy. And. Wet. WET. When it's his turn, he realizes he's apparently not wearing log crossing boots. Orland is having a little struggle with his balance on the first step... but instinct has him WOBBLE RUN his away across... SPEED more than grace! "Ouuutt of my wayyyy..." he hisses to anyone dawdling in front of him. His arms jet out to the side and he more than ones looks like he's got to use his whole body to instinctually correct his over correction, making it at to the very end where he slips and catches his knee on a jagged branch and does a tumble to the river bank. But he's safe. He rolls himself over, dusts himself off, and looks like he could've handled that better, with a nasty look at the log. Evil thing.

The last to cross, Yrsa takes it steady, one foot then the next. It's going well until she's almost to the other side, her foot slipping on an unexpectedly slimy patch of moss. She teeters, balance a precarious thing before finding enough footing to simply fling herself forwards to the bank. Sure, her booted feet end up dragging in the water, but she's soon out and whole, if rather more damp than she'd wanted to be. Though it's difficult to tell given the heat and humidity and sweat.

There's a few wobbling moments as Audgrim crosses the river, but he makes it to the other side without falling in or having to crawl, and then waits on the other side for the others, offering a hand out near the end to pull people over if they want it. "Or, the rope was left by the attackers," he adds on as another theory. He shrugs and nods, cause there's only one way to find out. He jumps back as Orland comes tumbling, mostly to give him room and not be knocked over in the process. Everyone made it across - so he makes no comment, just turns and heads to the rope. There's a glance at Harlex, studying his gear, especially the Shadowmeld; he never gets too close to the impressive warrior, not even now. Maybe it's just cause he wants to give Harlex room to fight and not be in the way.


With footmarks in the cliffside, the river behind the group rolling, the rope dangles. Swaying and staying solid with Harlex's tug. Peering further up there are knots every-so-often in it to secure what was not one VERY long piece of rope but several together.

But with the assumed route of the explorers known, the group has up to go.

Tikva's first few steps after the log are a bit bow-legged. She shakes out one leg, and then switches to shake out the other, before proffering Orland a wordless hand up from the ground. She touches her other hand to the rope at her belt, but with the path upwards very clear, she kind of shrugs. No questions here.

Tikva checks strength and athletics at easy. Tikva marginally fails.

Audgrim checks strength and athletics at easy. Audgrim is successful.

Orland checks strength and athletics at easy. Orland is successful.

Thalamina checks strength and athletics at easy. Thalamina is successful.

Yrsa checks strength and athletics at easy. Yrsa is successful.

Orland takes the offered hand with a firm nod, "Thank you." He makes for the backpack on the ground by the cliff and pries it open. He's snoopy. Did they leave any clues in there? Food? Something. Knife? Map? Anythinnnnnng. Is luck on his side? He checks the pockets and then tosses it down, with a huff, "Nothing." As for climbing up the rope, he eyes it with a faint grimace, "That's a long way up." He grins to the others, "You all first." He moves to Yrsa then, "Hey. I'm Orland. I saw you back there," someone should be face palming right now, "you're pretty good at this stuff. How long you been in Pieros?" Definitely someone should be eye rolling. Maybe Raven, if she were here.

Audgrim checks strength and athletics at easy. Audgrim is marginally successful.

Thalamina checks strength and athletics at easy. Critical Success! Thalamina is spectacularly successful.

Harlex checks strength and athletics at easy. Harlex is marginally successful.

Harlex scales up the rope one hand over the other, legs crossed appropriately, scooting up the length of rope until he can reach the top of it at a steady pace. It sways some, but that's to be expected. He moves very naturally this way, plenty of practice one can assume.

Rope - or free climbing? Audgrim picks the rope any day, he's not here to show off, even assuming he can. So, he grabs the rope and starts a steady and relatively fast climb up, using feet and hands both with the rope to secure himself - but he has to wait till Harlex is at least almost up, cause six people on one rope might be a bit too optimistic. No idea what it's attached to up there.

Glancing only briefly towards Orland, Yrsa motions for him to climb. "Up." She doesn't answer his questions just yet, busy keeping watch to make sure the group doesn't become a neat column of sitting ducks. Her bow remains out, though without arrow nocked or drawn. Just in case.

Scaling the rope, Tikva's grip slips and she slides halfway back down the rope again, making it wobble and swing as her shoulder bashes into the rock. She yelps, flailing, and then bites her fist to keep the volume down. Thalamina catches the rope while she dangles from it, and by main strength keeps it steady, helping Tikva back up the last few feet she lost.

