Session 68

Resting at the border now. Seven and a half hours through hostile forest, and we're camped next to skull totems that mark avian territory. One of those skulls has a distinct handprint burned into the bone - not avian work. My Burnout was here.

The day started with introductions. Artemis brought a half-elf named Eamon - another practitioner from their moon goddess organization. Apothecary type, sells herbs in Kleesaddle, knows the territory. Tall bastard with yellow eyes and that particular brand of nervousness you get from people who spend their lives avoiding danger suddenly being asked to walk straight into it.

Three routes to Hot Bog. The long way north past guard towers - safe but slow. The longer way south through empty territory - safer but slower still. Or straight through eighty miles of forest infested with orcs, avians, and whatever corruption is seeping through these woods.

We chose the forest. Of course we did.

Eamon tried to warn us off. Multiple avian tribes with different hunting cycles. Orcs where the avians aren't. And somewhere in these woods, a druid named Melkoth who's apparently gone off the deep end. The kind of powerful practitioner who could corrupt an entire region if he lost his grip on whatever darkness he's channeling.

Zarael seems to feel that corruption, too, and her reaction telling. She's seen it before. I'm certain of it. Same expression she had when those shadow wolves attacked - recognition mixed with revulsion. Whatever's happening here connects to whatever power she's channeling. The corruption in these woods feels familiar to her, but wrong somehow.

We made good time initially. I scouted ahead, under cover of the Shroud. Zarael sent her pseudodragon familiar flying reconnaissance while she shared its sight. Flynt tracked for avian signs - though his survival skills seemed rusty today. Roth tried using some kind of divine sense to detect threats, but spent most of the morning throwing up and staying as far away from Zarael as he could manage.

Apparently his paladin abilities let him sense otherworldly energy, and whatever power Zarael channels registers as exactly that. Took him half the morning to figure out how to work around it. When he finally managed to extend his senses properly, he detected something else - aberrant energy diffusing through the entire area. Not concentrated like Zarael's power, but ambient. Rancid. The kind of wrongness that makes your skin crawl.

About three-quarters through our planned march, things got interesting. The forest atmosphere soured - darker, heavier, with that weight you feel when something predatory is watching. Roth's divine sense started picking up more of that aberrant corruption, everywhere at once.

Then Flynt found the border markers.

Stakes driven into the ground, topped with skulls - human and orc both. Clear warning that we'd reached avian territory. But one skull caught my attention immediately. Burned handprint on the bone, fingers splayed like someone had grabbed it. The mark was too big for avian hands, too deliberate for accident.

My burnout touched that skull. Left his mark like a calling card.

He's definitely ahead of us, definitely came this way. Question is whether he's still in the forest or already through to Hot Bog. Given that Firestormers aren't known for their subtlety or tactical thinking, I'd wager he blundered straight through avian territory the same way he blundered through that inn. Probably left a trail of burned trees and angry birds in his wake.

We could have pushed on - tried to make the full forty miles in one brutal march. But standing at the edge of avian territory with exhaustion already creeping in, the smart play was obvious. Set up camp, get a proper rest, then tackle the dangerous stretch with fresh eyes and full stamina.

Tomorrow we cross into avian territory proper. Twenty-four miles of careful movement through hunting grounds that may or may not be currently occupied. Stealth is the play - eyes up, ears open, quiet movement, avoiding confrontation if possible. We've got the egg as potential leverage if we encounter the right tribe, but that's a gamble. Wrong tribe won't care about returning their egg to a rival clan.

The corruption Melkoth is spreading makes everything more complicated. If the avians are affected by whatever's poisoning these woods, they might not behave predictably. Corrupted creatures rarely do.

Still thinking about that handprint on the skull. Firestormers burn things, but they don't usually... fondle them afterward. Either this one has stranger habits than most, or there's something else driving his behavior. Maybe the corruption is affecting him too.

Either way, he's still ahead of us. Still moving toward whatever destination drew him across the Spine in the first place. Tomorrow we follow his trail deeper into hostile territory, racing to catch up before he disappears entirely.

The chain continues. Even when it leads through forests full of skulls and shadow.