[h3]The Journey Begins[/h3]

The party sets forth from Fenhall, introductions and grand purpose fueling their steps across friendly Dale-country. The rains of the past week were sorely missed; despite the coolness of the season, the earth was desperate for replenishment and the torrent of day of the Tralaya attack had barely sated the need for moisture. The surrounding farmlands struggle to produce healthy crop; Amaryllis' attunement to the lands gives her the beginnings of a dark unease as she traverses this place, no longer bearing the immense haste she utilized to reach Fenhall.

And yet, things were worse elsewhere. The road was clear, and as the first few days of their journey pass they encounter amicable-enough travelers on the road. The safety wrought by the First Fort over the western Dale roads was not to be discounted. On the third day, they pass under the shadow of the First Fort, and over the ridge of the Dale. They leave the valley behind, and following rumor of Castle Lancre and the chaos of the South, the River makes for the best guide. Following its waters brings with it a health and vitality juxtaposed against the encroaching dryness of the Dale itself- and a brightness that contrasts the gloom of the Heartlands, which loom over the southern ridge of the Dale Valley here. Their route bypasses the forest directly, skirting its edge as they follow the river southwards.

[@Guardian Angel Haruki] (Do not feel pressured, your absence is explained; I rolled perceptions on your behalf to keep Amaryllis along with the company; she netted 22 and 23). Amaryllis' extreme capabilities in this familiar environ proves to be a boon. As they skirt the edge of her homeland, she discerns a tree of note on the edge of the river. Digging at its roots, she verifies that it is indeed a Heartroot! Though struggling against the rot of the deeper wood, the tree still lives and bears its blessing. [b]The party can harvest a bounty of 6 Units of Heartroot from the tree; a generous boon of the Gods to be sure.[/b]

[@Lucius Cypher]: Fran's experience in the field pays off as the party rests one night. As they made camp, she discovered markings carved into the trunk of a tree w hose boughs stretched lazily over the river and cast shade upon its dappled waters in the day. The markings, by her reckoning, mark this tree as a landmark for River Pirates. A warning to turn vessels back; the edge of the bandit territory. From this day forth they were entering the perilous Southron Dale-Lands.

[@karamonnom][@Neianna86][@XxFellsingxX]: With this warning from Fran, your vigilance is keen and well rewarded. As the party emerges from the Heartland Border, the River Dale winds and bends against the rise of a hill and arcs far to the west. [b]Iris[/b], aided by her flight, [b]detects a small village to the south, otherwise concealed from sight by the rising of young hills here, in a place where the River Dale arced back to the East through a gap in the hills. It was two days' journey to the south as the crow flies, or another five by following the river's bend[/b]... This revelation, whilst potentially critical, cannot be immediately acted upon yet however; [b]Dag'Tyr witnesses a portent in this moment, and Vigil's keen senses and life-instilled cautious nature pay off.[/b]

As Iris relays this information back to the group, the afternoon uncharacteristically warm for the early autumnal season on this day, a Thrush alights upon the top of the hill and, seemingly at random, lifts a rock and cracks it upon a larger stone outcrop. [b]The sound reverberates within Dag'Tyr, drawing his attention to the bird as it tosses its stone aside and flies away. As Dag'Tyr mounts the crest of this hill, he sees that the stone outcrop he had been drawn to was in truth a barrow-mound capstone.[/b] The mound was man-made atop the natural hill, and this cap-stone bore no inscription save for the simple engraving of his God; the neverending circle of Life and Death. [b]His familiarity with Veratul's rites would reveal to him that a capstone such as this could be easily moved with the aid of his companions, and that these tombs had the potential for both great treasures or terrible curses alike. Such was the nature of Veratul.[/b]

[b]Vigil, perhaps driven by his past to maintain...er...vigil... Notices before all others, a pair of masts rising over the low hill[/b]; two small river-boats, moving upriver, small box-sails furled. The pennants they bore were unfamiliar to him, but Alyson of Waltone fills that gap in his knowledge swiftly upon his raising the party's attention to them;

"...Those are the flags of the lost castle Lancre, if memory serves; Crossed scythes upon a field of grain..." She offers in a grim tone. "Peasants usurping an icon. A sign of the times."

They must be pirates, coming up the river and towards the Heartland Forest at the party's back...

How do you react? You are not yet seen, and collective assessment of potential vessel sizes based on the sails and masts would give reason to estimate the ballpark of a dozen potential hostiles.