Orland puts his hands up dismissively, backing up from Yrsa at the singular word that she gives him. "I'm goinnng..." he whispers at her, though he looks up with some skeptical suspicion at hearing the yelp. "It's okay, I'll wait..." he crosses his arms and waits for the ropes to hold less people than they are, turning his back toward the cliff wall to keep his eyes alert on the clearing around them. Once the ropes up above get a little clearer, each length tied off, he gives a salute to Yrsa, "Stay safe." Then he sheathes his knife and grabs a hold of the rope. He does climb in a similar fashion to Harlex, worming his way up.

There's a moment on the rope when it swings and tugs, Tikva's precarious situation giving Audgrim pause near the top. But then he stiffens oddly, and shakes his head, and one hand taps on the side of his head. "Shit," he is heard hissing. "Something's near - something bad, stay alert - just trust me, no time to explain." He starts up faster, to get to the edge behind Harlex.


With the first up on the cliff being Harlex, the signs of the encampment are before him and soon after the rest of the group with Yrsa bringing up the rear. An extinguished firepit blowing in the wind as five tents flap. Blood trailing out from the edge of the tents past the firepit and then to the cliff edge.

The wind itself is almost howling through the ears of the group as chattering is heard. Building slowly, gradually. Chattering that sounds... eerie.

At the top of the cliff, Harlex considers jumping back down. He doesn't much care for chattering and its making the hairs on his neck stand. His left hand goes down to his scabbard, pressing his thumb into the wheel-shaped guard of his sword and letting just enough glaring steel loose that it shines in the hot light, shimmering in an odd color. He glances around and moves cautiously forward. "Weapons," he calls back to the others without looking at them. He doesn't shout, but there's heat in his voice. It isn't a suggestion.

Hand moving for her bow, Tikva nocks an arrow, balancing the haft of the weapon as she advances on soft, hushed footsteps. Her eyes have gone wide, her glance scanning back and forth over the bloody ruin of the camp.

hand=hands

Thalamina flashes a bright smile a Tikva, once the princess is stable, and clambers up the rest of the way. Up top, she moves to the camp. A booted toe pokes at the remains of the firepit, searching for - nothing in particular. She swings her bow off her back and into her hand, while the other grabs for an arrow, though she doesn't yet nock arrow to string.

Audgrim's crossbow is in his hand the moment he's reached the top and he's crouching down, fanning out to cover the ones still coming over the edge, crossbow held firm, his gaze scanning for movement. "Abyssal," he murmurs, craning his neck and once more tapping the side of his head, as if something is bothering him.

Crouching once she reaches the top of the cliffside, moving away from the edge a few metres, Yrsa glances around. Lots of bows, and so despite preferring that weapon herself, she chooses her axe, moving to stand closer to Harlex. Not close enough to make a target of them easily together, but enough that she can follow is cues.

Orland is up next, scurrying up over the top and pulling himself up on his belly before he gets his feet underneath him. He considers the chittering with an aloofness that shows no hint of fear what so ever. He does take out a few weapons, one knife in either hand. He glances at the bloodstains but there's no reaction from him regarding it, but he does tug down on his sleeve a little, to make sure nothing is showing as he yanks up the hem of his gloves too. Armor adjusted. Very good. Knives gripped, he tries to find somewhere to use as cover.


To the eastern side of the cliff, using the cover and trying the element of surprise, nine heavily diseased looking men jumping over and begin to scream. Screaming and with the warnings from both Audgrim and Halrex has the group quite prepared.

With their heads up, eyes lighting up wild, their voices are hissing in unison while lifting rusty looking short swords up overhead.

"You DISTURB us as THEY did. You FOUL here."

Harlex wields the whisperer of names.

Harlex checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Harlex is successful.

Audgrim checks dexterity and archery at normal. Audgrim is marginally successful.

Tikva checks dexterity and archery at normal. Tikva is marginally successful.

Thalamina checks dexterity and archery at normal. Thalamina fails.

Orland checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Orland fails.

Yrsa checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Yrsa is marginally successful.

Lip curling back from her teeth at the sudden onrush of discordant screeching, Tikva lifts her bow and prepares to fire. "Ooh, ugly," she mutters, drawing back. Voice lifting to carry, she says: "Did someone say abyssal? I could uhh..." She doesn't finish the thought, too busy letting an arrow fly. She could uhh, guys. It'd be super effective.

