The Trail That Was

We arrived back at the pirate cove on the 29th. The snow the snow the snow is patchy. Luckily, Kua is much more skilled at gleaning information from the terrain than I am. I can compose a poem about the melting snow. Kua got off her horse and within moments had us on the trail. The trail heads west from the valley cove.

We have a brief New Years party when we camp for the evening. Grace refuses to wear her grass skirt. Kua and I had a good time anyway.

Towards the evening of our third day following the trail, Kua announces that she hears a wolf. We begin gathering in the horses. Grace thinks that the howl doesn't sound quite natural. We quickly discover *why* the cry hadn't sounded natural as a ring of skeletal dogs closes in on the party. I tried to emphasize that the bard doesn't do melee. Grace yelled back, "The bard does melee now!"

My new battle cry is, "Kill the things and kill mine too!" I personally think it should inspire just as much courage as ballads of long dead heros.

Then, from those cavernous eyes
Pale flashes seemed to rise,
As when the Northern skies
Gleam in December;
And, like the water's flow
Under December's snow,
Came a dull voice of woe
From the heart's chamber.

Salidar rebukes the beasts and causes them to flee. Kua, Grace, and Bartlebee bring many of them down with arrows as they run. We camp for the night, and in the morning of the second day of the new year, follow the trail to a cave in the hillside. Bartlebee goes ahead to scout. Then commenced a discussion on whether Bartlebee snores. This is the stuff heroes are made of.

At the cave entrance, Kua found traces of very old, very indistinct tracks. Bartlebee went in to investigate the crates. As soon as he stepped into the cave entrance, a black aura enveloped him and he slumped to the ground. Grace reached in and pulled him out. After using lassos, mage hands, and horses…we pulled out one crate. We opened it with a great deal of anticipation, and found it full of preserved food. Salidar suggested that we go for one of the kegs in the hopes that it might contain ale. After the wild goose chase, a good stiff drink was sounding welcome.

The cave, we decided must just be a halfway point to store provisions and the spell was meant to keep animals out of the food. The trail did go on past the cave, so we continued to follow it. Four days later, we reached the lake shore. Having reached a dead end, without a ship or a crew, we decided to head back to Balan.

Four days later, we came to an village abandoned last autumn. It was a village of about five hundred people. There were no signs of boarded windows. Small fishing boats were still on the beach. There were no signs of violence. I hated to leave the town without knowing. It could have easily been my own town. Two days further south in the next town, everything was normal. No one had heard or seen or could guess about what might have happened further north.

So help me, Grace and her puns were funny a few weeks ago. The halibut one just about pushed me over the edge.