"Don't get cornered," Harlex barks toward the group as his sword comes loose from its scabbard. It gleams viciously, like an evil smile, as its single edged blade goes to cut down at one of the charging wild men. He splits one right across the chest, blood geysering, knocking him back with a thud and then stomping down on his neck for good measure. "Watch our flanks," he's shouting to the archers, creating a perimeter of defense while he and the other melee fighters handle the middle. He moves naturally toward Yrsa, covering her back so she can cover his, taking that sword up in a good choke as he readies for the next of the attackers.

The crossbow packs a heavy punch - and Audgrim shortens the range by moving forward in a few jogged steps, stopping and then aiming briefly. A bolt flies true, lodging itself high in the chest on one of these foul, diseased looking men, doing some serious damage without killing. He keeps close to the other archers and nods to Harlex, already reloading with practiced ease.

Orland was attempting to find some where to hunker down and avoid any BITING enemy today. Although that's not going to happen apparently, as nine heavily diseased men come charging. You see, the trouble with not communicating in the first bit means Orland is sort of over there doing his own thing. He's trying to get back toward Audgrim but is cut off by one of the running hissing men. He tries to stab at it, but mostly, he wants to be away from them. They're diseased! "Look I've already been munched on once, leave me alone!" He backs himself up, bouncing feet, trying to keep him away out of the reach of the rusty swords.

Falling easily into the back-to-back stance with Harlex, Yrsa works to try and keep the charging men away from the archers as well as his back, swinging her axe with purpose. She buries the head deep into one of the wild men's chests - not a death blow, but he'll not be living too long without a lot of help and maybe some luck too.

Thalamina's shot misses, flying wide. But she doesn't dwell on it; another arrow is swiftly notched into place and she pulls the string back, hand pressed against her cheek as she takes aim once more.

Harlex checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Harlex is successful.

Orland checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Orland is marginally successful.

Yrsa checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Yrsa fails.

Thalamina checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Thalamina is marginally successful.

Tikva checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Tikva is marginally successful.

Audgrim checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Audgrim marginally fails.


Closer to the group now, hissing, the shard-tainted humans scream louder. Their eyes holding firmly upon the group before one's calling loudly as Harlex cuts him down to EIGHT remaining.

Two taking a blow from an arrow, Yrsa's axe crashing into another.

Closer, however, they jab. Aiming to spear their opponent on the end of their rusty longsword while their disease-like face hissing still. One catching Yrsa right into her side while another is pushing closer into Audgrim to rake across his front.

Harlex checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Harlex is marginally successful.

Yrsa checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Yrsa is marginally successful.

Audgrim checks dexterity and archery at normal. Audgrim is marginally successful.

Tikva checks dexterity and archery at normal. Tikva is successful.

Thalamina checks dexterity and archery at normal. Thalamina is marginally successful.

Orland checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Orland is marginally successful.

Harlex clashes in a parry against one of the diseased-riddled madmen. His sword cleaving through the rusted blade, making it into something more akin to a jagged dagger, before he cleaves the ensorcelled metal into the foe's shoulder and slices clean down through the bone. It's a maiming wound, for certain. Though the wild fury keeps him coming on and Harlex can only glance aside as Yrsa is harmed. "Don't break," he calls sharply to the mercenary. "We're almost through."

There's a small cut on Audgrim's arm as he doesn't manage to fully evade the oncoming rush - but he shifts away, taking a new aim with the crossbow, which at least works well on short distances. The armor seems to have taken most of the damage as he doesn't seem particularly shook up by the attack, the next bolt also flying true on the same target as earlier, that now drops to the ground with a wet thud. Still, as they're now pushed into melee, he draws his sword instead.

Tikva fires a second shot into the throat of the man she got in the side last time. Her teeth grit in triumph as she pulls a third arrow, dancing to the side and skittering to avoid more of them after a close call with a rusty blade that hacks too close to her position. She's swearing as she dodges, the adrenal thrill marking a chill in her gut in contrast to the damp heat that glares down at them in jungle daylight. "What the hell even--"

Audgrim wields utilitarian longsword.

Orland has some things going for him. He's wearing leathers, some steelsilk, and is generally light on his feet with age on his side. Though he's managed to run and jog backwards to get near the actual fighters in this fight. Somewhere between the Crimson Blades and Harlex, and it just so happens that when Harlex makes that shoulder slice down through the bone, Orland is popping in and tries to stab in the enemies back. Then he pops out the other side, trying to generally stay out of the way and only jab or poke with his knives when there's an opportunity to make it count.

This time Thalamina's aim is true enough, as her shot finds one of the figures that's already wounded. There's still little reaction, though she drops back a few steps to keep archery distance between herself and the dwindling horde as she draws another arrow in a fluid motion.

There's a hostile hiss from Yrsa, a litany of Northlands shav that is almost certainly a curse of some kind as one of the wild folk jabs his spear under her arm, a narrow but deep wound. She swings hard, finishing off the one she'd started killing, and then starting to shift into a more defensive stance. "Break? Hah," she calls back to Harlex, perhaps some kind of reassurance that she's not going anywhere just yet.

Tikva checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Tikva is marginally successful.

Orland checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Orland is marginally successful.

Yrsa checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Yrsa is successful.

Audgrim checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Critical Success! Audgrim is spectacularly successful.

Harlex checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Harlex is marginally successful.

Thalamina checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Thalamina is marginally successful.


Still screaming, the wildness in their movements, the scaley-diseased men attempt to surround the group. Their movements being caught out by the group's step ahead to cut down some of the already weaker members of the group.

Several hit the ground, the second blow too much, their screaming fading leaving just FOUR remaining and TWO bleeding heavily.

One spits on the floor, tightening their grip and attempts to swing towards Audgrim while the others are reeling back still. Leaving themselves open.

Orland checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Orland is marginally successful.

Tikva checks dexterity and archery at normal. Tikva is marginally successful.

Thalamina checks dexterity and archery at normal. Thalamina marginally fails.

Yrsa checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Yrsa fails.

Harlex checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Harlex is marginally successful.

Audgrim checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Audgrim is successful.

Audgrim's sword comes up, crossbow hooked onto his belt in the same motion - and he ducks, spins on the ground with his hands, cloak spanning out like a fan for a moment and then he's behind his enemy, the sword making a wet, sickly sound as it is poked right through the diseased man's belly, coming out the other side for a second before he pulls it back hard. There's a spray of blood and gore that he avoids as he's already moving to find the next target.

Teaming up with Harlex, since with a knife he can move in a lot quicker, flanking the enemy, Orland works with the highly skilled Harlex to end the life of that nasty scalely-diseased men, making sure to keep his mouth CLOSED during the experience in case of any back splashing. For a man his age, he seems to handle the combat well enough thus far, slipping in and out, flanking, shadowing, twisting and turning about quickly enough that he may not be the main target for any of the howling things. Like a little pest, that's been buzzing around the jungle, naturally.

Thalamina misses again, and this time her brow furrows with a scowl even as she's drawing another arrow to set against string.

Harlex casts near a grin at Yrsa at her reassurance. There's little time for chatter though, catching another of the rapid men and pushing him back right into the passing Orland who's knives slip in and out of the target. That opens him up enough, so the swordsman steps forward and gives a powerful swing that knocks the head right off the neck sending it careening away and into a dramatic roll across the grass.

Tikva's arrow buries itself so deep in the last remaining man that her blooded fletching sticks out of where it has grooved deep, biting through flesh and into bone. He still stands as she wipes sweat from her brow, breath coming jagged. "Seriously though, who _are_ these guys?" she says to nobody in particular.

Lifting her axe for another swing, Yrsa begins to bring it down - then the angle drops sharply as the spear wound under her arm flares up, briefly weakening the muscles in that arm. She curses again, switching her axe to the other hand, looking for a new target - only to find her companions have dispatched the remaining ones quite efficiently.

Orland provides a possible answer, "Do you think they're the... scouting party we came looking for? Did anyone grab descriptions of how many we were looking for, men, women?" He throws out there, in the middle of the hacking and slashing.

Orland checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Orland fails.

Yrsa checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Yrsa fails.

Audgrim checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Audgrim is marginally successful.

Thalamina checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Thalamina is marginally successful.

Harlex checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Harlex is successful.

Tikva checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Tikva is marginally successful.

"Tainted," Audgrim replies grimly, "by the Abyss. Somehow. Something around these parts, or someone did something to them," he says and moves forward to go after the remaining one; he's bleeding slightly, and considering the weapons that hurt them, all rusty and dirty, that needs cleaning.


Down. Goes one. Down. Goes another. The screaming on the top of the cliff becoming quieter as the nine soon becomes just a single one breathing raggedly. Squinting their left eye, the right marked with blood, towards Yrsa. The shard's sword is lifting up before spearing it towards her. Aiming once more for her hip before the movement from Harlex halts him. Missing.

Down upon the floor the half-dead shard lands before their screams are no more. Their breath and grip on the sword loosening.

The group are left on the top, the view around them of the rolling jungle. Out on the horizon the group notice smoke blowing up from within the jungle itself. The tents and blood-streaked floor around them and their feet. Leaving the group just some time to inspect their surroundings before making the journey back.

In the final moments following the last harrowing scream, Tikva stands still; then she moves forward, going to gather as many of her arrows as she might retrieve, before returning to the camp to poke around amidst the bodies. She spends a long time hunkered over one body in particular, staring down at lines of crabbed script on a somewhat weathered journal page, fingers light on water-damaged paper, lower lip jutting out thoughtfully as she frowns.

Audgrim wraps a piece of linen around his arm, and then goes to check on Yrsa first thing before starting any examinations. He looks grim-faced and a little unnerved about this, glancing at the corpses with a thoughtful expression. "You alright?" he asks of his fellow Crimson Blade. "Any of you all got any healing skills?"

"I'm fine. It's a scratch," Yrsa asserts impatiently to Audgrim. It isn't a scratch, far from, but she's breathing easily enough that the spear clearly didn't get as far as piercing a lung. Just maybe a broken rib or some muscle damage. She stows her axe and grits her teeth, moving over to help rustle through the remains of those newly dead scaled creatures.

Orland shakes his head at Audgrim, "Wrap what you can..." He settles down at one of the bodies, probably of the last one he had a part in killing. He uses the hilt of his knife to start poking around in things. "Someone said they're corrupted right?" He asks, before he snoops further in the pockets and whatever sort of clothes was left on this corpse. He plucks out a folded and perhaps crumpled parchment. He opens it up, with a brow lifting, "These are the scouts we are looking for. This one had a map on him... looks like," he peers over the cliff and the way they came into the jungle, then back to the map, "Like this is the map that they made for their route here. This is going to the commanders. They marked, Skal'dajan..." he taps the map with the hilt of his blade, "Probably with a circle that big, not something a scouting party ought to handle." He carefully folds the map up again and tucks it into his vest, "I'll make sure it gets to Prince Patrizio."

Harlex runs the sword into his scabbard with a practiced ease and looks between the one he split in half and the one he decapitated. "Ulrichiss," he murmurs, "Gluk--glukthriss?" They sound guttural on his tongue but he's almost speaking to himself when he says it and lifts his gaze to the others. Yrsa in particular. He checks the wound himself, but he isn't a healer. He has to trust her word. "This is them -- and it isn't, at the same time. I reckon."

"This says that they found the Skal'daja already in the jungle," Tikva reports, still poring over the pages of the journal she discovered. "Already here, landed and preparing. I don't know how that relates to finding these twisted shards of men, though." She nudges at one of the corpses with a boot. "I mean, I doubt it's a _coincidence_."

"They said something when they arrived. That we were fouling this place, just like _they_ were. So if these are _them_, I dunno who _they_ are." Tikva scratches her cheek, and finally straightens, cradling the journal against her chest. "Fuck," is her overall diagnoss.

* diagnosis

"Something from the Abyss tainted them and twisted them," Audgrim speaks, his voice serious and ominous. He keeps looking around too, as if expecting more of them - NOW he seems twitchier, and he taps the side of his head now and then as if he's got something in his ear. Bugs, maybe? "Something on this island they found perhaps, something Abyssal - it can do that to people."

"Right," Orland says, "I'm voting we leave." And he doesn't wait for them to vote with him, he's heading toward the rope.


As the group begin to fan out and search through the camp, the group are able to find several journals kept by the now-dead explorers. Stories of their adventures, searching through the jungle and trying to help Pieros ready for the war. But that they felt watched when they got deeper into the jungle. That there was a chattering they could hear.

As Tikva shares from her journal, it states - Skal'daja is within the jungle. The map found by Orland when held up, it roughly translates across to the fire within the jungle itself.

The Skal'dajans have landed and have set up advanced camps within the jungle for the war effort. Information that needs to make its way back.

With some time taken to inspect the rest of the camp and recover, nightfall soon to threaten it's head, time to head back.

Leaving sounds like a good idea. Yrsa might need to get that wound checked out, but she's inclined to be back out of the jungle first before admitting that. She falls into step beside Orland, offering a quiet, "Yrsa. And, a day or two."